After 10 years of writing, a few months ago I realized something.
We have to tell our stories more than once.
Like many times.
I was always so frustrated that I would write something impactful and wouldn’t get a response. Like, something I had personally gone through and learned a lesson from.
If a tree falls in a forest and nobody hears it, did it happen?
You know what I mean?
Like something felt major to me. But nobody seemed to think it was a big deal.
So I guess it’s not?
First of all, I shouldn’t need others to tell me what is a big deal and what isn’t a big deal. Whatever my feelings say, is real. Emotions are valid, period!
Second of all, people can’t just jump onto my exact wavelength instantly. They are not going to understand my story as easily and intimately as I understand it.
So I realized a few months ago, it’s not a lacking in me that I have to repeat it.
I reframed it:
It wouljd be ludicrous to expect people to get me from my sharing something once.
No, my job is to process life. And then to process it again. Like a cow chewing it’s cud.
Or maybe it’s like they say about Torah – The Old Testament, aka the Jewish Bible aka the Bible (cuz I’m Jewish), every year we learn the same parts over again, but each time we learn, our life is a little different so reflect differntly on it. Which is simialr to the DNW double helix metphor my childhood rabbi mentioned in. sermon about Jewish holidays which come around every year.
Or maybe it’s like being pre-med. You have to really work at it, or else they weed you out. Like how commited am I to finding and holding on to my true self?
Over and over again I must put in the effort, I must prevail.
I have to continuouesly sing the song of my soul.
Whether or not people are listening.
And so I’ve come to terms with the fact, that I started writing about things I’ve already written about in my life. Albeit, with a slightly different angle and/or sparked by a unique occurence.
It’s all I know how to be.
And yes, I do pray for the day when my story is heard. Like finally heard.
But I guess I’m more complex than I give myself credit for.
I’m not some two-dimensional being that can easily be figured out.
None of us are.