A Unedited Page From My Journal

The Vulnerability Chronicles Part 1

Welcome or welcome back! Series three, episode four of A Writer’s Life! If you’d like to hear me read this, then click below: (Music by FASSounds and Music_For_Videos from Pixabay.)

4 minute read

“If something inside of you is real, we will probably find it interesting, and it will probably be universal. So you must risk placing real emotion at the center of your work. Write straight into the emotional center of things. Write toward vulnerability. Risk being unliked. Tell the truth as you understand it. If you’re a writer you have a moral obligation to do this. And it is a revolutionary act—truth is always subversive.”


—Anne Lamott

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Eeeek! I feel like a target board and every sentence is an arrow straight to the centre. I needed to read this today. I really did. I have recently been encouraged to journal and reflect upon what I’ve been through in my life so far and managed to overcome. I think it is an exercise in cementing my worth, reclaiming who I am. Remembering and embodying the totality of me. Totality. That word - complete, whole, enough. I’d read that word in a Substack from Lindsey Trout Hughes (Fox in the Dark) and it has stayed with me.

I keep getting these little nudges, subtle hints to do this work. What is this work? Uncovering my truth and sharing it. Whilst founding experiences and events may be different, I know that there are others that share similar emotions to me. My top three challenging emotions or states of being are: grief, sadness and low self-worth.

I’m going to tackle low self-worth first. What does this look like in my everyday life? People pleasing, worrying about what other people think, fearing I am not enough, passing on opportunities to shine because who would really be interested in what I had to say? A recurring experience for me would be ‘romantic’ relationships that I have stayed in for far too long because I’ve been afraid no one else would have me. And that’s scary because society might think that I’m weird. She’s single? What’s wrong with her?

I think every relationship I’ve had has been with someone who was selfish and I followed their lead, putting them first and abandoning myself. Scattering my needs to the wind. Trying to be what I thought they wanted me to be. Trying to be a perfect girlfriend, wife, whatever.

You may be wondering what the source of this behaviour is. I didn’t even recognise it - it took years, decades even (and some therapy). The source of many ‘issues’ or challenges often come from childhood. A relationship with a parent. For me it was my dad.

When my dad died, it almost crippled me. I had days when I was catatonic. I could do nothing. Just lie there with the odd tear escaping from my eye. It was a darkness I never thought I would leave, or would leave me.

I struggled with this because, I had experienced bereavement, loss and grief before (that’s for another post but a sneak preview in a past post here). In the past, though I had been strong. I had learnt the rules, learnt through observation of others. Be strong. Carry everyone else. At the time I thought I was ‘being good’ by doing this. I was searching, yearning for unconditional acceptance of who I was. Unconditional love. I wanted to be wanted. To be enough.

My dad died and so did my opportunity to prove to him that I was enough. That I was worth loving. They say that we mourn the loss of opportunity when we lose someone. We grieve the future we thought we would have. I had been robbed. Again.

I adored my dad. My relationship with him over the years was - varied. Sometimes I felt like his beloved little girl, sat on his knee. And sometimes I didn’t. Parents do the best they can do with what they know. They draw on their knowledge and experience. I’m not making excuses. Sometimes it isn’t enough. I understand though and I am filled with love and forgiveness for my dad. He may be gone but I know he is still here with me now, cheering me on and supporting me. This gives me comfort. I draw on this in my dark times.

Occasionally, my mind fleets to the question: what would my relationships have been like or my life experiences if he hadn’t said to me as a child:

“I wish your mum had aborted you.”

Dad and me aged 6 months

I love you dad, always. I understand. I am grateful for everything you have given me, shared with me and taught me (even indirectly). Thank you.

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Whew, that was a lot. I hope that it reaches the people it needs to reach and that my vulnerability here hasn’t gone to waste. It’s not about shaming or outing my family. It’s about understanding who I am, how I came to be and the trajectory I am on. It helps me continue to grow and to embrace totality.

Dad and me aged 23

Here’s a poem from my book Warrior Wisdom Sun. It seems to fit this post. Thank you for reading. And I mean that sincerely.

Music by Oleksii Kaplunskyi from Pixabay


A line from the film 
A father daughter hug 
on screen 
makes me ask 
why 
why couldn’t you 
stay long enough 
so we could have 
more hugs 
why 
why did you go without 
creating more memories 
hearing you say 
I love you 
holding me like a 
lost little girl 

I felt so lost 
when you left 

so broken 
so empty 
without purpose 
I wanted to see that sparkle in your eye 
hear the questions you used to ask 
the stories of home 
you would tell 
your deep singing voice 
your laugh 
your cakes 
your banana fritters 
your patties 
your generosity 

your love 
dad. 

More from me here: https://linktr.ee/Writingforlight