As you can gather from reading my blog, I love to write autobiographical stories and snippets from my daily life. One of the main reasons I love writing is that I’m able to share deep and vulnerable parts of myself with others. I always hope to be able to connect with someone else through my writing. Stories are powerful, they allow us to get a glimpse into another person’s life and feelings, and they are an amazing way to develop empathy for people different than we are.
While I know it’s true that you get better at writing the more that you practice writing, I’ve been wanting some more concrete ideas on how to improve as a writer. This led me to check out a book from the library by Tristine Rainer titled, Your Life as Story.
I’m about 8 chapters in, and have found the book to be extremely helpful in its tips and ideas on memoir writing. I’ve been furiously taking notes, trying to capture all the things I don’t want to forget. I knew that the book would be helpful for me to read, but I didn’t expect that even just a few chapters in, it would already change they way I think about writing.
Another surprise from the book was getting to know on a personal level a man named Robert J. Hall – the previous owner of this book before it was donated to the library. His name and address are scribbled on the inside of the front cover, and he has underlined, highlighted, and made notes all throughout the book. As I continue to read, I get more and more insights into this man’s life, and why he owned a copy of this book.
It reminded me of the 6th Harry Potter book, where Harry gets an old copy of an Advanced Potion-Making textbook, and finds it rife with notes and edits from a person who calls themself the “Half-Blood Prince.” Many of the potion recipes have been improved by this Half-Blood Prince, and Harry finds himself doing exceedingly well in his Potions class due to the hints and clues left by the textbook’s previous owner.
I was excited to discover that I basically have my own version of a half-blood prince in my library book. (I’m a big Harry Potter fan! Shout out to my fellow Ravenclaws!) While not nearly as cryptic as the original half-blood prince, I do find myself getting more and more interested in the story behind Robert J. Hall.
I missed posting this on the actual anniversary of “Outbreak Day” – Outbreak Day (September 26, 2013) is the day in the video game, The Last of Us, that a terrible virus reached “critical mass” – so yes, just to be clear, I’m referring to a fictional event. In the real world, September 26th is still a time each year to celebrate the awesome-ness of The Last of Us, (and this year was renamed “The Last of Us Day” instead of “Outbreak Day.” Thanks COVID.)
If you’ve never heard of The Last of Us (TLOU) feel free to Wikipedia it, but I’ll simply say it’s a video game (released in 2013) that tells the story of a man, Joel, trying to get a teenage girl, Ellie, across the country in a post-apocalyptic setting – and there are zombies (kind of). ( I guess they are not technically “zombies,” but there are people who are trying to attack/eat you, and you have to kill them, so in my mind, they are pretty much zombies.) It’s a pretty dark story, and as you could guess, also pretty graphic and violent.
And it’s been one of my favorite games to watch my husband play.
These days I’m not much for video games – back in the day I was pretty amazing at The Lion King on the Sega Genesis, but in recent times I have little interest in playing or watching many video games. So 7 years ago when Dean asked me if I wanted to watch him play TLOU, I was pretty skeptical. Especially knowing it was supposed to be a scary and violent game with zombie-like people. Not exactly my typical cup of tea for entertainment. (Just for reference, I tried to watch The Walking Dead many years ago, but it scared me too much.)
TLOU has become a big point of connection for my husband and I – I literally sat and watched him play this game for hours, like probably a good 20 or 30 hours (not in one sitting thankfully). The story is captivating, the characters are compelling… there’s so much to like about TLOU. From the first opening scene of the game, you are hooked. For Valentine’s Day (back in 2014) my card from my husband was TLOU themed (see the image back at the top.) So this year, when The Last of Us Part II came out, both my husband and I were stoked. (And yes, we finished it, and it did not disappoint!)
One thing I have really appreciated about TLOU is how it features really strong female characters. In the first game, you start out playing as Joel, but eventually end up playing as Ellie. And Ellie, even though she is young, is a force to be reckoned with. Her whole life she has grown up in a world where survival was always a prime objective, and certainly not a guarantee. I distinctly remember a scene in the game where Ellie and Joel are exploring an abandoned building, and Ellie finds a book, something along the lines of The Babysitter’s Club, or some similar novel. She glances through it and is dumbfounded to think about a teenage girl’s biggest problems being whether or not her top matched her shoes, or if a boy liked her.
Ellie in The Last of Us Part II
In TLOU Part II, we meet another female character who becomes critical to the story: Abby.
Initially I hated Abby (the game kind of makes you hate her at the beginning), but as the game progresses, you learn more about Abby and her story, which of course allows you to empathize with her more and more. Abby is… built like a horse. I don’t know how else to say it. She has a muscular build that would rival any man’s. I remember thinking it was strange when we first met her in the game. But later, I found I really appreciated how this game featured women that were not stereotypical damsels in distress, in terms of appearance or actions. I appreciate being able to value women’s bodies that are different or unique – I myself have struggled a lot in the past (or sometimes the present) for not being able to live up to what I thought I was “supposed” to look like.
Abby (The Last of Us Part II)
I guess to summarize I just really want to say that I love The Last of Us (parts I and II) because it tells a great story that goes a lot deeper than just killing zombies (or infected people… I know they’re not technically “zombies.”) I really love how this game is kind of an exercise in empathy; the more you learn about each character’s story, the more you understand and have compassion for why they are the way they are. (And don’t we need more of that in the world today???)
This game was initially such a surprise to me back when I watched the first one, and the second one was so well done (I won’t give any spoilers, but it was seriously amazing!)
If you have an opportunity to play or watch this game, I would highly recommend it! You can even find the cut-scenes on YouTube if you’re not much of a gamer but are curious about the story.
This week has been hard – I was originally thinking “awful” which is also somewhat accurate, but obviously more negative. This week was our son’s first week back at daycare in two weeks because of the Christmas break – and our son has not handled it well. Most drop offs have ended with me walking away down the hallway, still hearing his screams as I exit the building. And it hasn’t just been screaming – he’s started running away from me and hitting when he doesn’t like something – he’s even begun to hit other people now if he’s extremely upset.
My identity as a mom has been a bit shaken this week – I hate feeling like I can’t control my child (I hate not being in control of things in general…) I hate feeling like I’m the only one whose three-year-old has extreme tantrums anytime I try to leave him at daycare – those feelings of “what am I doing wrong?” begin to spring up, and I start convincing myself that everyone is judging me for being a “bad” parent.
I know my kid is a good kid, but I also know he is easily overwhelmed by people, loud noises, and changes to his routine. He used to tell me that he didn’t like daycare because “everyone said hello to him” – so I get it, he’s introverted, and that’s okay. Hitting, screaming, and throwing tantrums are not okay, however, as I have told my son numerous times this week in our heart-to-heart talks at the end of the day.
I confided in a trusted friend this week about how I was struggling with mom guilt, how I was so tired of every day being a struggle for myself and my child – and she did exactly what I needed her to do, which was to speak words of truth to me, validate my feelings, and to remind me of the lies I was telling myself. Here’s part of a text she sent me yesterday:
“That is so hard, friend. It [my son’s behavior] feels like a reflection on you because you’re the mom – but really the reflection on you is that he’s a secure boy who knows he has a voice and feels comfortable and safe to express his frustration or anxiety…”
We talked about how his “bad” behavior was not being done maliciously, but the screaming and hitting were his way of trying to communicate that he felt unsafe, or scared, and that he really, REALLY was not happy. We talked about doing things to help validate my son’s feelings – saying things like, “I know this is hard for you and that you are not happy. You are safe. I will come back this afternoon to pick you up.” She reminded me that I was not alone, as I had convinced myself, and that many other parents were also struggling this week coming back from the holiday break. She reminded me that the people who might be labeling me a “bad” mom were not the people who mattered anyway.
Something else I also had to come to terms with this week was my pride. I realized that I was allowing my pride to either be puffed up, or totally flattened, by my son’s behavior. I came across this posted on a friend’s Facebook wall, and I felt like it was meant for me to see: I want to be proud of my son when he does good things and when he overcomes his fears. But I don’t want to let his choices totally define me and make me feel secure or insecure about my abilities as a mother. But how often do we find ourselves thinking this way? We see a “badly” behaved kid (or sometimes more accurately, probably an emotionally overwhelmed kid) and we sometimes unfairly assume that the parents are just failing to do their job or put in the effort. Many times, as I can attest to, the parents are doing the best they can – and they’re tired and frustrated and feel helpless.
So, where do I go from here? My husband and I have tried to be creative in how we attempt to get through this phase – one thing we have tried to start doing is dropping our son off earlier than normal to daycare, when there are fewer kids in the classroom (aka. creating a less overwhelming environment). The few days we have done it, things have been better – not perfect, but better. We want to strike a balance between validating our son’s feelings, allowing him a voice to say “no,” but still requiring him to be able to function in day to day life. It’s hard, I don’t always find the right balance – but I’ll keep trying.
As always, my hope is that sharing this post will help at least one other person to not feel so alone. The author Brené Brown says that shame grows in us when we convince ourselves we’re alone and keep our struggles a secret. Shame is destroyed when we experience empathy from others – that moment when someone says “me too.” If you need another parent to say “me too,” I’m here for you.
Threads of Anxiety 