Vulnerability is the best policy
What do you do when you encounter trauma? Do you throw potatoes at it? Do you complain? Do you avoid it? Can you even prevent it? What if you don't want to talk about it with your shrink, or anyone for that matter, for the sake of not being pitied? And most importantly, how do you move forward?
To give you a bit of a background, I come from a place and time when people were convinced that their problems would go away with the power of wishful thinking.
It tells you a lot about the power of the digital era. How much has changed in so little time. Even the way we deal with trauma. For better or worse, I've chosen, after many elaborate attempts to bury my trauma, to try the new era approach — to talk about it publicly.
So, what happened that was so traumatic I felt the need to push past the seemingly impenetrable walls of insecurity and transform it into a publishable novel?
I got tired of having my own opinion and my plans shut down on account of being too young and too inexperienced.
I understood. I had to grow up in a household with a person who was my biological father, but hardly a dad.
As suggested by the opening lines, I had to accept this stranger, who couldn't care less about me, or the family that he found himself being a part of by the grace of my mother and grandparents.
Being plucked out of your home and thrown into a new situation sets a dangerous precedent for your future beliefs. Because childhood traumas are funny like that. They embed ideas into your brain and soul that are so incredibly hard to reprogram and replace with healthy ones; you're lucky if you even identify them, much less begin correcting them, and yourself.
"I don't need you to fix them,“ Cecilia said, “I need you to fix me.”
When someone tattoos into your brain that you're not good enough for them to stay around, much less try to be a good parent, when they come and go as they please, it shakes you to the core of your soul on such a profound, subconscious level, you might spend the rest of your life undermining yourself.
How do you cope with all the above? How did I? I could have waited for Saturn to align with Mars or educate myself. Art helped me. Music helped me. Books helped me.
There is a world out there outside your pitiful bedroom of self-afflicted misery. I should know because I used to own that kind of bedroom, and I happily exchanged the comfort I found in misery for the discomfort of the unknown. I don't have all the answers. But I know there are more answers to be found. There is life after a traumatic childhood. And books provide a much-needed escape into that world until you feel ready to venture out for real.
“No dream is too far a stretch. Unless you dream of a normal, functional family. That sounds just a little too good to be true if you ask me.”
After years of wandering from one European country to another, after years of toil and working on self-development, I landed in Washington, DC, where I found the people who brought the story of Cecilia to life.
“Our goal as a publisher is to help each author create the best version of a book they can create, and to create something that they can be proud of and excited to share with the world,” says Brian Bies, Head of Publishing at New Degree Press who gave a green-light to the manuscript.
It sounded too good to be true after I first encountered New Degree Press and all their editors and coaches (shout out to Professor Eric Koester, and author Haley Newlin), who graciously navigated me through the process of writing a book. Perhaps that is what happens when you wish to get over your trauma, and life presents you with an opportunity to do so — write a book about it, and get it out of your system.
The Bad and The Ugly
I was bitter. And I wanted to write, but I needed to find a way to create an authentic portrait of a soul, not a distorted caricature — a product of my ego. Just imagine writing about a sister who's been bullying you your whole life, or a mother who has always been just a little checked out as a parent.
“Your mother and your aunt — two fiercely intelligent women who fell in love young and effed up their lives over it, paying to this day — that's rare, no? You usually see only dumb women do that in books and movies,” one of my friends who wished to remain anonymous had said to me back in June.
I fell in love, too. But I never lost sight of who I was because of it. I was also impertinent, open-minded, and opinionated. I stuck out like a sore thumb everywhere I went.
Members of the author community actively help choose the author of the cover design.
That's the story — a misfit looking for a home outside their home—a family who aren't your relatives. I did find them, but I don't think anyone would believe me unless I showed them living-breathing proof.
It's tough to write a book about your story without compromising anyone involved in it. It's not fair, after all, for you to tell it. It's always and forever going to be only your side of the story.
And that's incredibly difficult to come to terms with as a writer. Whether fiction or a fact, you're telling stories, and you have to be prepared that people won't like it for one reason or another.
But the risk is worthwhile because there will always be people who will find joy and comfort in it. Maybe you will even find love while searching.
The moral of the story? There is a painstaking difference between the words "relatives" and "family". If you haven't found your family yet, keep looking. They're out there somewhere.
You can check out Zara´s new book here: I am Cecilia by Zara Miller