After a near-death car trip with Jack last week, me and my PTSD left for a glorious three days at Solstice Writing Retreat. I don’t want to talk about the car disaster nor the downward trajectory of my life with Jack, so let’s focus on my beautiful escape to a high mountain valley, where I wrote and laughed a lot, and honestly cried a few times from beautiful writing and music.
I often feel conflicted about how happy it makes me to leave home and how hard it is to come back. It feels kind of tragic that I love leaving so much and that I so dread returning. I hear people say that the best part of a vacation is how good it is to be home. This concept is foreign to me, you guys. Going home is like stepping back into the poorly-run mental facility of my life where I am the entire staff.
One of the writing exercises assigned by the ineffable Louise Plummer was the six word memoir. We wrote snatches of our lives in six word sentences, which sounds laborious but is actually pure fun.
JoAnne, a redhead with good stories and a sense of humor, wrote my favorite six word memoir:
Why motherhood? It’s a good question.
Hahahahaha, we roared.
My first attempt was my best:
Megan has first baby, nails motherhood.
The rest of my SWM’s ended up telling a story:
Jack is born, life blows up.
I deal in poop and vacuums.
Autism and delays make weird bedfellows.
Disabilities slough off any unnecessary thing.
Only crucial, care-worn, vital things remain.
I’ll try my hand at a few new ones to continue the story:
I’m sadder and kinder, jaded too.
There are no easy answers now.
This: a joy and a chore.
What isn’t a chore? My writing friends, and our fairy godmother teachers. They are just joy. Here are half of the gorgeous women from my writing group and our generous teachers all trying to pose gracefully in a row. It’s not an easy thing. I love them.