Today has been a very mixed day but a good one. I realized that even though many years have past and we become different people, deep down inside we are always the same.We hold the same values, the same needs, the same emotions and the same qualities.They may display differently as we grow through the stages of life but ultimately, they are the same.
The books I write are always true stories. My childhood in I DID TELL I DID and my later teenage years into woman hood in NOBODY TOLD ME. I have never wanted to write fiction, I don’t even know if I could. In my own experience, most times real life is harsher and sometimes more traumatic than any novel, because it is true. That mere fact makes the reader ‘feel’ for the character and empathise with them.The writer I have become, uses her memories, her experiences and the truth to tell others about her life or about others lives. Writing my stories, my life experiences has two positives. It can help others in some way, either by making them realise they are not alone or by simply allowing them to believe they can get through their own horrors. The second way is to help me process my own demons. Sexual abuse, cruelty, loss of a baby to adoption and the other traumas suffered.All of these occurred in the first two books because they happened to me. I haven’t dramatized anything, if anything I have left things out. My childhood was a web of lies and that has made me see honesty as the most important quality that I live by. I don’t lie and I feel hurt and insulted when I am lied to.So my first two books are me , my third book is about honesty or the lack of, about hurt in abundance, betrayal, anxiety, stress and horror. The same things experienced throughout my life that I had worked hard on processing and surviving. I only ever intended to write the two books but the police involved suggested I write the third, as a warning to Internet users.So my third book is about a different kind of harm done to me.Done by Jade Louise Wood, a name I want everyone to remember. Someone I only tried to help. So, the Writer, is about telling my own stories,my life and the present. Readers choose to read them or not but writing them is a cathartic exercise for writers of true personal stories, or was and is in my case.
After surviving the horrors of abuse, I have always tried to help others who have been harmed. In my work as a Psychotherapist I work hard to help clients come through their trauma and become survivors after victims.I am always honest to them as people and I expect and receive honesty from them, to enable us to work together to a satisfactory ending. As a woman, honesty is paramount. I have lost out big time to keep my integrity intact.I can’t lie to people or for people and have always thought of this as a virtue but it sometimes comes at high cost to me. My childhood was full of fear and deceit, I have worked hard to eradicate these things from the life of everyone I love and anyone who asks help of me. I try hard not to dwell on my own stuff, I gain pleasure from helping those who need it and try hard not to refuse this help to anyone. There was no one there for me so I want to be the ‘someone’ for anyone who comes to me. This was my downfall.I am not going to repeat what happened 2 years ago, if you are reading this at don’t know, please read back. So, honesty if always my best policy.
The Little Girl.
Now this is where it all began.My early years were traumatic, painful, scary and full of horror. The Writer in me has tried hard to put this all to bed, deal with it, by telling her story. Process it whatever you call it. I thought I had succeeded. But I haven’t, not really. I have moved away from the hurt terrified child, I have dealt with my beginning and my middle and am working on my ‘end’. But it is never far away. All the work I have done can be triggered to throw me back to those dark horrific days. I didn’t think this could happen anymore but it can. We deal with our past and either change how we remember or we box it all up and hope no one rips the lids off the boxes. But sometimes they can as they did two years ago to me. Yes two years ago and it seems like it was yesterday. Time doesn’t matter, memories have no timescale when they rush back into your head as though it were yesterday. Because it was a long time ago, doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt, doesn’t scare you or doesn’t matter. Today I realised that my years as little Cassie, made me who I am today. All the nasties were building blocks to where I am now.Yes my writing enabled me to process that life. Yes the Woman worked hard at ‘moving on’ whatever that might mean.But the reality is this. No matter what has happened as a child, as a woman and as a writer, nothing will ultimately change the child inside. Little Cassie.
Readers have kindly said I must have been strong to survive my childhood. They say I must be a very strong woman. Well perhaps they are right, I hope they are right. I am now going to draw on that strength and stop making excuses, to stop using my failing health not to write and get on and write my third book! NOBODY TOLD ME is doing well, and is in the Top 30 so that’s good and I DID TELL I DID is selling again, so again good. When I finish THE FACE BEHIND THE SCREEN and try and get it into a National Paper, that will also sell, I am sure.
I want to thank everyone who is supporting my writing and buying NOBODY and also those who have showed such unfaltering support in the past 2 years especially.
Little Cassie is back with a vengeance. Watch this space! xx