Processing Your Life

“Tell me a story.”

When I was young, my father told me stories before I went to sleep at night. He had a great imagination and he took me on journeys to fantastic places with fascinating characters. When the lights were out, I repeated the stories in my head and I made up my own. I continued to do this throughout my life.

I began to seriously work on my memoir after my mother passed away. There were things I did and said that she wouldn't have liked or approved of and I didn’t want to hurt her, so when she was no longer here, I decided to tell the truth about my life. I had questions. Had I done enough? Had I made too many mistakes? Had I met enough fascinating people and been enough places to write something compelling that would capture a reader’s attention? As the highlights of my life flashed before me and I wrote them down, the answer was an unequivocal “Yes.”

When I was in elementary school, I wrote poetry. I never stopped writing and as I grew, I kept penning stories and poems about the things I was going through. I took ten trips to the Philippines to research the faith healers. I kept a journal and the stories that I wrote became my first book, “Awakening the Healer Within.” I lived in Monte Carlo for a year when I was in the ballet. I wrote about it. I learned French and I wrote a poem in French. I was in Italy, dancing in the Spoleto Music Festival. I wrote about it. Doing this made me feel less lonely, more connected and a path to lighten my heart.

When I review these stories, I start to remember things I had forgotten. Pieces about my travels, my loves, my losses, my family challenges, my failures and my achievements. The more I read, the easier it becomes to recall the wondrous, curious, funny and often tragic events that define my life. I’m often moved to tears by my courage and my fears, sometimes proud of myself and at other times, ashamed. How could I have been so wise? How could I have been so stupid? How could I have been so aware? How could I have been so blind”

My stories help me realized how I’ve been affected and transformed by everything and everyone that showed up in my life. I get in touch with the lonely little ballet-obsessed girl who worked her butt off and later, the grown woman maneuvering her way through a life of obstacles. I recall times when I wondered if I should take the right path, the left path or just stand still. But whether I’m clear or confused, enthusiastic or embittered, fearful or brave, anxious or paralyzed or parts of all of the above, I’m constantly astonished at what shows up:

Figuring out how to raise myself when I left home at 14. Performing at the White House. Standing out in the street in D. C. to watch the procession for JFK when he was assassinated. Jackie’s veiled face. The horse with the stirrups facing backwards. World leaders. The sound of the muffled drums.

I remember seeing Salvador Dali flying down a stairway in a flowing black cape and an ocelot on his shoulder. Rudolph Nureyev walking across the beach in Monte Carlo in purple swimming trunks and purple suspenders. Andy Warhol peeking through a crack in the studio door to watch us rehearse. And then, there were the bleeding blisters, the loneliness, strained muscles and the disappointment of losing a coveted part in a ballet.

When I wrote my memoir, I faced some hard questions. Would I tell the truth about the things that shamed me or would I leave them out? Would I write about my failure and risk being judged? Would I talk about my successes or would that seem self-important? I finally decided to tell it all with no filters. If I had gone through something, anything, other people were going through it, too. I wasn’t that special. I was a regular human being and it was a relief to tell the truth.

Painters paint. Dancers dance. Writers write. Whatever form of creativity you do, I believe it's an artist’s responsibility to expose the things that that people fear. To reveal themselves and become vulnerable. To stop editing and start telling the truth. If you don’t, you’ll be bored and your work will be dull. As long as you’re honest on the page, the canvas or the dance floor, your creation will be captivating. Just start anywhere and let it flow. Celebrate yourself for the wonderful things that you have achieved. Forgive yourself for things that you wish you hadn’t done. Or for things you wish you had done.

Remembering and telling your stories gives your life meaning. You don’t have be a great writer. You don't even have to be good at it. Writing isn’t about being good or bad. It’s about being authentic. Your stories are the blue print of your experiences. I have told my stories to process my life. To create connection to myself and the world around me. I see it as a tool to understand what I’ve done and why. I use my stories to spark my memories. I keep in mind that what we forget, we repeat. What we remember, we heal.