Something of an introduction, then, stemming from a writing exercise I found online a couple of years ago. This amazing friend and I used to take on these little exercises and show each other our work – it was a beautiful thing.
This is one such exercise, credited to the originator of the idea … it’s a great exercise in brevity (and quite cathartic) so please give it a go (I chose to do alternate years instead of every year which was specified)
Chronological Record of My Life (Amy Krouse Rosenthal). Write one sentence about yourself for each alternate year you have lived.
Born, no kicking nor screaming, a peaceful child. Enshrined and encircled by Mother’s love I suffer only by this new wailing infant who fails to steal my thunder. Aware and alive now I have friends and parties, I remember a pretty white dress with pink satin belt. Mummy and Daddy divorce, but this passes me by. In a smaller house we now reside, not in harmony or harm, just living – life is what it is when you’re nine.
The year of change, new school, new body – I bleed monthly, I ride horses. Oh that kiss, that tasted of 7-Up, First, I shall never forget you. I change school again, grow and feel grown, surely there is no more to come.
I’m out of school, on the brink of leaving my first love, and only now I realise all of this so young! Then nineteen, which should be excitement and transition, but is for me a rut and trying to find a niche or vocation.
Twenty-one – oh to have been reckless and young, instead of a Mother myself, but this year is LOVE, absolute and completing the circle. Absorbed in academic life this might be my happiest year, my personality finally exists, I have purpose and people to hold dear.
At twenty-five I have more questions than answers, truths I can’t face – the morose participles of my character rule the daily grind and search for meaning outside of the man I love. And no better off those years later, an in-between stage of stagnation and the realisation that the man I love and me will not be.
And now, some progress I suppose, no leaps or bounds but days of contentment and moments of delight – more questions, avoiding the conclusions I have come to.