Writing About Your Trauma for Money is Never Dirty — It’s Authentic
It’s also a slap in the face of those who hurt you.
Being raised in an environment that leads to PTSD is not only difficult, it’s a lifetime investment in pain.
While mindset and having a positive outlook on life are laudable things, and important to helping one get a handle on those memories and traumas, those aren’t all that’s necessary.
It takes a lot of effort — real, hard work — to find a way beyond it all.
For several years, I did talk radio, hosting multiple shows and spending 12 or more hours a day immersed in the whole radio world. Through it, I had the chance to talk to a lot of guests who were all about the positivity-only movement and the ideals behind it.
One topic almost all of them discussed was how they were upset about people writing stories or doing podcasts, videos, and shows about the traumas they endured. They thought it was not just wrong; it was, to them, a cardinal sin. It was a shameful act.
If you look through the stories and books I’ve published over the years, you’ll come to realize I tend to speak from a platform of trauma. I’ve been through the wringer, my friend, and come out on the other side of it damaged.
Years of abuse at the hands of a whiskey-drunk father and “if I don’t look it never happens” mother led me to more years of abuse at the fists of an ex-wife. I’ve been stabbed, robbed more times than most people will encounter in their days, live my life as a blind person, and have the train wrecks of multiple suicide attempts on my soul.
I write about those things because those are my experiences. They’re my life. Whether I’ve “moved on” from them or am still recovering from those events doesn’t matter. They’re a part of who I am.
It’s not wrong if it’s the truth. Right?
I wouldn’t be the “me” I am today if it weren’t for the culmination of all the events in my life — good and bad.
I don’t feel upset with myself when I talk about the things that happened. I don’t hold any negativity toward my spirit about them. It wasn’t me who put me through those things, right?
It was them.
So, again, because these things are what make up my life and my experiences, and are such an integral and hard-hitting part of my past, I write about them. I don’t hide any aspects of my life from myself or others because it would be disingenuous of me to do so.
Sometimes when I write about the traumas, it’s from a humorous perspective. I’ve been through enough things and close calls with the grim reaper that I have a bit of gallows humor with it all. It helps me cope.
Other times, the stories I tell are more serious. They need that darker tone (“negative”, if you will) because that’s what the subject calls for. It depends on the story, and the audience I am targeting with it.
Speaking about events is just data.
It’s just information. It’s data.
If someone talks about their traumas or pain, it’s not because they’re being negative about it. It’s because those things are a fact of their existence.
Information itself is neither negative nor positive. It’s what one does with it that makes it positive or negative. How the person hearing the story of a traumatic event deals with it in their own heart and mind is not the responsibility of the person telling it.
Some people, like me, write from a position of pain. We’re experiencers, trying to have a cathartic moment to release some of the pressure inside. Other times, we are doing it to edify and educate any of the masses who happen across the story we’re telling, hoping it might change the world in some small way for someone else experiencing it.
The mindset of the reader is not the responsibility of the author.
I’ve seen an unfortunate number of authors being bashed for the fact when they write their stories, they are profiting from them in some way. They think it’s wrong for someone to gain from their pain.
Maybe that mindset comes from a stance of believing it feeds into the “negative vibe” that the trauma itself has as its flavor. They don’t want to see others get hurt because profiting from negativity isn’t good for the soul to them. I suppose that’s at least honest, though, I think, an incorrect stance.
Others, though, do it because they have a sort of toxic positivity to them. “Negative shouldn’t exist,” so speaking of negative things creates yet more negative things.
It’s a vicious circle and does harm to those who experience traumatizing events.
They happened. You can’t just erase those things away, no matter how much positive thoughts and vibes you put into them. They’re a part of a person’s makeup. They’re scars that will never fully heal.
There’s a time and place for all things.
If the people who did me harm knew how they affected me in such extreme ways, they’d take a sick pride in it. They’d laugh, practically singing at my misery.
It may sound strange to those who haven’t gone through those kinds of experiences, but, frankly, if I can make a buck off of it to spite their wicked faces, I’ll do so.
That sound negative to you? I make no apologies. It’s who I am. Speaking (or writing) about traumas, not hiding them away so others don’t have to look at them, is authentic. It’s ultimately a constructive act.
To do otherwise is no different from stepping over a homeless person laying on the sidewalk because they don’t exist in your positive-only world.
There’s a time and place for speaking of the great, good, wonderful, amazing, positive things in the world. I love talking and writing about them, too.
It’s not always appropriate or necessary, though.
Compost is valuable.
And, hey, look at it this way. Making a couple of dollars off of something horrible you’ve been through at least makes the scrap-heap you’re left with useful.
Compost has valuable properties. Writing about the crap you’ve been through can do the same.
About me:
I am an author with over a dozen books and dozens of short stories published. I have experience with both traditional and self-publishing and love to discuss the pros and cons of both.
Why do I write? Because I am blind and live on low disability payments each month. The government graced me with trying to live on about $700 per month, and I decided to start publishing because it’s a way to supplement.
If you like my work and feel inclined to support it, please consider buying me a Ko-Fi.
Thank you from the depths of my soul for being here. Keep striving to “be the best you that you can be” in this moment.
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