I am still writing the second part of my memoir. It has been a long, long journey and writing with my full concentration has been hard at times, being a mother of four and a busy one at that, leaves me exhausted but somehow I am still finding the time to write down my words.
With much to do, I believe the book will be complete and ready for publication by October/November of this year. I hope you will all bare with me and keep your emails coming. Your love and support has been so appreciated and valued. Thank you all for your encouraging words of comfort, it gives me the inspiration and drive to write more and more.
Thank you again,
Love always
Vilai*
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Pictures from my Childhood
Just a few pictures of myself as a child.
Singapore, my first ever ice lolly
At kindergarten, Miri
Seemingly happy and fearless
Running in Lutong Beach, Miri
Me in Miri, Sarawak, just after my step-father broke my arm
What Made Me Write My Memoirs
It was September 2005. That day, I sat down and really thought about the events of my life. I was spiraling into depression, I felt confused and lost, not knowing what to do. I was in denial, refusing to believe that my memories and experiences had blighted most of my life. I picked up a pen and started to write. The last time I did this, I had scribbled a suicide note for my mother, rolled it up and stuffed it into a curtain pole.
The feelings of sadness temporarily lifted. I had written down my inner most thoughts, apologised for all the problems I had caused and said goodbye to my Da and Por. I was thirteen years old.
I remember feeling incredibly sad at that time of my life, I had no where to turn, no one to guide me and tell me everything would be OK. I was scared because I did not want to die, I just wanted to be loved and be able to trust those that were supposed to be my role models. In my case, I had nobody to look up to, my trust had been twisted, manipulated and abused. I went on to live like this for many years.
It was not until I reached the age of thirty-two that I realised how therapeutic writing could be. I started to write about things I found beautiful and uplifting then gradually, I went on to write about my childhood. Those were wonderful memories and whilst I wrote, I found myself immersed. The feelings of happiness that surrounded me as a child, came back to me. I was a child again, free and wild, wandering the rice-fields, barefoot and free from harm.
The more I wrote, the more I felt at peace. But that has not always been the case. When I started writing about my first memories of abuse, I found myself shaking physically, crying quietly and wanting to give up. It was horrible, all the bad memories came flooding back. I carried on somehow, pushing myself to face my past. Before I knew it, I had chapters.
When I completed each chapter, I felt a wonderful sense of achievement. I had never addressed my past like this before and slowly, bit by bit, I was healing. I had an adult view of life all of a sudden, things became clearer to me and I started to see things the way they were. Locking up my emotions and hiding them from myself, was not the way to move forward.
To me, writing about it worked. It may not be the way for everybody, because we are all made differently, our emotions can only take a certain amount but for me it helped and my pain gradually faded away each time I finished writing about the most painful parts.
I am not good with words face to face. I clam up and I can be shy. I am also very weary of people, especially men that might resemble my step-father. I can be excitable and humourous and I love to laugh and smile but these things never seemed to last. Since I've been writing my memoirs, I had seen life in a different light.
For the first time in years, I believed in myself, I was not a mad person with strange issues. I was made to feel as if I was weird since the age of four so it was only natural for me to believe that I was 'mad.' Anyone that has been abused - is not mad. Our experiences can turn us mad but really we are people that are desperate for normality, stability and most of all, we need to be loved, just like anyone else on this planet. So how different are we really from the average person?
Not everything that has happened in my life can be explained in a one page synopsis, that would be great but quite impossible. Some of my experiences are hard to believe, even to myself but that does not take away the fact that these things actually happened. Even as an adult, I have friends and relatives who witnessed the violence that surrounded myself and children. They helped me at my time of need. They also lived through my good times when I thought I was lucky, driving them mad with my choice of lifestyle.
Writing has bought me closure. I am now a grown woman with four children and they need me, they have always needed me. I am happier now that I have faced my past and I am moving on.
I want to make my readers understand what goes through the mind of a damaged person, how we think, how we cope and how we move forward. I would never have healed if it wasn't for my family. When I say 'my family,' I mean my children and loving husband. Those are the ones I chose to have in my life, to love and to trust.
So, the reasons why I have written a book about 'me,' is firstly, it helped me to heal and find out who I really was. Secondly, I realised I was accomplishing something for the first time in my life. Thirdly, I believe that it can help others, those that have not been abused in the past and those that have. It is my way of showing you how normal I am, and also give something back in the hope that I can help someone out there who may need to be listened to.
I am no angel, I am no saint, I am just Vilai, someone who has never been listened to, someone who wants to write about her past because she does not have the words to speak confidently about it.
I have no desire to make money, I have a 'fiver' in my purse right now and I am smiling, I have no materialistic desires, (I've been there done it so many times, it never made me happy.) I don't want to be famous,(just want a nice quiet life and go home to Thailand.)
Even if the book never gets to publishing stage, my biggest achievement yet will be the fact that my children and husband know about me. They know the truth about what happened to Mummy and what Mummy went through to get where she is now. Through my words, they have learnt how much I treasured and protected them from the type of life I endured as a child, keeping them safe and free from harm. No amount of money can buy this. I have given them everything I lost out on but most of all, I have given them my love. Love is priceless.
I just want is to heal whilst I write, I just want to be happy and somehow make someone else out there happy too. If I can reach out to even one person, it would be so worthwhile, it would mean the world to me.
Thank you for taking the time out to read this post.
Thank you for your emails of support and encouragement, believe me, reading them makes my day. Thank you!
Love Always
Vilai*
The feelings of sadness temporarily lifted. I had written down my inner most thoughts, apologised for all the problems I had caused and said goodbye to my Da and Por. I was thirteen years old.
I remember feeling incredibly sad at that time of my life, I had no where to turn, no one to guide me and tell me everything would be OK. I was scared because I did not want to die, I just wanted to be loved and be able to trust those that were supposed to be my role models. In my case, I had nobody to look up to, my trust had been twisted, manipulated and abused. I went on to live like this for many years.
It was not until I reached the age of thirty-two that I realised how therapeutic writing could be. I started to write about things I found beautiful and uplifting then gradually, I went on to write about my childhood. Those were wonderful memories and whilst I wrote, I found myself immersed. The feelings of happiness that surrounded me as a child, came back to me. I was a child again, free and wild, wandering the rice-fields, barefoot and free from harm.
The more I wrote, the more I felt at peace. But that has not always been the case. When I started writing about my first memories of abuse, I found myself shaking physically, crying quietly and wanting to give up. It was horrible, all the bad memories came flooding back. I carried on somehow, pushing myself to face my past. Before I knew it, I had chapters.
When I completed each chapter, I felt a wonderful sense of achievement. I had never addressed my past like this before and slowly, bit by bit, I was healing. I had an adult view of life all of a sudden, things became clearer to me and I started to see things the way they were. Locking up my emotions and hiding them from myself, was not the way to move forward.
To me, writing about it worked. It may not be the way for everybody, because we are all made differently, our emotions can only take a certain amount but for me it helped and my pain gradually faded away each time I finished writing about the most painful parts.
I am not good with words face to face. I clam up and I can be shy. I am also very weary of people, especially men that might resemble my step-father. I can be excitable and humourous and I love to laugh and smile but these things never seemed to last. Since I've been writing my memoirs, I had seen life in a different light.
For the first time in years, I believed in myself, I was not a mad person with strange issues. I was made to feel as if I was weird since the age of four so it was only natural for me to believe that I was 'mad.' Anyone that has been abused - is not mad. Our experiences can turn us mad but really we are people that are desperate for normality, stability and most of all, we need to be loved, just like anyone else on this planet. So how different are we really from the average person?
Not everything that has happened in my life can be explained in a one page synopsis, that would be great but quite impossible. Some of my experiences are hard to believe, even to myself but that does not take away the fact that these things actually happened. Even as an adult, I have friends and relatives who witnessed the violence that surrounded myself and children. They helped me at my time of need. They also lived through my good times when I thought I was lucky, driving them mad with my choice of lifestyle.
Writing has bought me closure. I am now a grown woman with four children and they need me, they have always needed me. I am happier now that I have faced my past and I am moving on.
I want to make my readers understand what goes through the mind of a damaged person, how we think, how we cope and how we move forward. I would never have healed if it wasn't for my family. When I say 'my family,' I mean my children and loving husband. Those are the ones I chose to have in my life, to love and to trust.
So, the reasons why I have written a book about 'me,' is firstly, it helped me to heal and find out who I really was. Secondly, I realised I was accomplishing something for the first time in my life. Thirdly, I believe that it can help others, those that have not been abused in the past and those that have. It is my way of showing you how normal I am, and also give something back in the hope that I can help someone out there who may need to be listened to.
I am no angel, I am no saint, I am just Vilai, someone who has never been listened to, someone who wants to write about her past because she does not have the words to speak confidently about it.
I have no desire to make money, I have a 'fiver' in my purse right now and I am smiling, I have no materialistic desires, (I've been there done it so many times, it never made me happy.) I don't want to be famous,(just want a nice quiet life and go home to Thailand.)
Even if the book never gets to publishing stage, my biggest achievement yet will be the fact that my children and husband know about me. They know the truth about what happened to Mummy and what Mummy went through to get where she is now. Through my words, they have learnt how much I treasured and protected them from the type of life I endured as a child, keeping them safe and free from harm. No amount of money can buy this. I have given them everything I lost out on but most of all, I have given them my love. Love is priceless.
I just want is to heal whilst I write, I just want to be happy and somehow make someone else out there happy too. If I can reach out to even one person, it would be so worthwhile, it would mean the world to me.
Thank you for taking the time out to read this post.
Thank you for your emails of support and encouragement, believe me, reading them makes my day. Thank you!
Love Always
Vilai*
2 comments:
You go girl, a great inspiration to all of us. Good to know that there are those like yourself, who are brave and courageous in the face of adversity, and have come out stronger and victorious. Your friend in the faith......
Keep writing!
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