I've been having some intense nightmares lately. The kind where I have to journal about them when I wake, in order to close the pages on them afterwards. I've been dreaming a lot of death lately since my mom died, but these have been of a completely different variety.
You see, last weekend I spent about an hour on the phone with a reporter sharing my story. I still tip toe around it occasionally. But things have happened that made it clear that others that grew up like I did need to speak up, in order to help others.
And it still terrifies me every time. I feel unsafe and exposed every time I share. I never wanted to be labeled as "the artist who grew up in a cult." But now I have to say, why not?
Because every time I write something new, I get an email from someone who says that the story helped them.
Even if it's one person who's able to escape abuse and is free to live and love as they choose, then I have to say "bring on the nightmares."
I'll share the piece when it's published.
In the meantime, if you want to know the overview of my story, checkout my article on The Hairpin from a few years back: http://thehairpin.com/2012/10/life-without-reverend-moon/