After our Italy trip, the blogs came so easy- a little vino here, some gelato there… they have since come to a screeching halt. My writing coach and I have been tirelessly working through my memoir’s edits. It’s been mostly me working feverishly through all these new feelings that come up as I relive my sordid past in black and white.
Originally, I didn’t have a book introduction and then one morning as I sat on the couch, drinking my preworkout, deep in thought about whether or not I was going to increase weights for my upcoming workout, it wrote itself. I was merely a channel funneling ideas onto paper via a car dealership pen. Here it is. Short, bittersweet and to the point:
“I hate book introductions. I often skip right over them and head to chapter one. Sometimes I stare at the Table of Contents for a solid 20 minutes before even considering chapter one. And here I am forcing an introduction on you. I promise it’ll be quick and painless.
This book took me almost ten years to complete. It still doesn’t feel complete. How could so many pieces of one’s life be… complete? The writing process was not nearly as painless as the introduction will be. You, lucky bastard.
Reliving the particulars of my sordid life in such detail, so as to paint just the right picture, felt like tearing skin, layer by calloused layer. This memoir isn’t meant to bash anyone’s individual faith. You can praise a head of lettuce for all I care. Your relationship with your chosen entity is between you two. Yet, if you think you might take it personally when I reveal ugly truths about how I was raised and the havoc this denomination’s god (lowercase for a reason) has wreaked on my life, then your faith may be easily shaken and this book isn’t for you. Put it back on the shelf or return it from wherever you happened to find it.
While writing this book I wasn’t looking for absolution, or using it as a means to clear my conscience. Things I’ve done, no matter how shameful, are a direct result of the calculated mind control I experienced. I found it increasingly difficult to make good choices and critical thinking was foreign to me. I’ve done many immoral things. I was tangled up in my own insolent rebellion while simultaneously baffled by a severely damaged moral compass.
If you think you might be comforted knowing you’re not the only one who’s been betrayed, exploited, abandoned and afraid of a religious sect, or anyone who’s forced you into blind submission, may you find solace within these pages.
If you too, have Deaf parents or parents you needed to grow up in a hurry to protect, while being enslaved by nonsensical, religious dogma, or any other oppressive body- then turn the page, my friend. This one’s for you.
I only ask one favor: give each character a chance, including mine. It’s much easier to vilify than it is to honor and defend. Everyone described within these pages is a real person (some names have been changed). And real people fuck up.
I’m proud to have been born a Mallory; I bear a name I’ll take to my grave. Although I may not be proud of every choice I made along the way, I’d like to think each choice led me where I needed to be; and I couldn’t have come to that understanding without every person in this book.
Cheers to the heroes and the villains.”
Short, bittersweet and hopefully gives you an idea of what you’re in for.