4. Aug, 2017

Duffle coat identity

You know when a healthy puppy is born how they seem to have a fat, fluffy and thick handful of coat that appears three of four sizes too big for them? Well, that coat reminds me of a duffle coat I had as a child. It had growing room enough for me to get several seasons wear, but the puppy coat you so readily enjoy burying your hand in is the pup's duffle coat and will one day disclose the dog’s identity.

For a French poodle it will be curly and woolly, a Doberman…short and coarse, and a Rough collie, magnificent, long, soft and flowing, and he will wear his regal coat with the pride of a lion. It will mark his individuality and the world will know with just one glance who he is.

Several years ago when I became ill, the loss of my duffle coat, or my identity, sent me plummeting into my winter of discontent and let me tell you, weathering dark and frigid winters without that coat, has on occasions found me displaced, lost and exposed.

I loved my career as a content maker in the media and being forced to leave such a great love behind was in many ways a little soul destroying. I became lost and uncertain of who I am. Now you may be thinking that a career does not maketh us, but how would you feel if you had worked at something you loved for 22 years only to have it cruelly, through circumstance, snatched away from you?

We all like to believe there is a purpose to our lives and often when we meet someone new the ice-breaking question will be “what do you do?” Setting aside the importance of all I have in my life such as a beautiful family whom I love dearly, for the past five years I have been unable to answer that question with pride. My illness became my identity when I would say “I used to be a radio producer” and then often with shame, feel the need to go on to explain that I am now medically retired

So…who am I, and why does it matter?

Depression erodes self-belief, self-confidence and self-love and at a time when you are at your worst, it is easy to forget that you are also grieving the loss of a great love…your identity and yourself!

I have spent many years now slogging at blogging and have never considered myself a “writer”. Just someone who slaps at a keyboard to rid themselves of often extreme emotion. You, my followers, have been so generous in your praise of my writing and of the content I create, but many of you are friends and family and we tend not to believe validation we receive from loved ones as being true.

Yesterday I sat down with an author and mentor from the Hunter Writer’s Centre, she had done her homework, she had taken the time to read some of my blogs and short stories and in a passing moment she referred to me as “a writer”. It felt to me like I was standing in a bell tower at the stroke of midnight, my body being pummelled by the resonance of the tolling bell. But in my true style of deflection I said: “No, I wouldn’t call myself a writer, just someone who enjoys writing”.

So I let this settle for a while, thinking whether it was indeed true. And I thought to myself that if an author and mentor can validate my work, then maybe it is time for me to recognise my own talent. I may not be incredibly gifted at my art, but I am working all the time at trying to improve it.

Have I finally grown into my duffle coat identity? Can I, at last, stand tall and proudly call myself “a writer”? Am I worthy of this honour?

In this life, there are those that do, and there are those that do because they love what they do. I love what I do!

For some, this blog may appear shallow and maybe I’m just hungry for validation and I should be content with that…but the desire to belong is powerful and sometimes, when darkness circles, when at times we don’t feel like we are enough, perhaps putting on our duffle coat to acknowledge our talents may help ground us and remind us that we have value in so many facets of our life. Engaging someone to help clear our field of vision, so we can see what we are capable of may just help restore our faith and belief in ourselves.