Claiming My Voice

by Lena Fein

As a toddler I adored stories, especially fairytales. My father would come into my bedroom just before bedtime and read my sister and me a story from a large, colorful book of classic fairytales. He’d change his voice to portray the different characters. I’d gasp with delight when he squeaked out the voice of Cinderella and hide my head when he became the Big Bad Wolf. 

By the time I was in first grade, I penciled my own stories on the ruled paper my teacher handed out in class. By second grade, I used all my quarters to buy a diary from the local 5 and Dime Store. As soon as I came home, I flopped on my bed with a pencil and poured out my words of adoration about Lou, who sat in front of me in class. I wrote about his crooked smile with its missing front tooth and his red corduroys. When I was done, I hid my new diary with its first passage under my mattress.

A few days later, I skipped into our house after school. Suddenly, as if lying in wait, my mother lunged toward me with a grimace on her face and my diary in her hands.

“How dare you?” she shrieked. “How dare you write such things! You should be ashamed of yourself! Go straight to your room until your father comes home!”

Sobbing, I ran past her and dove under my bed covers. I had been so proud of my words, but now I wondered if something was wrong with them, if something was wrong with me. Still, I held out hope that my father would tell me that my words were beautiful. When my father came home, I crept out of my room as my mother read my diary out loud. My three sisters were there, too, listening with blank stares. When my mother finished, my father stepped silently into his bedroom. I could not bear my pain, my shame. I ran into my bedroom. In that singular moment, I vowed never to bare my heart onto the page. 

Fast forward many decades working as an engineer in high tech, proficient in complex mathematical equations. Promoted to VP of Marketing & Sales, I traveled the globe writing marketing materials and giving seminars to hundreds as the company became more successful. Still, my true voice was shut down. My feelings locked inside, I was terrified of shame and revealing my heart.

I was fifty-one years old when my mother died. As she took her last breath, her eyes glowed with a light I had not seen before. I saw love and kindness in her eyes.  This was entirely new.  Her gaze was usually sharp and malevolent.  Emotion stirred in my chest.  It was as if I had been sleeping my whole life and been awakened by a kiss from my mother’s eyes.  

After my mother died, I faced myself in the mirror as if seeing myself for the first time. Seeing the light in my dying mother’s eyes began the melting of the film that had protected my heart for so many years. In a leap of faith, I left my job in high tech. For the first time, I allowed the processing part of my brain to take a back seat to the deepest longings of my heart. My heart came out quietly and slowly, checking the waters for the sharp grip of terror and shame. 

Slowly, in small steps, I put my story to the page and reclaimed my true voice hiding underneath my armor. I became braver as I wrote and joined a few writing circles where I listened to others read select chapters from their memoirs. I was shaking the first time I read a chapter of my own out loud. I expected shame, but I did not get it. It was a safe space where shame was not allowed, and we could only share how hearing a passage made us feel. 

My 30-something daughter went on a trip to Ireland with me. As she drove on the “wrong” side of winding country roads, she asked me to read a few chapters from my book. 

She said, “Mom, that’s good! Keep writing!” 

My courage grew the more I wrote. And the more I read out loud, the more the armor around my heart fell away. I felt a sense of liberation which was priceless. 

With a huge leap of faith, I finally published my memoir “Shattering the Mirror” in my late sixties. I thought I would be shamed. But something extraordinary happened, I did not receive shame. 

Instead, I heard:

“That happened to me too.” 

“I am glad you wrote about your journey; it helped me on my own journey.” 

“You are so brave, and your words help me be brave.”

I was excited, but a small part of me still waited for the shoe of shame to kick me to the curb. It did not. Several women asked if I would publish an audible version. I shook with fear when I saw that the sound engineer was a male in his thirties, my son’s age. I noticed my feeling of terror as I read my book out loud in the recording booth. I made lots of stutters and fumbles. I feared shame, but I did not get it. Not once. My heart embraced a whole new level of healing and courage.

It’s never too late to claim your story and release your shame. Speaking—and writing—your truth will set you free and inspire others to embrace their journey.  

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SHATTERING THE MIRROR

Shattering the Mirror is a memoir about one woman’s quest to confront her life and see through the distortions of her traumatic past. Lena was raised in madness by a violent, controlling mother obsessed with household cleanliness and the beauty of her porcelain dolls. To survive, Lena perfected the art of dissociation, racing through school with straight A’s, becoming a top producer at a high-tech company, and clicking through two marriages without ever slowing down long enough to fully experience life. At fifty-one, Lena looks into the eyes of her dying mother, and her warped mirror finally shatters. She begins to experience life in a new way. She learns to feel and forgive, shedding her armor and embracing life.

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Lena Fein is an author, retired engineer, and philanthropist based in San Francisco. A graduate of Engineering at UC Berkeley, Lena spent decades as Vice President of Sales and Marketing at a successful high tech company. When Lena was fifty-one, her mother died which propelled Lena on a path of healing from childhood abuse and trauma. Her debut memoir, Shattering the Mirror, explores her transformative journey to wholeness. Lena believes it is never too late to reclaim your freedom and truth. Now in her late sixties, Lena can often be found taking long walks by the San Francisco Bay and hugging her grandchildren.

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Tags: featured, women writers

Category: On Writing