Maybe there is something terribly wrong with me, but I know stories much worse than a mother leaving for three years and then coming back. I certainly understand how the children must have felt, but Jesus Christ. Many many worse things have happened to kids. You didn't leave your children. All you did was reveal something you didn't know was kept hidden. Holy shit. As for the side of your fmily that abandoned you? Maybe that is good riddance. I'm so sorry you suffered, were made to suffer for this. I am glad you have put this to bed with your new book.
I completely agree with you, and maybe there is something terribly wrong with me, as well, Abigail. I feel good about our club! Write on Elissa, as the rest of us that have inherited the fear of abandonment. We write because we can’t not. I’m proposaling a tough one now. We must. Thank you.
Elissa, I just want to bop that dream killing person on the head! Dream killers...I had one. He told me I was "Ordinary." It was a teacher, and for way too many years, I believed that assessment of me. And then, my world broke open and so did I. Between the sobs, I began to write, and out of it, came a book. And I hope he has come across that book and said to himself, "Well I'll be damned, I was wrong." But, whether he does, or not, I know that I am not now "Ordinary" nor have I ever been. I cannot wait to read your book and shall visit my favorite bookshop tomorrow and get it!
Years ago, after leaving a toxic spiritual teacher I'd been with for a decade, and losing community too, tears streamed when I first heard the quote -(and I've seen it attributed to both Rumi and Carl Jung) - "The genius hides behind the wound." I cried in the hope it might be true. It turned out to be so for me, and I'm in awe when I see this magic unfold in others. It happens slowly, and it takes a lot of work. Elissa, I bow to your beautiful manifestation of this alchemy -- staying with this horrible wound that happened to you in such a way that you've turned it into something that is medicine for so many others. I loved Permission. I loved Poor Man's Feast. I love every newsletter you send. (I have yet to read Motherland but will!) You're pouring medicine out for others with such generosity, and I'm so grateful. Thank you for your courage and dedication.
I've already read Permission twice since I bought at Woodstock Bookfest in April. It's brilliant, it's wrenching and it helped me make choices about how to proceed in my writing as it applies to the secrets and lies in my family that I was raised with. It's helped me free myself to write honestly about the relationships that damaged my mental health for far too many years. I've struggled from the brink many times, and have settle safely in the land of recovery. Your writing has been an inspiration to me for years, not just because of the things you say, but also because of the eloquence and elegance with which say them. Thank you, Elissa.
I’m full of admiration for you wading through the intergenerational quagmire and bringing your learnings together from the journey into Permission for all of us, I can’t wait to read it. Thank you.
Ironically, these gorgeous words felt like permission to retract the unsigned permission slips I've been doling out so that I can finally own the story that is already mine.
Elissa, I read this essay three times, this part in particular with a hand over my heart: "And still: my first instinct was to reach out and ask permission to publish the On Being essay from the person who had been responsible for trying to take it away. I was considering asking permission to write about permission from the person who had, three years earlier, sought to punish and silence me..."
Ohhh yes. Feeling this.
Another "whoa" of mine while reading: quite often the silencer sitting across from me with their Diet Coke and striped straw and plate of ugani is not another person at all but my own voice of ancient shame, clinging silently and invisibly. And perhaps, waiting patiently for me to give myself permission to face her.
”I remember their face when they told me I’d never write again, after which they blithely sipped their diet Coke through a striped straw.” A harrowing sentence that will stick with me. I know this is an essay — and a powerful one — about coming out the other side of experiences like this, but, ye gods. Casual cruelty and desire to undermine are shocking to encounter, even at a remove like this. It's not how we humans are meant to treat each other.
Will you please (🥰) reach out to events coordinator at Readers Books in Sonoma CA to ask if you may present your reading/book when you are in No California this coming September - her name is Rosie Parks - as a member of the Sonoma community I know you will be welcomed AND embraced
Oh I’m so glad you wrote this. My mom disowned me because she’s homophobic, and I’ve begun writing about how it impacted me. I’m listening to your audiobook and it’s already becoming my new crutch when I freeze up.
Just learned my estranged brother who died ten days ago allegedly did not respond to my care package and my reaching out upon learning of his illness because I’ve written and published an essay revealing the family secret. I don’t know if that’s true of him but just receiving such a message from a family member tells me enough. It’s complicated. I do not feel shame for doing so. That shame belongs to the secret keepers. Buying your book!
Wow! Now I have to read Permission. I have had so much anxiety and shame over writing and possibly publishing my story because I think I know how my family of origin will react (all entrenched members of the sect/cult I left). Writing on Substack has helped a lot, but I know they are not here and don't read what I write, so maybe that's a fool's approach.
It certainly wasn’t right for your family member to shame and ostracize you. All she saw was her own hurt and she couldn’t come close to perceiving how your grandmother’s abandonment affected your father and ultimately you. I too know well how family secrets carry collateral damage. Kudos to you for breaking that chain. I did as well and it was necessary, freeing and cathartic.
Wow Alissa i am not sure you remember me from days that I lived in Modiin and I rarely follow you due to lack of personal contact. I have never read Permission but this must be one of your best pieces written that I was priviliged to see today! Thank you for your clarity and honesty may you live content that you have a voice that others hear!
Maybe there is something terribly wrong with me, but I know stories much worse than a mother leaving for three years and then coming back. I certainly understand how the children must have felt, but Jesus Christ. Many many worse things have happened to kids. You didn't leave your children. All you did was reveal something you didn't know was kept hidden. Holy shit. As for the side of your fmily that abandoned you? Maybe that is good riddance. I'm so sorry you suffered, were made to suffer for this. I am glad you have put this to bed with your new book.
I completely agree with you, and maybe there is something terribly wrong with me, as well, Abigail. I feel good about our club! Write on Elissa, as the rest of us that have inherited the fear of abandonment. We write because we can’t not. I’m proposaling a tough one now. We must. Thank you.
A good writer tells the stories she needs to tell. A great writer tells those stories because we need them. You are a great writer, Elissa.
Elissa, I just want to bop that dream killing person on the head! Dream killers...I had one. He told me I was "Ordinary." It was a teacher, and for way too many years, I believed that assessment of me. And then, my world broke open and so did I. Between the sobs, I began to write, and out of it, came a book. And I hope he has come across that book and said to himself, "Well I'll be damned, I was wrong." But, whether he does, or not, I know that I am not now "Ordinary" nor have I ever been. I cannot wait to read your book and shall visit my favorite bookshop tomorrow and get it!
Years ago, after leaving a toxic spiritual teacher I'd been with for a decade, and losing community too, tears streamed when I first heard the quote -(and I've seen it attributed to both Rumi and Carl Jung) - "The genius hides behind the wound." I cried in the hope it might be true. It turned out to be so for me, and I'm in awe when I see this magic unfold in others. It happens slowly, and it takes a lot of work. Elissa, I bow to your beautiful manifestation of this alchemy -- staying with this horrible wound that happened to you in such a way that you've turned it into something that is medicine for so many others. I loved Permission. I loved Poor Man's Feast. I love every newsletter you send. (I have yet to read Motherland but will!) You're pouring medicine out for others with such generosity, and I'm so grateful. Thank you for your courage and dedication.
Thank you 🙏🏻
I've already read Permission twice since I bought at Woodstock Bookfest in April. It's brilliant, it's wrenching and it helped me make choices about how to proceed in my writing as it applies to the secrets and lies in my family that I was raised with. It's helped me free myself to write honestly about the relationships that damaged my mental health for far too many years. I've struggled from the brink many times, and have settle safely in the land of recovery. Your writing has been an inspiration to me for years, not just because of the things you say, but also because of the eloquence and elegance with which say them. Thank you, Elissa.
I’m full of admiration for you wading through the intergenerational quagmire and bringing your learnings together from the journey into Permission for all of us, I can’t wait to read it. Thank you.
Ironically, these gorgeous words felt like permission to retract the unsigned permission slips I've been doling out so that I can finally own the story that is already mine.
Elissa, I read this essay three times, this part in particular with a hand over my heart: "And still: my first instinct was to reach out and ask permission to publish the On Being essay from the person who had been responsible for trying to take it away. I was considering asking permission to write about permission from the person who had, three years earlier, sought to punish and silence me..."
Ohhh yes. Feeling this.
Another "whoa" of mine while reading: quite often the silencer sitting across from me with their Diet Coke and striped straw and plate of ugani is not another person at all but my own voice of ancient shame, clinging silently and invisibly. And perhaps, waiting patiently for me to give myself permission to face her.
”I remember their face when they told me I’d never write again, after which they blithely sipped their diet Coke through a striped straw.” A harrowing sentence that will stick with me. I know this is an essay — and a powerful one — about coming out the other side of experiences like this, but, ye gods. Casual cruelty and desire to undermine are shocking to encounter, even at a remove like this. It's not how we humans are meant to treat each other.
Will you please (🥰) reach out to events coordinator at Readers Books in Sonoma CA to ask if you may present your reading/book when you are in No California this coming September - her name is Rosie Parks - as a member of the Sonoma community I know you will be welcomed AND embraced
Oh I’m so glad you wrote this. My mom disowned me because she’s homophobic, and I’ve begun writing about how it impacted me. I’m listening to your audiobook and it’s already becoming my new crutch when I freeze up.
As you know, I am another who is supremely grateful that you wrote about this!
Just learned my estranged brother who died ten days ago allegedly did not respond to my care package and my reaching out upon learning of his illness because I’ve written and published an essay revealing the family secret. I don’t know if that’s true of him but just receiving such a message from a family member tells me enough. It’s complicated. I do not feel shame for doing so. That shame belongs to the secret keepers. Buying your book!
Wow! Now I have to read Permission. I have had so much anxiety and shame over writing and possibly publishing my story because I think I know how my family of origin will react (all entrenched members of the sect/cult I left). Writing on Substack has helped a lot, but I know they are not here and don't read what I write, so maybe that's a fool's approach.
It certainly wasn’t right for your family member to shame and ostracize you. All she saw was her own hurt and she couldn’t come close to perceiving how your grandmother’s abandonment affected your father and ultimately you. I too know well how family secrets carry collateral damage. Kudos to you for breaking that chain. I did as well and it was necessary, freeing and cathartic.
Wow Alissa i am not sure you remember me from days that I lived in Modiin and I rarely follow you due to lack of personal contact. I have never read Permission but this must be one of your best pieces written that I was priviliged to see today! Thank you for your clarity and honesty may you live content that you have a voice that others hear!
Hola muy bonito mensaje .lo disfrute mucho, Gracias por animarnos a crecer