Walking In Socks-an autobiography by janet vella
I find this to be the most appropriate moment to bring all my happenings to share and change lives. A silent way of speaking to my audience, letting them draw in as much strength and transformation as they so wish, from every word and event they can relate to. If all the sufferings that happened to me in my last years were to be used to change only one life, then my work is done.
There were two sides of me writing this book: the part of me that was open to the flow of expression with no inhibitions or voices, aiming to give away the minute details of each story; and the other part that wanted to cocoon and protect from spreading my life to the point of transparency. Voices arose; judging, mocking and deterring me away from the ultimate scope. Others that propelled me into one pointed focus.
Yes of course this is a tell all; but not because I just want to expose. It is that deep inner, innate knowing that a word or an event can ignite something in someone’s life, right when they need it. The realization that my experiences came to me for a reason, forced my pen to scribble. Most moments came to me because I simply but unconsciously asked for them. Others happened because I wasn’t switched on and needed a wake-up call. So with as many tiny memories, recalled and thought of, I write in full compassion of my instinctive ability to make a difference, through bold expression and interaction. I believe this life has given me the humble opportunity to meet any individual wherever they may be in their journey.
I spiral in stories that show the subtle reluctance that I had to move away from being in contact with my stagnant comfort zone into unsteadiness and total expansion. Transitioning from dark to light reflecting new steps, new dreams and even fluffier skies - this is my enchanted journey of transformation. It is my story related in backward motion of events starting from the very beautiful present moment to the tenderness of my childhood that was scattered with fleeting moments of joy drowned by lasting days of gloom.
Along the way of my physical and emotional recovery, I had to deal with the demons of my shattered soul, past karmas and wounds that were gaping open. The process of spiritual healing has changed the way I look at life, the way I choreograph my days and my steps, how I live and what I teach. Many times I found myself on the brink, being pulled back to safety with angelic forces, the kind that inject you with the determination to turn the most bitter lemons into the sweetest lemonade.
My story starts right here, right now at this very present breath. It is where I stand tall.
Writing backwards is due to a memory that has chosen to stray. The many things that I went through, perhaps, molded a protective wall to keep me guarded. I may have subconsciously chosen to block or forget certain events that tore my being to shreds.
During the writing of this book, there were days an event would jolt me up at night and I had to wake up and write in fear of totally disremembering details by morning.
This is a peak in my closet, a secret passageway to my journal, my stumbles and life on this plane. My parents, the child that I lost, the brokenness, the written aches, letters to those who destroyed, words from my diary, Yoga, Dance, deadly silence, death, suicide, motherhood, womanhood, love, fragility and life; one word, one event, one experience at a time, I share it all with the world.