Listen to Your Mother!

So here's the deal, I did something I am pretty proud of. I had the privilege of being a part of Charleston's Listen To Your Mother! cast. What is LTYM? It's a live reading by local writers on the beauty, best and barely-rested tales of motherhood, in celebration of Mother's Day. It occurs in cities all over the country and they just published their first book of writings if you care to share these powerful stories with someone you love (hint, hint- mother's day gift!)

I auditioned for the cast on a whim. My always empowering (and insanely talented) writing partner, Laura, sent me the call for auditions two days before they were set to take place. "You have to do this!" she exclaimed. I think my response was, "GULP."

The guidelines read as follows: 

It should be about 5 minutes when read aloud. It should be a personal narrative. It should be, primarily, about motherhood or mothers or mothering.

That was it. Pretty opened ended, right? "Just start writing it, Erin!" Laura urged. "You already have it in your head!" 

So I churned out my emotions on motherhood and spent a good majority of the night prior to the auditions forcing my husband to listen to me read my piece, revision after revision, into a hairbrush as I stood on a makeshift stage, aka the coffee table in our living room. Two weeks later I was elated to find out I made the cut. Now to share my story with hundreds in person and the world on the internet...again, "GULP."

Thankfully we had some good practice. In fact, the practice may have been my favorite part. Our first meeting was a round table reading. All of a sudden I became acutely aware that I was surrounded by a group of people that I would have never met had it not been for this very experience. No matter how different we all were, we were connected by the bloodline of resonating, one way or another, with the theme of "motherhood." (Tweet it.) As I listened to each person share his or her writing, I could feel my soul settle with humility like silt under a foundation. No matter how heavy my story with my mother weighed on me, the stranger sitting next to me was grappling with a much more egregious load to bare. I couldn't fathom that they could really be carrying the weight of these experiences around with them and still be able to function? 

Not all stories were sad, in fact many broke us all into hysterics.

                                    The cast that laughs together stays together.

And then it was my turn to share my story. I stood in front of the strangers and watched them weep as I spilled my words. Within my five minutes these acquaintances became my covenant, and in a way this small group knew me better than some colleagues I've known for years. As my eyes rose from the page I met their gaze and internalized their heads nodding in understanding. 

These were my people.

Before we knew it the big day was upon us! Over 300 people came to the Charleston City Music Hall to hear our stories. We had a little time to kid around before the show:

                                                                               Cheese!

But aside from the initial laughs, the general consensus back stage was one of nervousness and anticipation. These were our stories; our experiences carved on our hearts in the letters, "M.O.M." These had never been shared in a public forum. We were trusting this audience to handle our most intimate experiences with care while we offer them up like baby lambs at a podium. 

                                        A view of the podium during dress rehearsal. 

I was third in the lineup. If I was playing softball that meant my coach thought I was a strong hitter, but my doubts lingered in my head making me question my validity to belong on the stage. 

But more than anything, my mother urged me to speak. I had to tell this story. Her voice ended prematurely and too often the survivors of suicide feel ashamed to share their stories of losing their loved ones, as if suicide somehow categorizes us to feel a  "less than" loss that doesn't deserve to be grieved publicly. So we mourn our mothers in the shadows. The truth is that there is a subset of people in this world that don't understand the valiant effort and struggle to stay alive that happens before someone takes their own life. (Tweet it.) In my opinion it is just gallant as a cancerous battle. 

I am proud to share my small contribution to this cause with you. If you have anyone in your life that may need to hear it, please share. 

Erin Dudley talks about losing her mom to suicide and what she learned years later, when she discovered a trunk full of her mom's handwritten journals. LTYM: Charleston ● 5/3/15 ● Charleston Music Hall http://listentoyourmothershow.com/charleston/

But I also encourage you to listen to all the heartfelt stories shared on that stage. Every one of them left a marking on my heart. I know you will feel the same. Because after all, can you think of a more universal theme to bring us together aside from "Motherhood?" 

"