Didn't See Most of It Coming

About fifteen years ago, I bought and loved Not Quite What I Was Planning: Six-Word Memoirs by Writers Famous and Obscure, edited by SMITH Magazine. The editors mentioned the legend of Ernest Hemingway, who, when challenged to write a story in six words, offered “For sale: baby shoes, never worn.” In 2006, SMITH Magazine adapted this challenge to memoir, and the result was the first of many books and a thriving website (www.sixwordmemoirs.com).

I find these six-word memoirs addictively fun, and periodically get lost in the sheer diversity of their creativity. Naturally, I had to attempt it myself, with a little twist. Following are my six-word memoirs within a memoir. Taken together, they tell the story of a part of my life, but each six-word sentence is also a story in itself. The challenge was endlessly engaging.

Never met a man like him.

The white knight appeared from nowhere.

Soulmates from the first endless date.

Love and attention at long last.

Who knew it was all false?

Mindless self-abandonment was swift and total.

The honeymoon was over within months.

Oh well. The elopement happened anyway.

Newlywed bliss disappeared in short order.

The frog boiled slowly but surely.

Recapturing the rapture was my quest.

Dreams died in tiny, unremarkable increments.

Loving my children brought partial healing.

Death by a thousand shallow cuts.

Trained not to touch by recoil.

My flaws were preached as gospel.

“You’re crazy” became a prophecy fulfilled.

Family and friends were the enemy.

Depression and negativity are highly contagious.

Endless giving was expected and ignored.

People pleasing became my invariable default.

Swallowing resentments is a poor diet.

Absolute contempt left me utterly broken.

Children learn quickly to imitate disrespect.

Fun mama became an empty husk.

Children know when promises are empty.

Toxic people don’t improve with age.

Waking up is hard to do.

The journey begins after startling awake.

Taking action was brave and foolish.

Begging or threats no longer worked.

Spreading false narratives didn’t work either.

Why keep trying? The game’s rigged.

This time was not like others.

The writing was on the wall.

Further manipulation would not yield results.

The level of malevolence was unforeseen.

The plan was vicious, total destruction.

The children’s hearts were collateral damage.

The opposite of love is indifference.

Only way to win: don’t play.

His rage annihilated everybody’s best interests.

Leaving did not solve the problem.

He was just the major symptom.

I was the quintessential unreliable narrator.

The ghosts of the past emerged.

My motto: look up and ahead.

Temporary refuge: shepherding an ill child.

My beloved son was now lost.

Hearts can splinter into miniscule shards.

Limping through life can go undetected.

Unsolicited advice is worth its price.

Misplaced trust leads to untold misery.

Finally got my ass to therapy.

Unearthing the past is brutal work.

Therapy is not for the impatient.

Intriguing stranger convinced me to try.

Grabbing that lifeline turned things around.

Sexual healing is an underrated concept.

Speaking my truth doesn’t mean abandonment.

The myths about me? All wrong.

For fabulous results, love without expectation.

Self-love is the only dependable source.

Patriarchal bullshit exacerbated my worst problems.

Letting go is heartbreaking and revolutionary.

It’s never too late to grow.

Greatest inspiration? My daughter, the warrior.

I’m in a relationship with myself.

Waking up alone is true freedom.

Gratitude is my life’s new scaffolding.

Miracles are always embedded in calamity.

The Universe knows what It’s doing.

Joy sneaks in when least expected.

Hope is often its own reward.

Writing about hell can save you.

***

Let’s talk! Any six-word memoirs you’d like to share? Bet you can’t write just one...