Who I Am Becoming: Writing Through the In-Between: By Desiree Pearl

I look behind me and I see young me sitting in the dark. She is hanging her head in defeat, surrounded by complete darkness with no direction, no purpose, no guidance, no lantern to light her way. I have since escaped that pitch-black void and I reside within the shadows, the gray area, as I search for the light, the person I will eventually become. Welcome to the In-Between. It is an uncomfortable space between who I was and who I am becoming, the dark void and the light. I am continuing my journey through the shadows. I walk in circles, stuck in this vast expanse of anxiety and uncertainty. It is a space that many people experience but it often remains unspoken. Whilst meandering haphazardly through the fog, writing is the lantern casting a soft glow upon the path ahead.

Each uncomfortable land of shadows is different from the next. It varies not only from person to person, but can also vary within the same individual as they journey through life. However, there are certain themes that are common. My In-Between is a place where I am chased by many demons. Uncertainty about my present and future pursues me until my legs are sore, I am out of breath, and I feel incapable of moving forward. Once uncertainty is satisfied with the anxiety it produced, it passes the torture-baton to grief. Grief reminds me of all the losses I have suffered during my life. It reminds me that losses are not limited to the people that I have been forced to say good-bye to, but countless other losses I’ve endured. It hangs the childhood I never had in front of me, reminding me of all the carefree laughter I never experienced. It sings me a song about the comfort I once had that was forcefully yanked from my weary hands. Once grief grows bored of me, identity moves to the forefront. It shrieks with laughter while it asks me who I am. The cackling intensifies as it questions me about who I was and who I am going to become. I hang my head following the harassment from the shadows and look at my feet as I trudge on.

There is a tool that helps to light my way through the shadows. Creativity appears when the shadows of uncertainty are at their peak. It blossoms as the certainty dissolves. My debut book, Trash, as well as the other pieces that are in progress have emerged from the cracks. They have been brought to light while I stumbled aimlessly through the fog that exists between who I used to be and who I don’t recognize yet. Writing and creating allows me to personify the emotions that I am unable to identify and label. It is through these creations that a soft glow falls upon my path and guides my steps through the dark towards the person that I will one day be.

However, becoming is rarely linear. It is not a straight path between the “before” and the “after,” from the shadows to the light. It is in the process of becoming that the shadows circle and dance around the individual. They taunt and tease in the dark before they inevitably dissipate. Their dissolution comes not from a singular event. It is less of a dramatic rebirth and more of an unraveling. The ribbon unravels bit by bit, revealing the unfamiliar individual beneath the fabric. As the ribbon dances through the air, it frequently becomes tangled around itself, forcing the individual to muster more energy and determination to combat the new knots and tangles they face.

For me, writing is more than just putting pretty words on a page. It is the thread that holds me together. It is my way to light the path in front of me that leads me from the mist towards the sun. It aids me in understanding the ambiguity and uncertainty of the shift that I am experiencing. Putting words on the page, crafting them, creating them, molding them, and breathing life into the beautiful creature they will inevitably become steadies my quivering hands as the chaos ensues and the frenzied world spins around me. It leads me on the path to self-discovery as I write through my transformation through excavation, confrontation, and release. As my unruly thoughts appear gracefully inked on the page through the gliding of the pen, I find myself uncovering events and emotions that have been repressed and buried. Once they are unearthed, I have the ability to confront them, reflect upon them, define them, and clarify the obscurity surrounding their entombing. Each piece penned brings a certain release with it. The situations and sentiments evoked can break from their tether and fly from the captivity of my mind. Once they are liberated, their unoccupied spot leaves room for new suppressed sources of affliction to come to surface. Thus, the cycle begins again. What must be remembered, understood, and appreciated is that writing is not a solution. It is a companion. Though I may be holding the pen in my hand, it is writing that holds my hand as I search for the light and stumble through the darkness.

There are versions of yourself that travel with you. As we discover our new selves, we do not simply shed the previous skin and discard it with the rubbish. They continue to live with us. We carry them on our backs throughout the journey. However, over time, their weight lessens through healing. Each version of ourselves coexist. The “before,” “during,” and “after” remain and whisper their words and warnings to us. They each have something unique to teach us. We must be willing to listen. Writing helps me navigate those different versions instead of rejecting them and retraumatizing myself through dwelling on the negative versions that may have existed. It is through crafting compositions, regardless of length, subject, or virtuosity that I embrace each one, reflect upon them, and heed the lessons they are instilling and edifying.

My manuscripts carry stark dualities within them. The light that emerges after dark. The vulnerability that is sharpened into strength. Being haunted and being healed. It demonstrates my journey through the In-Between, my transformation into a person who can hold both the darkness and the light, the vile and the charming. It is through telling my story, through recognizing and acknowledging my truth that I have been able to evolve. It involves intention, a cognizant and deliberate effort. The process is rarely comfortable. I am painstakingly rediscovering my identity beyond what happened to me, what I am working towards, and where I want to go. The transition has not had smooth, clean, pristine edges. The progression has been sharp and jagged with the ability to slash, tear, and draw blood. However, it is raw and honest. My work, my unfiltered pages of written pandemonium, are part of my transformation, not separate from it. The horror. The crudity. The macabre. Though my pieces may be fictional, they are all based in truth, in some experience or emotion that I have endured or witnessed. Thus, they are enlightening. When I reread them, they allow me to reflect. They teach me about myself in a profound way.

It is a cumbersome and frightening process, but I invite you to your personal In-Between. If you are in a state of surviving perpetual purgatory, suspended between identities, chapters, or emotional states, I encourage you to explore the shadows. You will not enter a world of cozy clouds and fuzzy blankets. Instead, you will plunge into a land of unseen terrors, silent screams, and goosebumps. This is the ordinary discomfort of working on yourself and discovering your identity. However, this is where the clarity begins. This is where one’s eyes begin to open, where self-discovery commences. The process occurs quietly, slowly, and almost imperceptibly. It is so subtle and gradual that it is almost impalpable, veiled, or ethereal. Writing serves as my compass through the fog. Nonetheless, any form of creativity that speaks to one’s soul has the same invocative capability. Whether you are writing, speaking, or creating art in any form, the process is both cathartic and insightful. The end result will teach you about yourself and inevitably bring you closer to your goal.

Becoming is a process. It is cyclical, persistent, ever evolving. There is no final version of perfection. There is only continued progression, development, and emergence. It is a continuous process, not a singular event. I am constantly learning to exist in the space between what was lost and what is rising from the ashes and emerging from the shadows. Writing is not only my bridge, but also my map and my mirror. I am stepping forward through the In-Between not fully formed, but more aware. I am continuing my journey towards the daylight sauntering hand in hand with my notebook as my blinders slowly dissipate and a lucid path materializes.

Desiree Pearl- Author