Memoir

/ˈmemˌwär/ noun. a record of events written by a person having intimate knowledge of them and based on personal observation. Usually memoirs. an account of one's personal life and experiences; autobiography. the published record of the proceedings of a group or organization, as of a learned society.

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We’re down to the wire now. There are only two more #memoirmonday prompts after this one. If you’ve been awake in this world long enough it’s easy to surmise that the universe provides us with signs. These signs usually start off as little sparks of synchronicity but if we don’t take notice of them become decidedly less subtle, more like lightning bolts. What signs have you ignored?

Memoir Monday has grown so much that I won’t be able to comment on everyone’s posts anymore (and get my own work done) but I’ll still be supporting your posts with reblogs, votes, and, occasionally, shares on my other social media accounts (X, Facebook, etc.).

For all of those who’ve regularly participated in Memoir Monday - keep going, you’re making great progress in chronicling your very own life story for future generations to enjoy.

For those who missed the inaugural post explaining what the Memoir Monday initiative is all about you can find it here.

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Now for next week’s Memoir Monday prompt:

What Sign(s) from the Universe Did You Totally Ignore at First? How did you finally “get the message”?

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My answer:

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One particular life event immediately came to mind when I sat down to write about this prompt. It was the culmination of years of gut feelings and growing discontent, finally reaching a turning point in 1992 when I was twenty-one years old.

At that stage of my life, I was young enough to believe I had all the time in the world to figure things out. I loved to draw and write and had a vague notion that I wanted a career in something creative, but I had no clue how to make it happen. My future felt blurry at best, and a nagging sense of dissatisfaction and frustration was beginning to take hold.

I had graduated high school the year before and was working full-time in a warehouse, heaving eighty-pound boxes all day. At night, I took a class or two per semester on the architectural engineering track, but I was slowly realizing that advanced math wasn’t exactly my calling. A dull restlessness settled in—I knew I wanted more, but I had no idea what more even looked like.

On weekends, I went out drinking with my old high school friends, most of whom had even less direction than I did. They seemed perfectly content to live in a loop—same bars, same bands, same conversations, and the same routines. I, on the other hand, was growing out of it. What once felt like fun now felt like stagnation. But still, out of habit more than enjoyment, I kept going.

One of my friends had a habit of looking for trouble when he drank. After a few rounds, he’d start instigating fights, breaking things, generally making bad decisions. Most of the time, we walked away without consequences. Until we didn’t.

One night, on our usual drunken ride home, we were pulled over and arrested. Because it was a holiday weekend, we had the pleasure of spending a couple of days in jail before being released. The judge sentenced us to a small fine and community service—a light punishment, considering how much worse it could have been.

Sitting in that jail cell, with nothing but time and a pounding headache, I had a moment of absolute clarity. I realized just how miserable I’d been, how lost and embarrassed I felt, and how much I wanted a life completely different from the one I was drifting into. I didn’t want to just live and learn—I wanted to learn and live.

After that weekend, everything sped up. I met an English professor in college who saw something in my work and encouraged me to pursue writing. I took a leap and moved across the country to Minnesota, partly to chase a new future and partly to put distance between me and my past. Looking back across my previous thirty years as a writer I couldn’t be more grateful and understand this was my intended path.

Those couple of nights in jail weren’t just a wake-up call—it was a turning point. And looking back, I’m very appreciative for that message from the universe. This particular lesson taught me to listen more closely to those nagging feelings before they morph into those, much harsher, life-changing events.

~Eric Vance Walton~

(Gif sourced from Giphy.com)

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