In November, I published the first volume of my memoirs. Called ‘Gullible Travels’, it is – by the very fact of being a memoir! – a hugely personal tale about the ten years I spent in Asia, married to the wrong men and desperate to become a mother.
Keen to avoid being labelled a ‘misery lit’ writer, I wove the back story of the sexual abuse I lived through into the book, rather than making it the focus. I thought that would make the subject easier for people to read and – crucially – I used a different font for the descriptions of abuse, so that people who didn’t want to read those parts could just skip over them.
A therapist who heard me speak at a conference on trauma a year and a half ago got in touch to say that, having read the book, she was recommending it to some of her clients, in an attempt to help them make sense of their own behaviour.
A woman in her early thirties emailed to let me know that she’d sat up until 2am to finish the book (on a school night!). For her, I’d written a book about maternal love. Another woman emailed to let me know that she had spent four years in therapy after her husband left her; and one line in Gullible Travels made more sense to her regarding her situation than all the things her therapist had said in that time. One reader emailed me from Australia to let me know that she was applauding me – she felt Gullible Travels was a testament to the strength of the human spirit. Many women have been in touch to disclose their own abuse, and to express the feeling that, finally, someone understands.
It’s not just women who are reading my book, of course. Men are contacting me to let me know that Gullible Travels has had an effect on them, too. Some are shocked at the behaviour of other men – and write, telling me of their resolve to be even more mindful of how they speak to, and treat, women. Others are relieved that they never treated a woman as badly as I have been treated by members of the opposite sex. One man wrote to thank me for helping him to understand a former girlfriend who had been sexually abused. He was planning on getting in touch with her – armed with this new understanding – to see if they could give it another go.
Every few days, I get a message via email or social media from a reader to let me know that they have read my book and how it has impacted them. Never having written a memoir before, I am astonished by how people are reacting to it. I thought I’d written one book, but it seems I’ve written several.