My name is Sonvy. Yes, it’s a Norwegian name, bequeathed by my Norwegian parents–one an immigrant and the other the daughter of one. As an ACoA (adult child of an alcoholic), I have done serious study and writing about this sad condition that afflicts so many others. I am a writer who believes everything that happens to you (both good and bad) in life teaches you something important if you are open to it. Many people have come into my life, and I believe each has had a part in making me who I am–there’s a reason our paths have crossed.
I am a musician (alto, piano and guitar teacher); quilter and seamstress; writer; wife of love of my life and favorite artist, Richard; mom; grand mom; and lover of animals, especially my fur babies Nellie Belle and Miss Monet. Writing has always been a love (indeed, a need) of mine as a way to connect with the world in which I live. Growing up on a farm with three brothers (one, my twin) and a neighborhood of boys, extended family far away, and no church or civic community, social isolation was significant. Opportunities to talk with real persons were limited.
Added to my childhood picture was time in foster homes, an alcoholic father, and a mother with a tuberculosis relapse. Mom, who kept a journal faithfully for over fifty years and wrote numerous stories and poems, gave me my first diary when I was eight. This little red book with a brass lock and key got me started writing. When Dad’s alcoholism took over three years later, a pall of silence, shame, violence, and fear took over our home. I started letter writing, to cousins and a German pen pal with whom I corresponded faithfully for over ten years until I graduated from college and married. Writing was my salvation. It helped me grow up sane. Writing continues to keep me sane.
I am blogging to learn to write better and to take in what good things other bloggers have to teach me. My naturally reserved, reflective nature (common Norwegian traits) has made me hesitate to jump in with both feet (in this case, both hands) :). Writing is an important means of communication for me, and I probably would have blogged long ago if it had been a possibility. Now is the time.
My mother and mentor is gone now, but she left dozens of filled-up journals that still can speak to me of her thoughts, dreams, and burdens. Through this treasure chest of her writings, she is with me always. That is the power of writing. I want to gift my daughters and grandchildren with her stories as well as mine. So my writing continues as I hope to eventually complete my memoir–a missive of healing and survival, a testimonial to those who may see their story in mine and have hope.
Grateful for life-giving years as a former teacher and pastoral minister/liturgist/music director, I continue to write and give thanks for my journey toward wholeness. I count each day as treasure.