• Frankie Dawson

Who Am I, Why am I writing? Why do I want to write? (by Frankie Dawson)

Updated: Jun 25, 2019

When I lived in Puerto Rico a few years back, I decided to take a scuba diving class to go on a diving excursion with some friends.

The scuba equipment was very heavy. When I got in the water the equipment was lighter, but the pressure of the water made me uncomfortable. I could breathe, but it was awkward. And so we had been prepared and schooled for this but still it was an effort.

Such is my life. I’ve been prepared and schooled, but the pressure is inescapable. I keep thinking. After I get out from under this ..., things will be better, What is this that is causing me so much pressure? Who is this that is bent on my destruction? And why do the faces change, it’s the boss, no, it’s that rude cashier, no, it’s that obnoxious delivery boy…it’s my husband, sister, Oh God why can’t family e be close when going through this pressure? Why are you not there for me?

Why can’t I hit back...Why can’t I get a good punch in??

my home is wall papered with witty sayings and scriptures, but sometimes I don’t see them…they’re like tiny transparent grains of sand that is so fine, you can’t see it in the water, the sun is reflected off these tiny diamonds, but you glide right through it, indifferent to its shiny brilliance. Every once in a while, though, I stop and reflect,, the shine peers through…never, never, never give up!

Live the life you have imagined.

I figure if I write, I can I can deflate the bent up balloon of expression that would bless other people or at least get them to thinking why they are in this atmosphere, too. Please Lord, stop the headaches.


Let me get off. Or out or something. The water is cold, I have a diving suit on, it’s tight, I.m hot. I can hear every bubble loosed from the tank, there is a numbing hum sound that the water makes, I hear the waves hitting against the boat.


That’s why I can’t stay home. I hear the deafening electricity running through the walls. The clock on the wall ticks loud. I hear the faint sound of rubber tires rolling over the pavement, I can tell if it’s a truck or car by the magnitude of the pressure on the pavement, Right now I hear distant intermittent thunder. Oh God how am I going to write with al this going on?


What’s Going On? Says Marvin Gaye. Tell me what’s going on?

Did I miss my calling some where? Was I suppose to be something else? A singer, a dancer, a writer?


Did you put me here, God. Did you manipulate things so I winded up right where I am? Is this my fate? Then why can’t I PRESS through this resistant water and write what I am supposed to. Is it me, sabotaging myself, other people bringing me down, the devil, spirits? Why can’t I get out of this maze of mind pressure? Help me Lord!


Oh yes I’m willing to get a book out, many books…just help me get started, no I’ve already started…I have written many books in my head.


For over thirty years I dodged the prison ministry I am now in. The smell of the spilled food on the floor, the hot atmosphere, the uncomfortable steel stools, the women giving me silent signals of disapproval by exposing the upper crack of their butts. The guards yelling’ It’s getting too loud. But there’s always that one soul needing “feeding” Jesus told Peter to feed his lambs, That’s why I can’t stop going, I feed but I am being fed,

Oh yes I see myself being interviewed by Oprah for the number 1 Best Seller On the New York Times List, Why do I want so badly to be recognized? Why do I want to be in the lime light but for years dodging it like a hot poker? Oh Jesus, help me, is this what double-mind-ness feels like?

I want to write damn it, let me write, let me write…

Now I know...I know, now. I had to get my mind renewed. I have to figure out why I was going through so much.


I'm a trail blazer. I thought I was stuck, but it is "post trail depression" You finished a long distance journey, you remember the painful times more than the good times, you think it was your fault...but now you know, Thanks to present situations, snares along the trail, memories come back. It was not your fault. It was not you! You have been on the right trail all along. This is your destiny...keep putting one foot before the other. I don't have to see the end of the trail.


Fuck the faces along the way; one step at a time, girl, you ain't finished. You have just begun...

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