First let me say that the last couple of days, maybe even the last couple of weeks have been down right hellish, and I have made quite a spectacle on Facebook. But you should really see the spectacle I have made in my real life. I wonder what the neighbors think when they see me running around like a mad woman or hear me screaming and wailing in my back yard. Facebook gets off easy.
As a writer, as an artist, as a human being I have been met with challenges. Whether it is dealing with writers block, trying to figure out choreography, or how to make the vision I have in my head become a reality in a piece of art, or just how to figure out how I can keep putting one foot in front of another in order to finish a long distance race... I have always been able to meet the challenges. So why then, do I feel as though meeting the request (which is not really unreasonable) of someone I love to be excruciatingly painful and feel it is near impossible. Why do I feel like granting this request feels as though it is censoring my feelings. Why do I feel as though I am a 3 year old child having its favorite toy being ripped away and then throwing a huge temper tantrum? Why can't I meet this challenge gracefully, elegantly and peacefully?
Here is what I know. Grief is selfish. Grief is hell. Grief can have a very special way at tearing apart a family. I'm not talking about just my immediate family. I have watched it tear apart many families over my life time. I have seen siblings tear each other apart. I have seen good marriages crumble to the ground. I have seen best friends turn on each other after the death of one of their peers. Why? Because when people hurt, they look for ways to express it and sometimes they choose to take it out on those that they love.
When one of the women in my close knit social circle died from brain cancer, I was also dealing with my own Dissociative Identity Disorder from something completely unrelated. We were part of a very close knit circle of friends. But we all seemed to rally around this friend when she was dieing. We sat by her bedside in her bedroom in her home. We sat around the kitchen table with her kids and her husband and laughed and drank and just kept everyone company. We had the 4th of July party in her back yard, with her in her bed dieing...because that is what she would have wanted... she loved the 4th of July and always had a party there where everyone could watch the fireworks from her back yard. But once she died, anger took hold and ripped apart our circle. Or more specifically, I was a target for someone's anger.
My therapist, at the time, warned me. "Martha, when there is a group like that, there is going to be someone who becomes the focal point for the anger that they feel for the loss of the loved one. Just be prepared." I thought, "nah, that won't happen." But sure enough, it did. And it was directed right at me. I not only lost my friend who died, but I also lost my social circle.. my support group.. not just for grief for but real life. And it happened at a time, when I was in emotional need to begin with. I never felt so alone..... until now.
I realize I am not perfect. I realize that I over share. I realize that when I think I am talking about my own life (which happens to include other people..cause I'm not a hermit) that other people are mentioned in my blog and what I have said has hurt people that I love. I am sorry that I hurt them. It was never my goal to hurt anyone from my blog posts.
I have been called disrespectful. I have been likened to a Psycho Bitch. I have been asked to completely rethink the way I write my blogs and the words I choose. I am doing my very best to wrap my head around this. I saw this great quote today..."From the outside looking in, you can never understand. From the inside looking out, I can never explain." That is what I feel about what I write in my blogs. My blogs are very personal to me and never directed at anyone. They are about my own experiences and how I feel about those experiences. When I have tried to protect people from my blog, other readers of my blog have gone to people mentioned in my blog and stirred up shit with them.. when they would have never known it was there (unless someone brought it to their attention). I have never meant to trash talk anyone, but rather express my feelings about things that have happened. I realize now that no matter what my intentions were, other people perceive them differently and my words hurt people. And I'm sorry for that.
I have considered starting a new blog all together, but the idea of separating my grief part of my blog from my real life felt like a part of me was being cut off. I felt like creating a new blog under fictitious names was not being authentic, and if there is one thing important to the grief process of healing, it is being authentic to yourself and with your feelings. I felt like I couldn't talk about my son Nick by his name and that hurt more than anything.
All in all, I feel like no one understands how important this blog is to me. No one understands how important it is to me to be authentic. No one understands how censoring myself hurts. Yet, at the same time, I am expected to understand how my words can and have hurt people so I must change.
This is me. My writing is an extension of me. But I will do what is best. I will look at this as a challenge to become a better writer.. to find better words... to think and re-think what I write.
I will do my best to let go of resentment of people who read my blogs and stir up trouble (even if they didn't mean to). I will do my best to let go of resentment I have in regards to how this is affecting my relationship with my husband.
The only safe way to express all of my thoughts is to keep it private, but I am not a private person. The only safe way for me to express all of my thoughts is to hand write it in a journal, but nothing I write is legible thanks to my TBI. But here's the deal. I don't write just for me. I write because I have people tell me that what I write helps them understand or deal with their own grief. I write because what I put out there provides value to other people. My pain provides value.
There is that saying, "You have freedom of speech, but you are not free from the consequences from using that freedom." So, here I am suffering the consequences of using my free speech. And it is the love that I have for my family that now challenges me to be a better person.. to be a better writer.. to find a safer way to express my feelings.
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