I have been on a blogging siesta. It is summer, after all. There have been other reasons; I have been feeling awful lately – just awful. Poor Jeff is tired of hearing me complain recently that I "feel like I am dying." I have not blogged about it because who wants to read about how I feel like my head is stuffed with cotton and my body is full of lead? How, on weekends, I can sleep for fourteen hours straight and still feel like I have pulled two all-nighters in a row. How I agreed to help my friend out and babysit her one and three-year children and then, in the middle of the day, called my husband at work – sobbing – because I felt like I could not physically keep up with them and was SO MAD at that moment at my ridiculous body, my ridiculous brain, my ridiculous diagnosis.
The second reason stems from an issue more complex. When I started this blog, I did not set "rules" about what I would and would not post. I was strictly in survival mode. I had just been handed a life-altering diagnosis and I had two simple goals: 1) keep family and friends updated because I knew I was in for a roller coaster ride and 2) venting. I had a lot to vent about. I still do. I did not think through the potential implications of posting about family or friends or intimate details or sex or whatever. I just did not. Going forward I feel like I have an obligation to pause and reflect on what I say.
A recent post caused great upheaval in a relationship that was already, at best, fractured. I will not get into messy details (though I would LOVE to) out of respect for certain persons involved. Those in my "real life" know what has transpired and why because we have discussed BlogGate 2008 and the fallout ad nauseam. While I do wish that certain relationships were and could be different, they are not. So I have thrown up my hands and cut my losses. I do not need (extra) negativity in my life at this time (ever?). It is difficult to accept that there are some people who will never treat you the way you wish they would. On the flipside, there are those that will treat you 200% better than you ever expect them to. With my new "life is short" mantra, I prefer to focus on those relationships.
As a result of this tsunami, I debated removing my past blogs. I debated password protecting my posts. I debated stopping blogging altogether. After some serious internal wrestling, I have decided to do none of those things. Here is why:
Blogging is great therapy. I like to write. I enjoy the creative process of sitting down with my computer and committing my thoughts to print. Legal writing is not the same as personal disclosure and analysis.
The sense of community is amazing. It is wonderful to hear from people I have not spoken with in years – people that are thinking about me, praying for me, cheering for me. Thank you, all – your messages make it easier to get through the tough days.
My son. I may need some Kleenex by the time I am done this part. Assuming worst case scenario, I worry about my son. My husband; he'll be ok. He has had ten plus years - and counting - to enjoy (?) me and all my neuroses and personality and company. He'll be just fine ... but my son. My son?
I worry about death. It just seems so – I don't know – final. To be more precise, it is not death per se that I worry about. I worry about the process of death. All the inevitable losses - the loss of independence, the loss of communication, the loss of self. I worry that my son's last thoughts of me might be in this state of decline. I worry that he may never know me as a real person. I worry about my legacy. I want him to know about me. I want a record of my thoughts, my jokes, how much I loved him. Are you crying yet? I am.
So I will BLOG! I will BLOG for me! For the First Amendment! For women with brain tumors and overpriced shoe shopping addictions, EVERYWHERE! I will persevere.
Parting thought: If you do not like it, then stop reading it.
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