I’m so mad at myself right now.
See, I was at Blissdom this past weekend. In case you forgot or something.
In a word, it was amazing. Inspiring, life-affirming, heart-expanding, and generally awesome all around.
I didn’t take a single picture of any of the people I was there with.
There’s a photo of me and Frelle. And I posed with several gorgeous ladies against a brick wall on Thursday night.
I hate myself.
But that’s not the point of this post. Not entirely, anyway.
See, while I attended some wonderful and informative sessions, there was one which really stuck out for me. The session was led by Jeff Goins.
Now, Jeff, I’m gonna level with you here and I hope you don’t think less of me for it. I took one look at you and thought “This kid is leading a session?”. Because you’ve been blessed with a youthful countenance and, well, I don’t always associate youth with wisdom.
As is often the case, I was wrong. Because you rocked my world. In a “we made no physical contact whatsoever so my husband can stop thinking bad thoughts right this very minute” sort of way.
See, my friends, something happens when your heart hears the words it’s been whispering to you for so long coming out of someone else’s mouth.
Of course, much like everything in life, what I heard and later read on the worksheet was colored by my own experience.
For two years I’ve been wanting to write about my feelings surrounding the title “caregiver”. I’ve started and stopped more posts than I can count. I wrote the first chapter of a book. I even started up a whole new anonymous blog about a year ago, in an attempt to share some of the mess that lives in my head.
It’s more than that, though. More than getting it out of my head and onto the internet or into a Word doc.
It’s the nagging suspicion that our story could help somebody else. After all, it’s rare that two newlyweds in their early 30′s are called upon to drastically change their lives because a parent becomes ill.
Or is it so rare? See, how do we know until someone shares with us?
But there was the other nagging question of whether people would still like me or want to continue reading my blog if they knew how much I don’t even like myself sometimes. The bitterness I sometimes feel, the sadness and resentment that rises to the surface.
It ain’t pretty.
So after I burst into tears at a table full of strangers (who were beyond sweet and understanding, and I am so grateful), I struggled to get my emotions in check. Just as I stopped crying, the girl to my right touched my arm.
Hers is not my story to tell, but suffice it to say that her story is similar to mine. She told me that by sharing my experience, I helped her realize something about herself.
Whoa. Hold the phone, kids.
That cemented it. It was a done deal from that moment on.
I need to share this, even if it’s not always pretty and smiley and made of chocolate like so many things on my blog are.
I need to open up. It might help someone else do the same.
This situation could be turned into a blessing, an opportunity to reach out and connect with other people in our shoes. We might not be so unique after all.
There could be someone out there, wondering what it would have been like to shop for her own home, missing the days of alone time and last-minute plans. Someone just like me.
But one of us has to get the ball rolling if we’re ever going to find each other.
So thanks, Jeff, for proving me wrong. You rock, by the way.
Have you ever wanted to write about something but felt like you needed to censor yourself? What’s the worst you think could happen if you opened up?