Somewhere over the last month, I kind of felt like I was losing my voice on this blog, which is usually symptomatic of my own life and choices. A few rough weeks of feeling not physically up to par, a couple of dr's throwing out the word "MS", a long few hours in an MRI tube getting scans of my brain- and well, whatever footing I felt that I had gained over the last few years, felt like it was withering away. This merged with a week of vacation with family, which always stirs homesickness in me.
I have also become increasingly self conscious about my words, my stories. I really see myself as a writer, and so my words may often lean into metaphors and melancholy, or sarcasm, or overly pious. I blame the writer in me. The need for words to be more than words, to somehow wrangle some truth out of them, as I toss them out on the page. Maybe, just maybe, one word will make something clear again. for me, anyway.
I have taken a risk by letting perfect strangers, family, and dearest friends into my head, on this blog. This worries some, comforts others. I know, because you have told me so.
Anne Lamott says,
“You own everything that happened to you. Tell your stories. If people wanted you to write warmly about them, they should’ve behaved better.”
I think about these words a lot, because writing doesn't always mean making friends. But I have to balance that with the fact that I actually love my friends and my family and even my strangers.
Trying to make everyone comfortable with my words is wearisome and a challenge.
I think writers probably always struggle with this. The better ones, probably less. because they know that writing is risk taking. Telling stories is messy, just like the real life that we live. It's also beautiful, and love and redemption almost always peek through, and I think that's why we keep reading them. and for me, writing them.
I'm going to keep telling my stories here. Because this space has kept me sane.
My husband recently told my Dad that I was someone comfortable with sadness, and that this has been a way to bringing people into my life.
I am comfortable with sadness, but not in a glim way. Hopefully, I pray, in a real way.
I also want to be more comfortable with joy. and peace. These emotions are harder to access for me, but they are there, and I know the benefit of living in those spaces, too. I know, because I have sat in the presence of many of you who are gifted with such presence.
That's all for now. Summer is hot and busy for us. The kids have been sick and I just made sweet tea. I am reading a great book, and I do not have MS.
It's all good people. It's all good and hard and happy and sad.
hugs.
brooke
