Smiling Keeps Me Sane
Sigh ... this post has been circulating around in my mind for a long time.
As a blogger, I sometimes grapple with how much of my personal life I should share with my readers, especially if the subject matter is heavy, sad, or unpleasant. Even though readers complain about bloggers being not real enough, when bloggers do choose to share something personal or close to their hearts they receive just as much backlash for keeping it too real. So, I feel that most times bloggers can never win, it is a catch-22. Readers want you to keep it real enough for them to relate to you but not real enough that it forces them to face uncomfortable truths and situations. So, what is a blogger to do?
As a blogger, I sometimes grapple with how much of my personal life I should share with my readers, especially if the subject matter is heavy, sad, or unpleasant. Even though readers complain about bloggers being not real enough, when bloggers do choose to share something personal or close to their hearts they receive just as much backlash for keeping it too real. So, I feel that most times bloggers can never win, it is a catch-22. Readers want you to keep it real enough for them to relate to you but not real enough that it forces them to face uncomfortable truths and situations. So, what is a blogger to do?
At the end of the day, you can only be true to yourself, even if it makes others uncomfortable. So, for me, that means sharing some painful memories that have shaped the woman I am today.
For almost 18 years I have despised this time of year. I know "despised" is a strong word, but in my case, it is an accurate description. More specifically I loathe Easter and the weeks leading up to it and the weeks immediately following it. Why? When I was twenty years old I gave birth to my only child, a beautiful and charismatic baby boy. He entered my life on April 12th and changed my life forever. He made me feel a depth of emotion that I didn't even know was possible, and as cliche, as it may sound I finally understood what unconditional love was. Unfortunately, our time together was short lived. Two weeks before his third birthday he died in a car accident with his father, grandmother, and aunt, on March 29th, which happened to fall on Good Friday that year. They had decided to take a road trip to visit another relative, and I stayed home because of work and to make preparations for his third birthday party that was supposed to be held in a couple of weeks. They were on the highway headed toward their destination when traffic came to a complete standstill because of construction. A semi truck driver for some reason did not see the miles of traffic in front of him not moving and slammed into the back of their car at full speed without breaking and killed them all instantly. I never found out why the truck driver never stopped. Did he fall asleep at the wheel? Was he under the influence? Because of shoddy police work they never gave him an alcohol or drug test, so, I will never know what the contributing factors were. Those unanswered questions still haunt me to this day. Unfortunately, I ended up burying my son on his birthday the day I was supposed to be celebrating his life. To say the least, I was devastated, shattered, and ever since then, I have been a shell of my former self.
In my experience with dealing with a loss of a child, that pain never goes away or subsides. It will stay with me until the day I die. The loss of any loved one can seem too hard to bear, but it is especially hard when that loved one is a child because it goes against the nature of things. As a parent, we always assume that our children will end up burying us, so, it is hard to grapple with it when it is the other way around. It made me question everything that I thought I knew about life, and at a very early age, it taught me a hard truth, that no matter how much we try to plan and control our lives sh*t happens. Over the years I have had my ups and downs with regards to my grief. Some days are better than others. Sometimes I can go weeks without it being the first thing I think about when I wake up and the last thing I think about before I go to sleep. Other days, the pain is so intensely crippling as if it had happened yesterday. I used to think something was wrong with me, but after years of researching grief and how it affects people, I realize that my reactions are normal. Everyone grieves in their own way, so, I never judge anyone and how they choose to handle it to cope.
One of the ways I have managed to cope is searching out things that will make me laugh because internally my heart is always crying. Laughing and sharing in moments that put a smile on my face momentarily relieves the pain of my scarred heart and stress that I carry around with me every day. I have a naughty sense of humor at times, and the more inappropriate the joke the harder it makes me laugh, and I cherish those moments. Even if it is just for a moment, it brings me a bit of joy and it keeps me sane in this crazy and chaotic world.
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