a clean, well-lighted place.
One of the strangest things about my blogging experience is the fact that my close friends and family members seem to be learning about me from what they read here.
The internet can assume it knows all or knows nothing about who I actually am and what I go through, but I’m consistently surprised by what the people who actually know me… well, didn’t know.
How did I miss telling you about that? How did I manage to keep that to myself?
Wasn’t all of it obvious? Couldn’t you read that on my face?
No.
I can never figure out if my reticence is a quirk of the introverted side of my character, or a function of bad relationship scars I’ve sustained over the years. And the latter always makes me roll my eyes at myself. Letting your scars define you always sounds so self-indulgent and Garbo-esque.
But there it is.
Once burned, twice shy, I guess?
I think my struggle with infertility has made this strange disconnect more obvious to me in the last year. I’ll get emails or phone calls from people I talk to regularly saying, “I had no idea you were having such a hard time with that, ” or “Why didn’t you tell me that was so difficult for you?” after reading one of my entries.
And I don’t know what to say to that. How would I bring it up in conversation? How would I talk about it without being a downer? How do you dredge topics up in conversation when what you’re going through is in direct opposition to the experiences of the other person… and might make them feel strange? How do you communicate something hard and not feel the need to rush in and say, “But I’m fine, I’m fine. I swear, I’m fine.”
It’s the most awkward topic in the universe to me at times, too, because it combines the utter weirdness of speaking about one’s girl parts with the idea of grieving. Grieving girl parts.
Yeah. Not something that usually goes nicely with a latte, especially when the other person is bouncing a baby on their knee.
Or is, you know… a guy. Who has no girl parts.
Here, I can flesh things out and clear my head and say everything that needs to be said right then, and no one presses me for more or wonders later about the look in my eyes or feels guilty that they couldn’t relate to what I was going through at all. They don’t have to say anything back. They don’t even have to read it if they don’t want to. They can choose to know, or choose to keep some distance.
It does make me a bit of a chicken. Or a big chicken. But it’s a start, and it feels good.
There isn’t a place in my life beyond a small circle of friends and family where everything comes out. And even with those people, I tend to work out the deepest things in the deepest parts of myself, where my thoughts don’t bounce off one other like echoes in a canyon.
I guess to most people — people who can talk about something serious without stumbling madly over their words — it seems impossibly complicated or indulgent to feel your way through life like this.
But the more I write, the more I feel comfortable about bringing my thoughts into the light.
Maybe I’ll learn to do it out loud, eventually.
November 14th, 2007 at 11:16 am
I can definitely relate to this. Blogging about my issues is sometimes so much easier than talking to someone about them. I can just spew — and process — without worrying that the other person will feel dumped on, or uncomfortable, or whatever. And I can always decide not to post after I’ve written; it’s not possible to take back something after it’s been said. (Now that I think of it, this is how my husband “blogs”: He writes it all down, and instead of publishing, he just files it away — or deletes it. For him it’s the writing of the thing that matters, not the sharing.)
November 14th, 2007 at 11:44 am
I had been a bit wary of sharing my feelings on my blog, but the more I do it, the better I feel. Your blog is awesome Meg, and you are awesome.
November 14th, 2007 at 12:22 pm
I just had a “I didn’t know” situation today with a dear friend at work, she’s looked so tired lately. So, today I stopped by her office and said “You look tired, are you okay?” and her answer was “Yeah, I’m tired. My husband left me.” Apparently he had been talking about it for over a month and came home this weekend (he works in another town and had been coming home most weekends) to see if things could be worked out, decided not to try and told her he was filing for divorce. She hadn’t said anything to me or anyone else at work, hoping he’d get over what was bothering him and they could work it out. So, we cried together and talked, since I could empathize (been there, done that and bought the t-shirt 20 years ago). Gosh, I hurt for her.
I’m glad you have this outlet for your feelings and are feeling more comfortable in sharing them. Not good to keep things bottled up, you know.
November 14th, 2007 at 1:48 pm
For what it is worth, Meg, the reason I kept coming back this year is to see how you were doing with the whole infertility thing. I figured no news was not likely to be good news, and was concerned a little. I am really relieved to hear you are processing it, and both impressed and honoured that you are sharing with us.
It’s tough stuff. And great writing.
November 14th, 2007 at 3:59 pm
i think it is very brave, actually. the written word is so permanent, no matter how often you hit that ‘delete’ button and take a post down. i started my little blog and then after finding out that my family was reading it, got spooked that they would learn too much about me so i didn’t write anything at all personal. i find it is just too uncomfortable to have someone i know in real life come up to me and say, “so, i saw your blog….” and then be forced to answer questions i never wanted to discuss with them in the first place.
November 15th, 2007 at 7:12 am
Do you know about postsecret.com? That could help you be a starting point to discussions with others…
November 15th, 2007 at 7:51 am
Hi Richgold! I’ve looked at that site quite a few times, but I’m not sure how I feel about it. :) I think the mix of silly confessions and scary stuff people were working through appealed to me on some level, and on another level, just weirded me out. :)
February 27th, 2008 at 4:59 pm
I was going to write something inspirational but it would just come off sounding corny. Best advice I have is to inject that bit of information about yourself when it fits appropriately in the conversation. But don’t treat it as an weight around your neck.
I believe how you internalize this, whether you see it as a fault or just a fact, makes a big difference on how you come across in conversation. In other words, don’t prepare folks by saying something to point it out, just say, for example, “yeah, we are considering adopting,” when it fits. That gives people an out to just say yeah whatever or really ask why.
Hope that helps. Best to you.
Todd