Or the less catchy and more accurate version: I can't handle the truth. But I'm working on it. I have two blog posts sitting in draft mode, another twenty or so swimming around in my head, and I'll spit the truth out now: this terrifies me. Not writing or blogging, but being this public about such a personal experience. Being honest about the weird thoughts that float in and out of my mind and making these weird things even more true by recording them. This is more than writer's block, it's anxiety, self consciousness and fear. I want to challenge myself to be real with this. And I still do want that. I'm just having a hard time fully embracing how difficult it is to really put yourself out there.
I've also been contemplating what this space can be. My story of grief and grieving is like a spec of dust on a giant mountain of grief experiences. Due to the reasons mentioned above, it is hard for people to be vulnerable and discuss their personal journeys. Even so, I am going to try and poke a few people I know (and don't mind sharing this with) to consider a therapeutic contribution or two. At a certain point if anyone besides me reads this blog and wants to share a story, I would love that.
When I started The Good Grief I was really low. I had had an emotionally draining therapy session, and this idea of helping others through chronicling some of the finer points of my grieving journey came up. It wasn't my idea, but I liked it. And here I am. Today I am good. All those fucking clichés are actually true. There are good days and bad days. The grief comes in waves. You're down then you're up. Most days are good. I'm thankful for that, among many other things.
Working on me constantly, working on embracing vulnerability currently. More to come.