I smiled. It was the kind of smile that I knew reached my eyes, the kind that made my cheeks hurt. There were smiles, and giggles, and full on laughter.
My last post brought a lot of you out of the woodwork. People who have known me for years, and those of you who have just met me were concerned. To be honest, I am too. I’ve spent the last 14 years sharing my world, fears, silly thoughts, and everything in between with the world. In the last 14 years, nothing has come close to what I shared last week.
The good news is that I’m not hiding inside my own head. I’m trying to make an effort to let people in. The bad news is that it’s a lot to ask, not everyone has the right answers, and at the end of the day, there’s really nothing the people in my life can do or say. They can just be.
And they are. You are. I appreciate it fully, even if I can’t always show it.
The tricky part about having a personal blog is how much I want to share with the world. It’s tricky because the uncomfortable truths turn people away. Reading about someone else’s inner turmoil makes us uncomfortable. It makes us feel helpless. It makes us uneasy. Sometimes though, it reminds us we’re not alone.
I write for myself, and I write for those who need to identify. I write as a cry for help. I write to show the cracks in the foundation. I write to illustrate the turn in the tide. I write to remind myself it’s OK to share.
Back to the glimmer of light that briefly appeared last week. It was unexpected. For a night, I felt like myself. Briefly.
It was enough to help me see that there’s hope. I will find my way back to healing, little by little.
It comes down to patience – with myself, and hopefully, from those in my life as I try and fail and try again to be alright.