“Sit down. I want to tell you a sad story.” Who says that? Better yet. What wants to actually pander to that request? The truth is, we all want to say it. We never want to hear it. It’s depressing! Who electively wants to be put into a bad mood? Ok. There are some who are sick, slightly demented, and seek out feeling bad. But then there are those who want to hear it because it makes them feel less alone.
At the risk of sounding like a silly female, I watched Oprah. When I found out it was her final season, I made it a point to watch all the remaining episodes of the show. I didn’t watch every single one, but the ones that interested me, I watched. Especially the finale show. She said so many things that impacted me on some level. One of the things I found particularly profound was, “We all want to be heard. We all want to be validated.” So true.
This resonated with me for a very specific reason. Recently I was talking to my best friend about where I’m actually at in my grief over my son, Connor. As I previously wrote, June is a rough month for me. She’s the one who listens to me whenever I need to be heard. This conversation was different. I rattled off the things I’ve been telling myself for the past three years. Then I said, “I think I’ve accepted things. I obviously have the tangible proof that he’s not here. How can I be in denial over that? I have to have accepted it right?”
I love the candid nature of true friends. There’s comfort in having a friend who won’t hold back. Even when it hurts. No matter how honest we think we are with ourselves, sometimes we convince ourselves something is true, when it’s really not. This conversation turned into an Oprah “Ah-ha” moment.
She told me she believes there’s a different kind of acceptance beyond the tangible and I don’t think you’re there. She didn’t know exactly how to explain it, but I understood what she was saying. Then I asked her, “How do I get that true acceptance?” Wouldn’t it be nice if the answers were all placed in a pretty package, just waiting to be opened? Instead that package is tucked deeply in a vault with several layers of doors with different combination locks. Each layer becoming increasingly more challenging to decode. Wishing in one hand, pooh in the other...piles and piles of pooh.
This conversation in conjunction with the Oprah finale put something into my direct field of vision. For three years now I’ve sat down and started and quit writing a book. Dozens of times, I’ve sat in front of my computer and gathered thoughts. I’ve recounted memories and attempted to put them together into a cohesive chain. Each and every time the content became emotionally rough, I’d quit.
If I sat down in front of a therapist and told him or her that, they’d look at me like I had an elephant’s trunk sticking out of my forehead. “Emma, you have the answer you’re looking for. It’s right there in front of you. You know what you need to fix yourself, why aren’t you doing it?” Here I am, writing right now, that I have always had exactly what I’ve needed in order to reach the real acceptance I need in order to be as whole as I can be considering.
I need to tell my story. I need to be heard. I need to tell every gory detail of the past three years. The response to things I have written via blogs over the past three years have been interesting. I’ve been told what I’ve written has helped someone. I’ve been able to connect to someone else without even knowing it and impacted their own grief. If just the little moments of blogs I’ve shared have been able to do that, then what would an entire book do? Perhaps I’m a little egotistical to believe I could have that affect on a grander scale, but I think the potential is here in my words.
Here’s some truth I have come to about myself. I’m actually ok. Do I have moments where I get immensely sad? Absolutely. But, I am still able to laugh. I still enjoy the highlights of my life. I am capable of enjoyment. People like to be around me. A person who is truly bogged down by depression isn’t able to do or be those things. And it’s because of that self awareness, I believe I have a story worthy of sharing. I’m really ok. I’m a mother who lost her baby and is doing the best she can to move forward. Which in fact, I have.
I’ve basically just given you the synopsis of the book, but without the gritty detail as to how I’ve gotten here. It’s a little scary thinking about the deep I’m about to be in. But the story won’t be nearly as educational without knowing the whole thing. I’m so excited about this breakthrough. I’m equally excited to have found this new level of dedication and sense of purpose. In a way, I’ve self validated.
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