Hard times

Dear readers, I’m having a hard time posting lately. Recent writing has dredged up ugly stuff, about my husband's death, about the miracle of my daughter’s birth, about who I used to be. I’m working on about a million things and seeing hope and horizons everywhere, but I’m tired. And everyone’s been sick.

None of it's a surprise, but this stuff is hard to do.

I told my church that my resolution in the New Year was “I will no longer apologize for who I am, and also, I'm gonna stop pretending that I like pie.”

But I am sorry to be slow. These are heavy topics, and even though I’m so much better now, and in love, and I have a happy healthy child ... there is a lot going on under the surface and I only have a grip on a little bit of it.

Please be patient with me. The two dozen half written posts (and the end of my daughter’s birth story) are good stuff, even if I end up publishing them in imperfect form.

(Now there’s a resolution. To accept imperfections in myself and others!)

(Maybe you should be praying for me instead?)


Kim said...

Do all things pro tripudium... (for joy)

Anonymous said...

All things will be done in good time. I've used this analogy, but it really is like walking on a beach. Water tickling your toes, or water bubbling a long way away from you, then BAM! you get hit with a wave that knocks you down and takes your breath. I'm sorry you're going through a tough time right now. I hope the writing is a bit of a catharsis.

Supa Dupa Fresh said...

Mary, yes, it's cathartic, everything is right now: I think I'm breaking down to my elements... One of which is (Kim!) joy.

LOVE to you and yours. If I haven't added you to my blogroll yet, I will soon; I like to wait for a meaty number of posts to be up. (Will revisit you now).

THANKS, friends!

annie said...

Memoir type stuff is hard regardless, hence the reason that mine is still not finished.

The day my daughter was born it had been a month since my late husband's worst episode. I still didn't know that he was physically ill and I was seriously considering leaving him. He wandered the hospital in a daze while I gave birth pretty much by myself. Now there is a downer birth story that I am in no hurry to re-tell.

Cut yourself some slack. Breath.

Abigail said...

I agree with annie. Breathe. Don't be so hard on yourself. Physical therapy is hard. Grief therapy is no different, and writing is a potent form.

We are patient readers. We know what it takes.

Supa Dupa Fresh said...

Thanks, friends.
I know people talk about the trauma of birth when they get a C-section against their will. I am finding out that many things traumatize us, and they're all worth taking seriously.
And, breathing.


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