Tuesday, October 25, 2016

{october 25, 2016}

I have been prompted to start writing on my blog again more times than I care to admit. At least three times over the years I have entered a new post, only to leave it sitting there in "draft" mode. I don't claim to have profound knowledge or sage advice, but I feel I have a voice that was meant to be shared. So if I publish this post (and maybe that's what I'm most afraid of) then I have to be committed to it.

Most people who will read this, know my history. For those who don't know, you can read my past story by following this link {our cancer story}

Much...and I mean MUCH...has happened since then. I tried to explain one other time how different and difficult it is to write about life now as compared to when we were going through cancer, dealing with Mark's death and the struggles that the children and I went through as we picked ourselves up and tried to push forward. During the moving forward it didn't seem easy to share. I was afraid of sharing things that would hurt someone else or seem to be begging for sympathies. I didn't want sympathy or criticism. I've always been afraid of what others think of me, and moving forward was scary. Maybe I'm growing up. Some of the moving forward was messy. A lot of it was painful. Much of it seemed impossible. Yet here we are (I am), doing pretty amazing if I may say; still living, still enduring and happy despite the trials.

I will mostly be moving forward from this point in my life, but there will be times I go back and address some experiences, because it will be necessary to understand where I am now. This is my story, my history and I write it for me. If someone else enjoys it then I'm glad, but I need to write because I cannot ignore the prompting.


marianne said...
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A Musing Mother said...

Oh please do blog again! I love the way you write with such honesty and you-ness! I always feel like I'm reading a letter from a dear friend! May also add that I live your family and want to know how they are. All through your it's, laments, diatribes, and introspections, never did I feel pity for you. I grieved with you, I cried with you, I felt inspired with you - but never pity. You're simply the friend I want to hug then take long walks and lunches so we can talk.

So please write!

A Musing Mother said...

Hmm. I should have proofread that. Live=love. The rest I keep squinting and turning the iPad. I think it might be written in Greek.