I don’t know me.

I finally sat down today with my freelance editor’s notes on section 1 of my memoir manuscript. Section 1 describes the years leading up to my son’s diagnosis with a brain tumor. My editor told me it would need a lot of work, and it does.

So often in her notes, my editor questions why I am who am I, why I reacted–or didn’t react–the way I did. The reader will want to know, she indicates, and I agree.

But I don’t have an answer.

Why do I keep so much inside? Why do I hide so much of my deepest thoughts?

I don’t know.

I don’t know me.

I don’t know how to know me, today, or 31 years ago when I was a new mom.

I’m probably overdue for therapy. With a painful memoir like mine in the works, I should have been in therapy long ago. I love therapy, actually, being able to talk about myself ad nauseam. I guess I’ve never wanted to subject family and friends to that self-absorption. But the reality is, with my chronic health conditions, and frequent medical appointments, the thought of adding another appointment to my week seems impossible. And a Skype or phone appointment just isn’t the same.

So I sit here on the couch and hold it in. And I cry.

And I decide to be vulnerable with you, my followers.

This, actually, is a step forward. This feels like a different kind of writing. I’ll try to do more of it and I hope you’ll weather the storm with me.

 

 

 

 

 

10 thoughts on “I don’t know me.”

  1. Of course, I’ll be here for you.
    Anytime.
    Don’t fret.
    I believe most people really don’t know themselves either.
    Life pushes and pulls us in directions we never thought we’d go.
    And then there are years of just going through the motions.
    Suddenly we wake up and wonder how did I get here? What do I really want?
    Where a am I going?
    We are all on a life journey or quest.

    Perhaps this is what happens when you get older, and empty nested.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Sheba, that’s so beautiful. You never told me you were a writer, too! I think you’re right–not only am I questioning because of what I’m writing, but because I have the time now that the boys are gone and I’m not working (for pay. outside the house. lol). I am so glad to have you with me on this journey. Thank you!!

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  2. Be kind to yourself. Love the things you did right. Ask yourself why you did those things, too. When you advocated for your son, why did you do so? You know why–love, determination, intelligence, and a never-ending instinct that your son was in trouble. Do a few free writes–short ones. And leave the rest of the questions and go back to them when you are ready, not right now. When we delve into the hard stuff, it is often a good idea to be going to therapy–even if just for a few meetings. No need to commit to therapy for a year, just a couple of meetings, which is less overwhelming to the schedule. Above all, love yourself. If you don’t know why you did certain things, it doesn’t matter. You are a beautiful, loving, talented human being. XXOO

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you, my wonderful, talented editor! I can’t imagine going through this with some stranger! And you’re right–a few therapy sessions I can handle. I tend to make things into such a big deal. Well, there’s more free write fodder for me! Thanks so much for your support.

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  3. Be kind to yourself. I think there is so much we learn about ourselves in the early years of motherhood, what to do, what not to do, when to worry and advocate and when to step back. And then there’s the guilt when we don’t worry enough, or too much, etc. motherhood rips you open and leaves you vulnerable because your heart is walking around outside your body. I’ve stopped seeking balance because it’s too much pressure, and it isn’t going to come to me in the near future. Therapy can be good, if you have the time to invest, it can also open up Pandora’s box. I’m sure you’ll figure it out!

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  4. You’re still in the thick of things, and you’re probably right that balance won’t come to you for awhile. I remember those exhausting days of working motherhood. I had hoped by this time in my life, more of my shit would be resolved, but the writing has indeed opened Pandora’s Box. Hmm. Maybe if I let everything out for good, it will be empty and I can shut the lid on that sucker for good! Thanks for your support 🙂

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  5. Although it comes from a tough place, your writing is compelling. I certainly want to read more…when you get there of course. Certainly you must know about yourself that your tenacity and love allowed Matt to become the exceptionally insightful, sensitive and interesting man that he is. xxx

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  6. That’s beautiful, Mary Beth! Thank you for your support. Yes, I’ll own what you’ve said. My love for Matt and refusal to give up have given my story a happy, uplifting ending. Matt is an amazing young man who inspires me always.

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  7. I think by default writers keep the hurts inside, but it’s our job to open up and pour them out onto the paper. It’s so hard. On my blog, my humor and my grief blogs–opposite ends of our emotions–do equally as well. How odd is that and yet doesn’t it sum up how our emotions work?
    Hang in there, Karen.

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    1. This was so beautiful, Rose Mary, and there your comment sat in my spam bucket, when I really could have used the support. Well, I found it today, and it will buoy me through another tough day of writing. Thank YOU for hanging in there with me!

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