“I read your blog” people tell me. And I can see in their eyes that something in it has moved them. I see it in your blog comments. And I get scared that I can’t live up to this thing I’ve created. I’m scared that when the makeup and the clown nose come off, there is nothing there. Nothing to inspire, nothing to laugh at through the tears, nothing but the banal truth that it is getting harder and harder for me to just roll with the punches.
You see I am attached to the “me” that bravely faces this. I am attached to the wisdom I have gained from this experience and I am deeply threatened by the dark clouds that loom – clouds of fear, sadness, bitterness and frustration.
I want my body back. I want my voice to soar the way it used to. I don’t want to have to depend on people for everything. I worry that I will cease to be me – whoever that is.
I’m not writing this so you will all send me nice and loving comments. I’m writing partly to get through this feeling and partly to warn you that I’m not necessarily who I seem to be. My situation is remarkable, but I’m not.
The fierceness and consistency of the love I’ve experienced from friends and family has been humbling, life changing and overpowering. I feel like any self-pity I indulge in is like spitting in the face of this abundance, but those feeling blow over me like a tsunami and I can’t help but be so hurt and angry that I can’t open my change purse or that my son has to button my coat or that this is just the tip of the iceberg.
I want to go back in time and really experience things I didn’t know were a miracle – crazy dancing with my friend Daniel until I sweat buckets, running in a park with Mac and falling down together in the grass, taking a yoga class with a bunch of girlfriends, braiding my own hair, stage fighting, doing Wedding Singer Blues, boogie boarding and feeling the waves crash over me, opening my own jars and bottles and of course seeing an endless road of possibilities reveal itself to me.
I’ll be happy again, just not tonight.