From a FaceBook message thread: I .... worry that since I'm too shy to write public comments back that it creates a very one sided friendship -- I know you and your thoughts so much more .... but here I am, hunkering down in the cold north with nothing but bulbs to plant and unsure how to or if I should respond to the thought provoking things you say.
From a phone call: "You should have guest posts when you're out of town." "Why don't you write one?" "I'm not ready to share."
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The immediacy of the blogosphere is intimidating, it's true. Put it out and there it stays, to be read by anyone and everyone whether you know them or not. Probably not. No, most definitely not. 77 people read the Burrow last week - do you know 76 others who've been here? (Of course, if you tell them how wonderful it is, then maybe you will, but for now, I'm dealing in reality.)
I've been commenting on other blogs for the last few weeks. Actually, Ashleigh Burroughs has been commenting, and I've been watching her do it. The assumption of another persona has been the only way I could muster the courage to write to you every day. A well-respected-friend told me that, in her classroom, it would be said that I have "a voice". I bask in the compliment, but it's Ashleigh who deserves the kudos.
Sure, sure, they are my fingers on the keyboard but are they my thoughts or Ashleigh's? I wasn't brave enough to blog; she was. Is. Continues to be, as I wonder why I rest comfortably behind her facade.
These musings are the stuff of my daily conversations and emails and ruminations. They are my truths, and I stand behind them all. Yet I have a hard time - ok, an impossible time - typing them under my own name.
So I understand your reluctance to post comments or write a guest blog. Here's a suggestion that's worked for me in bowling. Perhaps it will work for you in writing. If you bowl poorly, just change your name. No need to be Kathy or Jenny when Cookie or Peaches is just waiting to show you the way.
Take it from Ashleigh.... it works for us.
Dear Suzi,
ReplyDeleteI've only met you a couple times, at Cornell events. The last time was when you brought Christina to a zoo outing. I thought at the time what a nice thing to do, and I still think that. What a wonderful neighbor and friend you were and are to her and her family. You are an amazing woman. I look forward to seeing you again as you get stronger and getting to know you better. Let's hope good comes out of this somehow. God be with you and your family and loved ones as you heal.
Ma'am,
ReplyDeleteI'm 64 years of age and only now do I sit nervously at my computer, knowing that for the very first time, I will actually write a comment. Why I should find this disturbing I truthfully do not know. Maybe because I was so deeply moved over the past few weeks, or that I can't truly let the pain and suffering you are feeling go without trying to extend a hand or a shoulder. No one could possibly no what awaits you though we all hope it will be a complete and thorough recovery. I did not suffer something as terrible as what you have experienced, though I do know what it feels like to hold a child as she struggles to take her final breath. My daughter died of a massive seizure after being born with spinal meningitis. She was three years old as I talked gently to her and rocked her until her final breath. My heart broke that night, almost 26 years ago and I know I never recovered. But we do learn to love with pain. Much like the loss of a limb, our lives do go on and we adjust. When you find time to reflect and be alone you accept the reality that your life has changed forever. That there will be tears, many times completely out of nowhere. That those around you will claim that you have changed, and they will be right, though they may not know why. Friends and family will worry that you haven't gotten over this fast enough, while you struggle with the reality that no faith can give you answers, simply because there isn't any. Knowing any of this will not make your road easier. You're bright, articulate and intelligent and you will deal with all of this because you have to. But when one of those crying jags come, or you feel miserable? Know that there will be people out there who will be crying right alongside you and if you close your eyes, you'll feel there hands in yours,and on your shoulders. God Bless you Ma'am.
Mike "Spin" Spinella
Belgrade, Montana