Finding the right truth to tell

I’m frequently amazed, as I’m reading what people have to say on their blogs, at how forthright many are about their lives. People write about the problems they’re having with their kids, intimate details of their marriages, their medical histories. I don’t say that to judge anyone, it’s just not my style. For instance, I read a blog the other day where a woman spoke frankly about her problems with IBS. And while I have nothing but admiration for her ability to be so open about something that people struggle with mostly in silence, I couldn’t do it. As a matter of fact, I have this urge RIGHT NOW to assure you that I, personally, don’t have IBS. Which is not the point.

I have, at times, been more self-revealing here than I would have expected when I started this journey. However, I am careful. People I know in real life read this. I strive to reflect reality, but with discretion. The truth, and nothing but the truth, but not perhaps the WHOLE truth. There are moments to close to the heart to publish.

This past week has been a hard one, for reasons I’m just not going to go into. Some of it’s not my story to tell, and some of it…I’m sorry...is none of your business. I can’t. Everyone is ok, there is no great catastrophe, but I am wearied and sad.

So what can I say? What should I tell you?

A few days ago the weather was so warm that I ran the air conditioner as I drove around town. Flowers were blooming everywhere, weeds popping up in the cracks of sidewalks.

“It feels like summer!” the boys declared. I eyed the sky suspiciously and said,

“No…not quite. It feels like spring.”

Spring cannot be trusted.

Last night it snowed, and we awoke to a layer of white pressing down everything green. It wasn’t much snow, maybe an inch, but it came with air so cold that it didn’t melt off until midday. This evening I took Carmi out for a walk, and I looked at the tulips and iris by our mailbox. Two days ago they were glossy and crayon bright. They stood proudly in the sun. Tonight they slumped against the mailbox post, their color dulled. They will survive, but they look bruised by the cold.

That is how I feel tonight. Limp and dull. I will look in on the boys as they sleep, feeding my heart with the sight of them, then go to bed, curled against the warmth of my husband. I hope to wake to a sunnier day.

And that is the truth.

Comments

[shannon]

I have to admit that there are times I feel the urge to share too much but then I remember my mother reads my blog. :) I hope all figures itself out and you find peace and calm soon.

I'm glad I found your words. I don't "know" you, but at the same time, I'm glad I know you...does that make any sense? I hope so.

[Sheryl]

It's way too early for me to be coherent, or comforting, but I'm sorry. Hope tings get better soon.

[Sheryl]

Tings. Yeah, that's a lot like things. I must be channeling Jimmy Durante.

[thisbiochemicallife]

I feel the same way sometimes. I find myself wishing that I could discuss a certain topic or blog about something in my life, but it's far too personal or a problem that someone else would never want in the open. For me, even blogging about other things can be cathartic, so I'll usually post some pictures of my son or blog about the more mundane things. I hope the morning brought you the peace you were hoping for.

[Mir]

Love you, sweetheart. Will call you later from the road. *hugs*

[Baglady]

Spring can be trusted.
Snow does not make spring a lie.
Endure snow. Treasure truth.

Damm. One syllable off. Just like life.

I ache with you.

[Tracy]

Discretion has proven to be the most difficult part of blogging. I have friends who are reading my blog, and I also remind myself that my family *could* find it and figure it out, even with the fact that the kids and K have "blog names" instead.

I do two things - I try not to write anything that I wouldn't say to someone in "real life". I don't tell other people's business. And there are certain things I just don't talk about, even if I would talk about them in real life. Wait, that's three. Some things in my medical history I have talked about in depth - mostly infertility and loss related, while other things that I have talked about was to work through things. Still with the first three items in mind. Oh, that makes four, doesn't it. Oh, well, it's not an exact science...

{hugs} for your hard week. No matter the reason, it's not fun, and I know that limp feeling all too well.

[Nic]

Honey..., I'm sorry that you are feeling sad and worn, sometimes life is more exhausting than any thing else isn't it? Cuddle your men and know that we love you too. Sending vitual hugs...

[el-e-e]

For me the desire to share inappropriately is usually job-related, because my coworkers read me. You did the perfect thing, telling us you are weary, so at least we can be thinking of you and wishing you peace in it. ((hugs))

[Aimee]

I hope things get better soon, and that it all works out.

[Heather Cook]

Were you reading dooce.com? LOL

I have said things on my blog that I wished I hadn't. I've learned some things the hard way. I try to write only what I know I'd say out loud in front of an audience that includes my husband, my mother, my father, my ex-husband, my ex-inlaws and all of my friends.

When I first got divorced I wrote a lot about it. But after the pain had subsided, I realized that all the ugliness was out there in the world wide web for everyone to read it. No one would read it and think "oh, but she's better now"... no, they'd read it just as angry as I wrote it on that day. But I wasn't angry anymore.

I ended up taking down that entire blog and starting a new one. Now I censor myself so that I'm comfortable with anyone reading what I've written.

[Carmen]

Yup, I learned the HARD way that my sisters found my blog without any help from me, and things that probably should have been censored weren't.

I'm late to this party - I was away for a while. My heart hurts for you, that you've had a bad week. I hope it gets better soon.