Big sigh…
This feels like eating canned green beans. I hate canned green beans. As a kid, I would eat everything else on my plate so slowly knowing each bite brought me closer to the inevitable ending. If I wanted to get up from the table I had to finish the green beans. If I want to continue to publish here I have to write the first post. I have to write the “after” in the before and after of this story.
The last post I wrote here lamented about laundry. How do I follow that up with my son got brain cancer and then he died?
When Aiden was sick I would check in on my site from time to time. Kind of like checking in on an old boyfriend on Facebook. It was around this time last year I contemplated posting about Aiden’s journey with cancer but I couldn’t get out word one. The blank page was too distracting and I wanted to be as present as possible. I needed to understand what the doctors were saying, to play with my baby when he was able and hold him when he wasn’t. I needed every ounce of my being to listen to Owen and Peyton, to support Nick, and to function in this dystopian world of hospitals and surgeries and chemotherapy
There was nothing left for extras. I decided to just share through Instagram. I didn’t post a lot. It was overwhelming to feel so exposed but when I did share I always felt so uplifted. Having a child with cancer is a lonely journey.
Then Aiden died and instantly I wanted the whole world to hear his name, see his face, and know his story. I wrote all the time and when I wasn’t writing I was thinking about writing. I shared what it was like and was published in The Santa Barbara Independent. I was processing my grief out loud and it felt good. Like Joan Didion says, I was writing to find out what I was thinking. Once again I found myself wandering over to the blog.
But then COVID happened and with that came fear, quarantine, distance learning, political and social unrest, and bored kids. Like everyone, I was overwhelmed with it all.
At first, I relished in the time with my older children and so did they. We had spent so much of the school year apart I was just happy to be near them. In those first few months Nick was working a ton so for the most part it was just the three of us. We watched movies and went on hikes. We ate junk food, stayed up late, and spent way too much time playing video games. We talked about Aiden a lot. I remember telling Nick how I could tell we are doing an ok job with the kids because they’re never afraid to bring up Aiden.
Once the school year ended and it became clear that this life of lockdown was not ending anytime soon I started to carve out time for creativity. I craved it. I needed it. If we were going to make it out of this situation with our sanity I needed some time for myself.
I joined an online writing class offered through a podcast I listen to. Each week we are given a prompt and write for 30 minutes and then three or four people share what they’ve written and get feedback. This is what I wrote the first week. Note the imposter syndrome…
“I am…
I am not good at free writing. I was so excited to start this class and have been trying to make it for months and now that I am here I am frozen. Allison said, “I am” and all of a sudden I don’t know what words are. I feel naked in front of these people. People who are smarter than me, funnier than me, and look like a normal person on a computer screen. They probably wear pants and brush their teeth and make food.
This morning I woke up early so I would have plenty of time to work out, eat breakfast, and get the kids’ breakfasts ready too. During my workout, my mind was flooded with ideas and stories I wanted to share and now here I am with nothing to say… Well, I not nothing because I’m writing now and haven’t stopped for almost half a page… so I guess that’s something.
But really, does any of this need to make sense? Does it have to “flow”? Do I even need to be able to read it? Side note, yes! please Emily work on your handwriting. Trying to decipher your chicken scratch is rough.
Why did you join this call? It wasn’t to show off or try and prove yourself to anyone, least of all these other humans who probably didn’t put on pants today either. You joined this call because you want to work your writing muscle. You want to feel that same sense of urgency you feel when you don’t work out. Your workouts are your first priority every day. Writing needs to be the same. You want to feel the NEED to write your thoughts so you can stop thinking and start acting. You want accountability, you want an excuse to take an hour to create something outside the confines of being a mother, wife, head of household. Face it, you want permission. As much as you wish you didn’t need it, right now you do so roll with it.”
I’ve been in this class for almost four months now and I love it. I haven’t written this much since college. Some of it is crap, some of it ok, and some of it really good. I was published on Love What Matters and the experience left me wanting more.
Things happened, I’m still here. I still want to create. I still want to share what is on this broken, breaking, but still-beating heart of mine. So expect to hear from me from time to time.
I gave the blog a bit of a facelift. It’s not perfect, but it feels more like me in this “after” time of my life. You can check in with me here are better yet subscribe to my newsletter, Loves & Lemons. 🍋🍋🍋
This is where I am today. Thank you for listening. xoxo
