I didn’t know I wanted it so badly.
I wanted it so badly, so ferociously, so deeply, and still I had no idea it would hurt like this when it didn’t come. A year of work, a year of intense pining, a year of secret hope so sharp I didn’t dare wield it publicly for fear it would slice me clean through, or at least reflect my pathetic desire on its blade for all to see, this face, this wanting, this crushing need to be taken seriously, me.
I wanted it the way other people want a baby, or to lose 50 pounds, or to win the lottery. This is not cancer, I say it over and over in my head to the rhythm of my stomping up the road, the fierce wind licking my face clean of tears, unable to unclench my fists, can’t unclench my gut, stopping, doubling over, breathing, straightening, moving on, rinsing, repeating. This is not divorce. Shocked by the tenacity of my unexpected grief, real grief, over something no one else will understand, something so silly. This is not rape. This is not fire. This is not a stroke. This is not domestic violence. This is not a car accident. Repeat it repeat it repeat it. Believe it believe it believe it. Get through it get through it get through it.
One shoe slips and sinks in a puddle of muck and I flash to Dave last night, framed by the windshield from the waist up, brushing a half foot of snow from the hood with the quilted flannel of his forearm, his breath in steady puffs alive and suspended in the headlights and now, today, it’s already gone, melted, evaporated, like it had never come at all, now there’s just mud and brutalized brown grass and I know this will go away too if I can just keep moving, keep sucking in air, if I can just get to the top of the hill, to the other side, where this hurt can’t reach me, I can disappear too, like the snow, I can hide, I can quit, This is not a heart attack, even if it feels like it, this is not a real loss, then why does it feel like it, this too shall pass, nobody else cares about this, count your blessings, don’t be an idiot, walk on, walk on, walk on.
***
“There will come a time when you believe everything is finished. That will be the beginning.” — Louis L’amour
D says:
I care. Its not silly. You’re beautiful. xoxoxoxoxo
March 30th, 2009 at 1:01 pm
kelly says:
my husband (before he was my husband) sent me a card when I was living far away from him, trying to process something that my heart and mind just did not know how to digest… it was a black card and in white type said: When you’re going through hell, keep going. (W. Churchill) and really that’s all there is to do. Keep going. Keep showing up. Keep opening up. Keep being. You’re already doing it…
hugs to you…
also:
“One shoe slips and sinks in a puddle of muck and I flash to Dave last night, framed by the windshield from the waist up, brushing a half foot of snow from the hood with the quilted flannel of his forearm, his breath in steady puffs alive and suspended in the headlights and now, today, it’s already gone…” damn fine imagery.
March 30th, 2009 at 1:02 pm
vodkamom says:
It’s not true. we do care. We do.
March 30th, 2009 at 1:02 pm
Lesley says:
This is so lovely I just wish SO BADLY that I knew what it was you were writing this lovely piece about! Does that make me nosy? I don’t intend to be. I don’t feel nosy…I feel interested. You and your writing, Ms. Maggie, are interesting!
Whatever it is, I’m so sorry for the loss of it. it’s good to count your blessings and to try to keep perspective but it’s also okay to really feel the loss.
Much love to you! (Great Louis L’amour quote!)
March 30th, 2009 at 1:03 pm
Ryan says:
Though there’s a real possibility that I’m misreading this, I believe I understand where you’re coming from: I find the need to be taken seriously bubbles up like acid-reflux every other week or so, only to be shouted down like the lone dissenter at an Elk Club meeting, and I understand that I suffer more for that one proud, dissenting voice than I do a hundred hilarious insults.
Age and rationalization has helped me overcome – I finally understand, seeing it from a distance, that I’m better at whatever I’m doing when I’m being funny… and if “humour” isn’t a genre that’s given to gravitas, which it obviously isn’t, well, fuck it: I’ll deal with the disrespect the way I deal with an ice cream headache – wait three seconds for the brainfreeze to subside, and dive in for seconds.
If, perchance, I’m off-base with the meaning of this post, all apologies.
Either way, much love.
Ry
March 30th, 2009 at 1:04 pm
pgoodness says:
I’m sorry you didn’t get it. I’m sorry for your pain. It may not be all those things that are horrible, but it’s still real and still hurts and will still take time to get over. Hugs
March 30th, 2009 at 1:08 pm
janet says:
Whatever it is, I’m sorry it eludes you.
March 30th, 2009 at 1:12 pm
Emma says:
you’re writing is phenomenal and so very beautiful. i hope your pain begins to fade with every breath and every step.
March 30th, 2009 at 1:12 pm
sweetsalty kate says:
It’s like what they say about pain, that there can’t be the true registering of joy without it. Apparently we need to be denied a time or two (or many more) to cement the wanting.
Which doesn’t make the denial any easier. It sucks. Which is why they invented wine.
xo
March 30th, 2009 at 1:22 pm
Jewels says:
~Pain comes in all forms. The small twinge, a bit of soreness, the random pain, the normal pains we live with everyday. Then there’s the kind of pain you can’t ignore. A level of pain so great that it blocks out everything else… makes the rest of the world fade away, until all we can think about is how much we hurt. How we manage our pain is up to us. Pain, we anestitize, ride it out, embrace it, ignore it. For some of us the best way to manage pain is to just push through it….~
March 30th, 2009 at 1:26 pm
JES says:
Nothing cuts more deeply nor stings more sharply than a wound we inflict on ourselves: cutting a hole in our hearts or lives and saying, vainly, Okay world – fill that for me, wouldja?
SO sorry to hear, Maggie, about the… well, “disappointment” hardly seems word enough. I hope now that the Band-Aid’s been ripped away, the healing will go fast!
March 30th, 2009 at 1:32 pm
Becky says:
With all that’s gone on in the past 3 months for me, I always feel somewhat guilty whenever I find that I want to whine about something more minor than brain surgery on my daughter. But, that said, it doesn’t mean that I don’t deserve to feel bad about those things.
I’m sorry things didn’t work out, Maggie. I’m really sorry. Doesn’t matter
March 30th, 2009 at 1:35 pm
Xbox4NappyRash says:
Taking a bit of a leap like Ryan there, I can only say you can do it. A year, 2, 5, I don’t know, but your talent is obvious and if your determination is a fraction as developed, you will do it.
In line with your analogies, I believe that. I have to.
March 30th, 2009 at 1:41 pm
Katie says:
It WILL happen. I have faith in you. And I don’t doubt that someday, next year, 5 years, 10 years… someday, it WILL happen. And I’ll be proud of you every day no matter how long it takes.
LOVE YOU.
XOXO
March 30th, 2009 at 2:05 pm
Kat says:
Maggie, it doesn’t matter that it’s not rape or death or whatever thing you can think of as worse. Pain is pain, my friend, and your very real pain is not “less” because it’s none of those “worse” things. Wish I could hug you, commiserate, do something…so sorry for your hurt.
March 30th, 2009 at 3:33 pm
ms. changes pants while driving says:
i agree with vodkamom and sweet/salty kate.
we do care. and, we do want to know what it’s all about.
i hate grief. i mean, but who doesn’t? “oh, i LOVE grief.” maybe hallmark? and i feel your pain, so eloquently written here.
March 30th, 2009 at 4:39 pm
just beth says:
I simply wanted to add my voice to the throngs of others in telling you that I care. I’m sorry you’re hurting, and please try not to compare your pain to that of others… we are allowed our pain.
Xo
B
March 30th, 2009 at 4:46 pm
For Myself says:
I’m sorry for the raw pain. Awfully sorry.
March 30th, 2009 at 4:47 pm
Deidra says:
I have felt just. like. that. But my expression of it was nowhere near as moving and beautiful. Thank you for letting us in. I am sorry.
March 30th, 2009 at 4:58 pm
anymommy says:
I’m really sorry. Write on too, Maggie, okay? Whatever it is you want, I really believe it’s going to happen for you. You shine.
March 30th, 2009 at 5:18 pm
Frogdancer says:
Well, I have no idea what it was that eluded you, but missing out on something that you’ve put blood, sweat and tears in for a year would eat at my insides too.
Maybe it’ll be one of those things that arrives in its own season… (not that it’s a very comforting thought right now!)
March 30th, 2009 at 5:25 pm
quin browne says:
((hugs))
March 30th, 2009 at 5:29 pm
Kel says:
I’m so sorry you didn’t get it…I’m sorry it wasn’t when you wanted it. There isn’t much comfort in the words ‘maybe next time’ but maybe…just maybe.
Hang in there….your in my thoughts!!
~K
March 30th, 2009 at 5:29 pm
Karen (miscmum) says:
I feel like this when I’ve had a piece of writing rejected by “The Gatekeepers” (becoming such a cliche, sorry I used it) aka a publisher.
I hope you feel better soon xxx
March 30th, 2009 at 5:34 pm
Sprite's Keeper says:
Your words remind me of last week and the rage I felt when something I wanted so badly didn’t happen. Instead, life continued on, while I remained standing still, outraged that life would continue as if how I felt meant nothing at all.
I’m sure your grief is more passionate than my situation, but it reminds me just the same.
Beautiful writing.
March 30th, 2009 at 5:55 pm
Missives From Suburbia says:
I’m sorry, my dear. I hope whatever it is — it comes to you in a finer form than you ever imagined. Unanswered prayers are sometimes the best gifts of all.
March 30th, 2009 at 6:13 pm
Julie Gribble says:
Maggie, I’m sorry you’re hurting. As always, your writing is beautiful, eloquent and touching. I hope everything works out in the end for you. You have always had time for such nice and comforting words for others, let our words help heal your hurt too.
March 30th, 2009 at 7:11 pm
Dalon says:
there are so many things in life that we can’t control … but there are times that we must grieve … it’s a human and natural thing to do … and healthy I might add!!
I’m sorry to hear things didn’t turn out the way you would have liked … doesn’t mean you should stop trying though!!!
March 30th, 2009 at 7:11 pm
Woman in a window says:
Shit. Everyone else seems ok but I’m scared shitless. You ok?
March 30th, 2009 at 7:20 pm
Kay says:
Maggie – Whatever it was, I’m sorry it didn’t work out for you.
You need to realize something, though – just because it’s not rape, or cancer, or divorce, does NOT mean it doesn’t hurt. You can’t quantify pain like that. This is real to you, important to you, and you need to stop trying to convince yourself that it shouldn’t hurt, or it’s not “bad enough” to complain about. It is, because it’s YOURS.
Just like the comments at violence unsilenced – no story is “worse” than another. Each pain is unique, but no less worthy of the feelings that come with it.
As for no one else caring? Uhm… may I be blunt? I’ll take that as a yes. BULLSHIT. Plenty of us care, as evidenced by the comments above mine.
**hugs**
Kay
March 30th, 2009 at 7:28 pm
pamela says:
To say “I’m sorry you’re disappointed” seems not quite enough. But a grieving sort of disappointed is really awful. And I am sorry. And I think you’re wonderful. Keep on your path.
March 30th, 2009 at 7:29 pm
steenky bee says:
If it’s what your heart desires, then it’s important, even if it’s just to you. This post was beautiful.
March 30th, 2009 at 7:44 pm
Avitable says:
Hmm.
It’s not cancer, it’s not divorce, it’s not a real loss.
Is it an African elephant?
March 30th, 2009 at 7:52 pm
Robin says:
I don’t know what to say, except that I one person, standing with you, witnessing. I see you. I get it, I really get it, that you’re hurt. And angry, And sad.
Keep walking.
March 30th, 2009 at 8:30 pm
Alison Veres says:
Woman, I hate to be the one to have to tell you this, but I think you need a kitten.
Stat.
March 30th, 2009 at 8:50 pm
Oh Maggie…. | How I see the world. says:
[...] My heart broke for someone I have never met today. I literally cried and cried for her. She is going thru devastating pain right now, and you can read about it here. [...]
March 30th, 2009 at 8:57 pm
Kate Coveny Hood says:
I always think of this as the My Life As a Dog defense mechanism. Remember that movie? The main character would think of all of the terrible things happening ine world to distract himself from his own personal pain. Because “it could always be worse.”
I do it all the time. And it helps a little bit – to put things into perspective. But it doesn’t really change anything, because as long as the hurt/disappointment/rage is there – it could always be better.
I hope it feels better soon.
March 30th, 2009 at 9:24 pm
flutter says:
The next time you tell me I don’t care, I will cheerfully beat the hell out of you.
I care THAT much
March 30th, 2009 at 10:26 pm
Zoeyjane says:
Flutter makes my tough exterior seem like I’m a copy cat, so I will only say that I know I’m not here a lot, but I care from a distance where I am.
Also, if this is in any way relating to your writing? There will be bigger and better, baby. Because you have a gift for typography of the soul without glaringly obvious wounds and scabs. That’s hard to come by – nearly impossible to write around a subject without identifying it first and capture the reader. You? Always do.
March 31st, 2009 at 12:36 am
Dory says:
I’m so sorry you’re hurting, Maggie. *hugs*
March 31st, 2009 at 12:40 am
Mrs C says:
I respect your pain and your hurt and understand. I’m feeling my own these days and want you to know that the quote by Louis L’amour made me cry a little (in a good, hopeful way). Thank you.
March 31st, 2009 at 1:40 am
Kelley @ Magnetoboldtoo says:
I know that kind of pain. And I have seen it in the eyes of those I love.
The deep crushing pain.
I wish I could take it away for you my lovely.
Now I need names and numbers
March 31st, 2009 at 3:17 am
Daisy says:
Do you believe in that Louis L’amour quote you put at the end of your post?
It’s not over. Chin up, young person.
March 31st, 2009 at 3:47 am
sizzle says:
We do a great disservice to ourselves when we compare our pain to other’s pain. I’m sorry you’re going through this, whatever it is. It matters.
March 31st, 2009 at 7:00 am
daysgoby says:
Heart-sick.
I’m sorry, M.
March 31st, 2009 at 7:04 am
Amanda says:
So fearful to speak, not knowing which room you are in. I remember writing to you once and asking a question. You responded and changed your path. You found things there, people waiting, different joy, a new way. I suspect that is there again, either in a new path, hopping back on the same path with mew perspective, or waiting patiently to reveal itself to you.
No matter what, I adore you and respect and honor any feelings you have, so long as they don’t suggest defeat. Ain’t no losing til the game’s done, friend.
March 31st, 2009 at 7:30 am
Mojo says:
I dunno if this will help or not, but the reason I came by here today isn’t the reason I usually come by. Usually as soon as my blogroll says there’s a new post on OFD I come running over here like a greedy kid with a sugar jones who’s just gotten a dollar for the ice-cream truck. But I’ve been slammed the last two days and didn’t see you leap to the top of my list. In fact, I noticed that you’d posted (17 hours ago) when I was heading here anyway. Why’s that? Glad you asked.
I recently got an invitation to be interviewed on David McMahon’s Sunday Roast. Which is only relevant because one of his questions is “What’s the most significant blog post you’ve ever read?” And I was coming over here to get the link and the title to answer that question when I saw this post. At which point I stopped writing my response to the interview question just so I could respond to it.
And babe, that’s as serious as I get. And it doesn’t matter if it’s cancer or a hangnail. What matters is that someone I respect, someone I care about is hurting. That’s all I need to know. That’s the only thing that matters. I can only guess what’s at the root of it, and the guesses run the gamut from the innocuous to the truly sinister but whatever it is, you will overcome. ‘Cause you’re just a rockstar that way.
Look around you girl. You’re taken plenty seriously. And well loved too.
March 31st, 2009 at 7:32 am
we_be_toys says:
I get this, jesus do i get this. Try on 46 years and still no one takes you seriously. But what else is there to do but keep on with what you love, what you dream?
I like to tell myself that many true artists, and I’m sure that applies to writers as well, never see fame in their life, but they wrote or painted because they had to.
I know, cold MF comfort, isn’t it?
I think you’re a wonderful writer, for what it’s worth.
March 31st, 2009 at 9:23 am
racheld says:
I care so deeply that it cuts from this far remove.
I know it was words—they’re not a heart attack or a divorce or a child’s welfare, but the slighting or the leaving by are as deep a slice as cleaving a melon, to leave it bleeding its juices over the board.
However the words were intertwined in it—a place, a job, a recognition, a position unclaimed—there’s loss in your voice—the voice of a people, reaching deep for what should have been—I KNOW the edge of that sword. It’s akin to a passer-by’s comment that your baby is ugly.
And ALL—ALL your offspring are beautiful and brilliant—the ones that walk around with your heart in their hands, and your bright golden words on the page.
Oh, yes. We care.
March 31st, 2009 at 9:48 am
brookem says:
i’m so sorry that you’re going through such a tough thing. i hope that through your ever articulate and profound writing, along with the fact that you know that we all care, will help you to get through this.
March 31st, 2009 at 9:50 am
Postmarc says:
Collectively we are parsing every word, prying apart the lines tto see what cannot be seen between them, because your hurt is our hurt, because you made the choice you always have made. You generously share the with us the up-down-happy-sad-big picture-minutae-philosophical-humorous-serious-whimsy-always amazingly intelligent world of Maggie.
Remember this. There is an army of love standing behind you right now. If you get tired trying to get closer to the top of that hill and think you can’t make it, think again. We got your back.
March 31st, 2009 at 11:58 am
Neil says:
I’m not sure what this is you are talking about, but I am going to assume that it is some sort of project, maybe a writing project that went sour, that you have poured your heart into. And if that is the case, than there is nothing wrong with you saying to yourself, “It isn’t as big as divorce, cancer, etc.”
Despite what some commenters seem to be saying, I think it is good to create a “hierarchy of pain,” so as to remind ourselves that our personal hurts and dreams are important, but not always on the same level as illness and tragedy — even if revolves around our career goals. I think it also helps us make sense of the world and what is important. As my mother might say, “If you have your health, you have everything.”
That said, I am also a believer that all pain should be taken seriously, and we should empathize, even with the wealthy stockbroker who just lost his job at Goldman Sachs. While it is easy to dismiss his hurt as un deserving during a time when others can’t pay their rent, there is enough love going around to understand that if he feels pain, it is real pain.
So, for all we know, this post is about you breaking you fingernail before your high school reunion. While it might seem silly, if you really felt intense pain over this matter, I would still feel for you, maybe not as much as the person with cancer, but enough to say I care.
And if this is about some writing project, I’m not that worried about you, despite the pain, since clearly your writing was meant to be cherished by many.
March 31st, 2009 at 12:01 pm
Maria says:
Disappointment, to me, is the strongest emotion. It ties in with all other negative ones. Even when feeling rage or fear or sadness, you’re still feeling disappointed. Disappointed you’re not happy, not satisfied, not safe. There’s no shame in feeling so bad.
Your writing, by the way, is immensely inspiring.
March 31st, 2009 at 1:18 pm
Alison Veres says:
Two kittens would be even better.
March 31st, 2009 at 1:22 pm
Vicky says:
Just standing in the fire with you Maggie. Looks like a lot of us are. Powerful writing. Evocative. Beautiful as always. I am there with you.
March 31st, 2009 at 7:47 pm
Kelly says:
Ouch, babe.
But see? “then why does it feel like it, this too shall pass, nobody else cares about this, count your blessings, don’t be an idiot, walk on, walk on, walk on.” There’s beauty in pain, too. Though we push back, fight it, try to top it, as we should.
Whatever it, walk on, write on. We’ll be here.
April 1st, 2009 at 7:58 am
HeatherPride says:
I got a pretty big disappointment this week too. But that’s ok. We’ll keep going, right? And have a little faith that there’s something else, something bigger, right around the corner. Hang in there with me.
April 1st, 2009 at 8:35 am
Lady Fi says:
Not sure what the disappointment is about.. but hang in there! You’re a rare and talented writer!
April 1st, 2009 at 10:22 am
fancy feet says:
It matters.
April 1st, 2009 at 10:42 am
David Levine says:
So you can be the internet troll all by yourself? It takes an internet to make a village. Whatever it is it sounds like you “processed” it on the spot, like the snow off the windshield.
Buck up Maggie. It will happen soon.
April 1st, 2009 at 11:01 am
Don Mills Diva says:
Whatever it is, I feel certain you deserve it.
April 1st, 2009 at 2:02 pm
Melissa says:
It’s not silly if it’s important to you. It’s yours and it’s in your heart. Keep moving forward. What you dream will come.
April 1st, 2009 at 3:31 pm
Musing says:
I try and not compare pain, because there’s always someone who’s got it worse.
If you’re hurting, you’re hurting.
I hope in time you’ll find a measure of comfort.
April 1st, 2009 at 4:31 pm
Mr Lady says:
If it’s any consolation at all, this year you got my heart.
April 1st, 2009 at 8:00 pm
Mom says:
Well, hell. “They” screwed up. You shoulda got it, but they blew it. I know the feeling and all the accompanying feelings (for things less important than yours.) It does subside, but it Does hurt and it isn’t right and there’s nothing we can do about it. Somewhere down the line I know you will get something even better. Like everybody says above, you are the best. and we all know it.
And we love you.
April 1st, 2009 at 8:06 pm
chanda says:
“Now is the Winter of our discontent.” It seems to be everywhere these days. I’ve been drowning in my own corner of the pool myself. For whatever it’s worth, I (we) do care, and whatever this lost desire is, on the other side of this pain will be what you found instead. What you would not have found had you not lost this opportunity. It will be better.
April 2nd, 2009 at 8:14 am
Robin says:
Hi Maggie.
Sorry you’re hurting. I hope things get better soon. Your writing is lovely…
April 2nd, 2009 at 10:55 am
Sarah says:
Lovely quote.. It is only the beginning. This may mean there are bigger and better things to come, and whatever it was you were hoping for, this wasnt the right time. Sorry, I cant find the words to be more comforting.
April 2nd, 2009 at 11:30 am
kelly says:
Whatever it is…I would guess you are not alone. Still, hate to see it hurt so damn much for you.
April 2nd, 2009 at 6:10 pm
Miss Britt says:
So what if it’s not cancer?
Or rape?
Or a heart attack?
Where did we get this idea that we have to apologize for our longings and our disappointments? When did we enter into this competition over suffering – some sort of bizarre measuring stick that decides what’s “really bad” and what’s worth hurting over?
We are entitled to our dreams and our disappointments.
On any scale.
April 3rd, 2009 at 10:45 am
bejewell says:
Struggling with my own “I want it so much I can taste it” at the moment — knowing it’s a longshot and trying to accept that, cursing the ever-present hope that I know will just lead me to heartbreak. Very much feeling your pain right now. Hugs.
April 3rd, 2009 at 10:56 am
Angela says:
Sorry you are going through this time…secretly wish I knew what it was, but also love the way your portray your private pain. Sometimes we don’t need to know everything…
I feel like that at my work sometimes….if that makes you feel any better. And really not to be whiny about my work….because at least I have a job, right. Although it is the most stressful thing you can imagine. Just imagine…separating a heavy Boeing 747 carrying over 300+ passengers at 36,000 ft. and they declare an emergency and everything you say and do it SO critical AND to top it off there is traffic all over him at all altitudes. Talk about stressful. That was my day today.
April 3rd, 2009 at 9:56 pm
Emily R says:
as you know, this is just how i feel about my book right now…
April 4th, 2009 at 7:57 am
Aubrey says:
<3
unexpected for you to belittle your needs
they have lives of their own, you know
giving love
<3
April 4th, 2009 at 5:43 pm
Fran says:
If it is right for you, it will come.
Even though I don’t know *specifically* what you are talking about, I know what you mean.
April 5th, 2009 at 12:16 pm
jen says:
wow. according to all of those people up there … before me … there are an awful lot of folks that are standing behind you and supporting you.
and they write amazingly eloquent comments too.
even if it isn’t cancer or car accidents or rape …
you are allowed to feel and express the pain that it gives you. that’s the joy of having your own blog …
and people come back because they do care …
and fate … well she has a funny way of doing what she wants, even though we often try our best to control her.
April 7th, 2009 at 12:32 pm
Emerald says:
What a perfect quote to end with. I hope that whatever it is, it gets better soon. Or tolerable, at least, maybe even just tangible. For what it’s worth, your writing has become incredible, it’s leaps and bounds of talent every time I visit. Keep going.
April 7th, 2009 at 5:35 pm
Carrie says:
Whatever it is, you can get through it – and I think I know exactly what you mean.
You can’t taste the honey without the bitter…I heard that in a song today.
April 7th, 2009 at 8:57 pm
Janie says:
I’m so sorry.
Know that tons of people love you and care. And I’m one of them, though I don’t get to drop by often enough!!
April 8th, 2009 at 3:08 am
merlotmom says:
I’m sorry whatever it was upset you so. If you want it that badly it will come to you. Keep working at it. Fight through it. Louis L’amour was right. (now if i could only believe that for myself).
April 11th, 2009 at 7:06 pm
tammigirl says:
Here is something I learned in what now feels like another lifetime:
A bit of how it evolved. I was very young. Early twenties. With two baby girls. Money was tight. By tight I mean “I hope I get babysitting so I can buy groceries” tight. I was at a meeting where this lady was lamenting how she was losing her nanny and how on earth was she ever going to find anyone as wonderful and loving and perfect for her family and the world than this nanny she was losing? I sat there seething. Wishing I could have her ‘problems’. I hated her for being so careless with my feelings, my problems. Talking on and on and on about this nanny issue as if losing “Mary Poppins” as she referred to her was really a sign your life had taken a turn for the worse.
But I sat. And I listened to her. And later I realized she was very much upset. She felt like her life was spiraling out of control. She was afraid for the future happiness of her children. She wanted to protect her family. To her, this was not only a very real crisis, but a crisis of epic proportions.
So now I remind myself and others “Your biggest problem is just that – your biggest problem. Makes no difference what it is, if you are hurting, you need to express. You need to find relief”
So there’s my sermon. I usually save it for very close friends and family members. But what they heck?
April 26th, 2009 at 8:59 am