Since I began publicly sharing my family’s journey, there have only been a handful of moments where I’ve questioned if I should really be as open as I am. Those dubious posts were often emotionally depressing and I worried that expressing my pain and anxiety was an act of selfishness. That I would be unfairly bringing the reader into a negative head space with me. Not to mention that the last thing I ever want is for people to pity me. Perhaps the latter is inevitable but I am a warrior mama gosh dang it! In the end, I’ve always chosen to lay it all out there and I am so glad that I have. Last week’s post about Mother’s Day was no exception. Your responses and affirmations were the rope ladder I needed to pull myself up out of my rabbit hole. They also reminded me of one of my guiding truths: I am just not that special.

Every week people tell me how strong I am, how brave I am for sharing on my blog. Yes, I am honest and blunt but I am protected by this not so secret piece of knowledge. Sure, as we were taught as children, we are all special. On a micro level the way we look and the details of our lives make us unique. Is there someone out there that found out their daughter had epilepsy the same week their husband booked the role of Hamilton in Chicago, moved across the country for said job, fought tooth and nail for her daughter, lost her to an unknown neurodegenerative condition three years later, then found out they had to leave Chicago to go back to the East Coast because her husband was going to be Hamilton on Broadway? Probably not. That story is uniquely mine. But have other people fought for their medically complex child? Have other people lost a child or a loved one? Have others had to move cross country several times for a spouse’s job? Absolutely. I am still unique in all the ways I was taught in Kindergarten but I‘m not under any misconception that I am special enough to be the only person feeling the way I do. My grief, my anger, my determination, my joy, and all the thoughts that come along with them are not unique to me. I am not brave in sharing them because I know that I am not alone in feeling them. I am just not THAT special.

I am motivated to share through my writing for several reasons: the most basic being that I need to reinforce to myself that I’m not alone in my thoughts and emotions. By sharing and then seeing the responses I am lighting a candle for myself. I am bringing light into whatever anxiety filled rabbit hole I find myself that week and because of that light I can see all the beautiful faces that surround me. I also share because, in lighting that candle, I hope that others who have tripped into their own holes see that they are not alone either. 

What is it that holds us back from sharing? Why are we so afraid? In part I imagine it is that we are concerned with how we will be perceived: weak, damaged, hurting. Or perhaps we don’t want to be seen as complaining or annoying. But through the responses to this blog l have learned that in acknowledging vulnerability there is true strength. The kind of strength that is desperately needed to heal. Let’s get real, very few people have fixed a problem they wouldn’t acknowledge existed. So, instead of holding those emotions inside, share them and then make an honest effort to use the resulting strength to heal. Look, this is not a ground breaking revelation, support groups, Anonymous programs and devotionals have been providing this outlet for years. Consider this a gentle reminder that in these unprecedented times of emotional strain it is important to share now more than ever. Find your people who can relate to you. They are out there and they will lift you up and you will do the same for them simply by sharing, listening and holding space together. I promise you there is someone out there who understands your emotional experience, because, you know what? As amazing as you are, and you are really freaking amazing, you just aren’t that special. And how beautifully human that is!