Why I Write

I’ve had this blog for almost five years now. It’s helped me process an innumerable amount of things – postpartum depression, my grief and frustrations with Pook’s medical situations, the loss of my career and the unexpected death of my beautiful, effervescent mother. I have shared stories of crazy children, antics, my own self-doubt and anger and tensions in my life. And, of course, all of these things have been shared from my perspective – I’m the one writing it, after all.

I was running an errand for work yesterday and ran into dad’s neighbor. This is a person I consider a friend – my kids have spent time in her home, she’s absolutely lavished love on Bean and she was a massive support when Mom died. But yesterday’s interaction was… Cold. Aloof. There was none of the easy warmth I was used to when it came to her. I got in the car afterwards, puzzled. That was weird. Why was it so weird? And then it hit me: ah, the blog. She’s mad at me on dad’s behalf.

Here’s the thing about broken relationships: there are no sides to take because it’s not a battlefield. I’m not waging war against my father. I’m trying to process his loss in my life and desperately hoping for reconciliation. I’m trying to understand his point of view and, most of all, trying to understand why that view looks so different to me. Dad called my blog a “public spew”. Maybe it is, but it’s also just how I process. I don’t want anyone to be mad at him on my behalf. I know that to be true because I couldn’t write during the year of turmoil while he wanted us out of his house so badly. I couldn’t write about the things that were said and done because I couldn’t paint them fully enough to be fair. Doing so would violate that relationship and even now, I won’t do it. Things might be broken but I want to make them better, not worse. And I can only do that by making myself better. Which is why I’m here and why I write.

Brené Brown says that true empathy starts with believing the other person’s perspective. That’s where I’m choosing to start. I believe that all of us are telling our stories from the view on our own street corner. Maybe the view looks different from the other side, but it doesn’t feel less real to the person standing there. I am praying for my family and it’s healing. I am praying for myself and the strength to embrace the broken and sad little girl who misses her daddy. I am praying for my father.