Why I Write, and Why I Stop

When I started writing this blog about a year and a half ago, it was out of a moment of desperation. I felt incredibly isolated and misunderstood, and I was desperate to make people understand, even if just a little bit. Over time, the topics and words have flowed pretty easily. Sometimes, it takes some time and effort to describe something that I think is impossible to explain, but for the most part, I sit at the computer and furiously type because the words and feelings just come.

Over the past couple of weeks, that hasn’t been the case. I haven’t been as eager to write, and I don’t even know what I would want to write about most days. I thought maybe it was because I’d gotten it all out, which I know isn’t true. Or maybe I’m at a stage in my grief journey where the writing isn’t as healing as it used to be. Nothing I came up with felt quite right for what I was feeling.

And then I started to think about why I was writing. These desperate emotions of wanting to be understood have caused me to be pretty vulnerable. I bare my soul in this blog – the raw, ugly parts of loss and grief. Every time I write, I put my heart on the table to be examined and evaluated by anyone who reads about it. I’m not sure what it is that has made me comfortable with being this vulnerable in front of so many people, including a lot of strangers. It certainly was not my style in my Before Vivienne days.

For the first few months that I wrote the blog, I always pushed “publish” with a bit of hesitation. Each time I put my thoughts, heart, and soul out there, I wondered whether that would be the point when someone would tell me enough was enough. I waited for the judgment that what I was feeling was wrong, that it was time to move on, or to say something to minimize what I was feeling. I was always surprised that the judgment never came. I have no doubt that it was there, but at least the people who thought it were kind enough to keep it to themselves.

I don’t have any regrets about putting myself out there in this blog. I know that sharing my experience has helped some other people feel more understood and less alone. And I know that I have helped a few friends have a better understanding of how to help other loss parents in their lives. And because I have shared so openly about what we’re going through, I have received support from friends I haven’t spoken to in years.

But in being so vulnerable and sharing so much, I have to admit that it is starting to make me feel weak. I generally write about the struggle here, and I always wonder if the people who read it wonder how I get out of bed in the morning (sometimes, I wonder that too). Lately, I’ve been struggling with how this blog must portray my life vs. what really is my life. I want to be the person who works through their grief and loss and comes out stronger and more appreciative of life. When I write and read what I have written, I am not that person.

And I’m starting to feel that the blog is having the opposite effect than what was intended. I started writing out of a desperate need to feel understood. I continued to write because it was healing for me, and I really felt like I was helping people understand what it’s like to walk in my shoes. But lately, I feel the opposite effect. I find that when I write these days, I end up feeling even more misunderstood and isolated. Maybe I can’t get the words out right anymore. Maybe I’ve been through so much over the past 2 years that it has become impossible to make people understand. I don't think it's possible to make people understand what it's like to lose a child, followed by more loss, and ultimately being told you can't carry more children. I don’t know why, but I know that the blog is causing feelings that I don’t enjoy and I don’t want to feel anymore.

And so I think it’s time for me to step away from the blog for a while. I need to focus on the person that I want to become, not the person who I have been. Maybe I’ll come back to it, and maybe I’ll find other outlets that help me work through this grief journey I’ll be on for the rest of my life. I’m trying not to hold myself to what I think tomorrow should look like today. When I want to write, I’ll write. And if it doesn’t feel right, then I won’t.

You’ve all been so generous to read this blog and send me many encouraging notes and comments. I’ve felt a tremendous amount of support in writing about such a painful topic, and I’m very grateful for all of that support. As I’ve battled with this idea of not writing anymore, it only felt right to be honest and share where I am in my journey today.

Thanks for reading and for continuing to support us through our journey.