Inoperable Ostrichism

Okay, not really. But i have not really been able to write ever since losing the Q-man and my cousin this past summer. (Apologies to those who are offended for lumping them together, but in my heart, they are both gaping holes. Do not judge my pain.)

I am not usually one to avoid difficult subjects, or as my sister and I call it, “ostrich” (the action of sticking one’s head in the sand), but I keep finding reasons not to write about the things that have been on my mind this year. I will be glad to see this year go – it has been painful in so many ways, and it seems that every time I turn around, i see someone near me affected negatively by some circumstance or accident, or unforeseen crappy event. I think maybe part of that is that the events of this year for my family were so negative that I have on my dark lenses when I look at anything going on around me. I hate that.

I am usually one to try and not get bogged down in negativity. I come from a family of . . shall we say, ‘realists.” We are not a positive people. We save for a rainy day. We look at things with a critical eye. But i am aware of it, and I try, day in and day out, to be thankful for the things that i have and that are going well. But it is and always will be a struggle for me to do that. I have to work at it.

If you think i am irreverent or i make too many jokes when things go awry, you are seeing me fight my basest instinct to get bogged down in the shit.

Maybe that is why i haven’t written about losing my best friend this year. Yes, he’s a dog, and yes, I loved him so very much, and when I think of him, all i can think of is . . I am not ready to write about it yet. I am hopeful that I will get there. Or about what it means to live with the thought that someone you love was brutally murdered, and most likely knew what was happening the whole time.

I will never write about that.

I will continue to push that one down. It seems to get almost more unreal, yet never goes away. I think of it almost every day, in that quiet time when the kids are in bed and i am doing dishes. Every night.

I don’t write about these things because I don’t want to get lost in them. I want to look on the positive side. I want to be positive. Sometimes? There isn’t a positive side. So i ostrich.

And so I don’t write, because i have almost always sat down at Dogwood Girl in the mornings to write about the things that were foremost in my head. It was my therapy. I wrote them down, just as if I had cut my skull down the hairline, pried it apart, and pulled out the malignancy in my brain. But the issues weren’t so heavy before. These thoughts and images are inoperable.

I will get to the dog. I will write about him. The other? It is terminal. Not in the sense that I will die from it, but in the sense that I will die with it. [wipes tear from cheek.]

p.s. Wow. I started to write about what I’ve been up to since Halloween. And this came out. I guess the writing is good therapy after all. If you are still reading my blog, thank you. I know I haven’t been funny, or sentimental, or nostalgic – all the things that people say they like most about reading my blog. I want to be her, Dogwood Girl, again. She is still here. I promise.

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9 Responses to “Inoperable Ostrichism”

  1. Steph says:

    I battle the “glass half empty” thing also. It helps me to think of and write down something to be thankful for every day. I do it in my exercise log, but maybe I should put it in the blog. Hm.

    Glad to see more Dogwood Girl whenever you are ready.

  2. itchbay says:

    You’re entitled to write about, or not write about, whatever you want. But sometimes the things write themselves. And other times, the issues are just too big to wrangle with, too large for words.

    As for the joking to avoid the dark side, that’s human. We may not always be able to recognize it when others are doing the joking, which may lead to people thinking you’re being disrespectful. But I don’t get that vibe from you.

  3. Dogwood Girl says:

    Oh, i can be disrespectful. 🙂

  4. Julia Eirich Robinson says:

    Reading this — I don’t want to sound simplistic — but it made my heart swell. Subjects like these take a resolve and strength to write about. I admire you for putting your thoughts out there. I definitely have to be watchful for my tendency towards a too cynical eye… While I haven’t walked in your shoes, your writing made me feel …. less alone.

  5. Dogwood Girl says:

    Very kind words, Julia. Thanks for commenting! You are definitely not alone, especially if you are talking about the crazy bus. I am on that bus, too.

  6. Becky says:

    The holidays were hard for me last year. A few friends (and my husband) dared me to write about it. I found that putting it out on my blog helped me make a huge, healing leap.

    So, write. Even if you don’t publish it, write it.

  7. Monica Dodge says:

    Thank you for that blog post. It definitely struck a chord. I don’t read your blog because it is funny, sentimental or nostalgic (although your posts are all of those things). I read your blog because it is REAL and HONEST. And sometimes real and honest is funny, or nostalgic, but sometimes it is heavy hearted, sad and filled with pain. I hope you write more. I thoroughly enjoy getting a glimspe into your life and thoughts. You are a great writer. I find writing to be very therapeautic (although I am not brave enough to write a blog). Get ready to say goodbye to a tough year. You deserve a fantastic 2012.

  8. Dogwood Girl says:

    Thanks, Monica! That was so sweet of you to write. You can always write a blog and then not publish it, just keep it for yourself. The journaling aspect of it is v. therapeutic.

  9. Shannon says:

    Keep it coming! I always look forward to what you have to say. Thank you for sharing your life with us. Love.

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