disclaimer.

In a previous job, I once heard the advice that it was more wise to talk about the things you struggle with once you're at the other side of them. Share the victories. The things I learned. This advice was given in context of sharing as a professional, so perhaps there is some wisdom there that I'm glad I was able to glean from at the time. But I've struggled to decide when was the "wise time" to share about this current struggle. Particularly in this venue.

I've always been a "writer". I have a rubbermaid bin filled with my journals from the past, which I periodically look back on. It's how I've processed my life in the past. Not worried about being on any particular "side" but writing about my thoughts and emotions now. Somewhere in adolescence that started to change. When I went away to college, my sister designed and created a journal for me, and inscribed on the inside cover that it was for me to write without worrying about messing up the pages... when did I become so careful about expressing my every thought? so afraid I wouldn't explain myself right?

I filled that artfully created journal, and a handful of other ones throughout my college and post-college years. In grad school, I started journalling again with a vengeance. I was living. In the moment. I felt alive. There was much to think about, write about, process.

When I got engaged, I remember telling another sister that I felt like everything was going by too quickly. I didn't have enough time to write, and I felt like I couldn't process everything that was happening! She encouraged me that I would have time later to write. That I wouldn't forget all that had happened.

When I got married, I stopped writing. My husband gave me a journal as a wedding gift and inscribed in it that it was for me to record all the happy things that happened in our married life together. I did write on different occasions, but I was afraid to write and process the things that happened that weren't what I expected. Were they worth writing about?

I've always had a sense that I had an audience. Even in my journals. ha. "what if someone picks this up and reads it someday? a granddaughter. a great-granddaughter..." or, some days I wrote out my prayers. Having an audience keeps me honest maybe. Motivates me to explain my thoughts. But maybe doesn't allow me to be honest? Totally open and defenseless?

So while I've thought about "blogging" my walk through this experience, all these thoughts challenge or question whether this is the right time. My motivations are many, I suppose: to express my thoughts and have a place to do so; to put a voice to this lonely experience; to find support; to take a risk; to learn.

I'm not "on the other side"... and when will I be on "the other side" of this one? To be honest, I have some pretty stringent terms of what I'd hope that "other side" looks like, and quite frankly, if it means coming to terms with barenness, I've not been sure I'd ever actually start writing. And maybe that's my process, and maybe there's another answer I haven't quite imagined.

If you'd like... journey with me.