It was only this week that I started to realize how closely these three concepts are connected in my own brain.
I have bronchitis. This is not a big deal, I know. People get bronchitis all the time. Children get bronchitis. Old people get bronchitis. They take their meds, they get better. Life goes on as usual.
But I don’t get sick very often, and I didn’t know it was bronchitis until the ER doc kindly informed me, after running a number of other tests.
Some part of me was afraid it was something more serious.
One of the reasons this has been so scary for me is the difficulty breathing. I also have trouble speaking, which means I can’t read books to my children or sing them songs. The ER visit also meant inconveniencing someone to stay with our children, and my husband stayed home from work to be with me. I don’t know if I felt more anxiety or guilt about all of this, but the two definitely reinforced each other.
This blog popped up on my newsfeed the other day, about a young mother to three young children, who was recently diagnosed with breast cancer. She bravely and honestly shares her experiences with the world, or at least I assume she does, based on other things I know about her.
I am not a stalker.
Anyway, it’s exactly the kind of thing we should all be reading. Strength. Humor. Great photos.
But I can’t read it.
I want to read it. I want to read it because I want to be supportive, and because I think it would be good for me.
But I can’t, because I am a chicken shit.
Grace is close to my age. We like a lot of the same things. We have a similar sense of humor, except she’s much funnier and more outgoing than I am. Our kids are fairly close in age.
I haven’t consulted my Freud books, but I think it’s safe to say this brings up some stuff for me. Apparently in a way writing about rape does not?
Anyway, I am not one of those people who turn away because I feel uncomfortable. Am I? Am I the kind of person who fails to be supportive because of my own issues?
I guess that’s up to me.
More later. There’s this blog I’ve really been meaning to check out.