Everyday I receive messages from people all over the world. Many are comments of gratefulness or people sharing their stories. But lately there has been a rush of notes from people who are in distress. Maybe it is due to my lack of ovaries, so my hormones are doing a number on my emotions, but I can feel their pain. Possibly I could be a new super-hero that can sense when someone is sad and go rescue them…”Perky Parkie, Sans Ovaries”…hmmm, doesn’t have the same ring to it as “Super Woman.” Plus, who really wants to wear a cape? It would get caught in doors, get dirty all the time and let’s face it, capes were so last season. Digressing again…
From newly diagnosed Parkies, to spouses that feel like they are losing the person that they love, their words glow on my computer screen, saturated with hopelessness and fear as they drip onto my keyboard. At first I was slightly concerned on how to respond. Could I hear their suffering and then say something magical that would erase their distress that they were experiencing? ……I couldn’t. Nor could I say, “Ahhhh, yeah, good luck with that”. But what I could do was to be vulnerable with them.
Writing a blog can be exciting and superduper scary! It can feel like you are standing in the middle of a crowded room, completely naked saying, “Look at me! Nothing can keep me down…don’t I look happy?” But I came to the realization many years ago, that my job on this planet is to help other people and that this blog can become a vehicle to reach people.
When you hurt and are scared, when the pain gets too much to bear, you can type a message to me into the cyber world and be vulnerable. I won’t judge you. You have an opportunity to be open and share the agony you suppress just to make it throughout the day and look somewhat put together. If fact, you can use your computer to protect you. Nobody knows who you are unless you create a huge website full of pictures, set up a presence on social media, and write your most intimate thoughts for the public to read…. ahem…. like me.
So I know that I may not be able to take away anyone’s pain with a bedazzled magic wand, or my super-hero powers, but what I can do, is to be vulnerable with you. One of the many comments I get is, “You have been through so much…. I don’t know how you do it.” To be truthful, I try to give myself permission to have those breakdown moments. In fact, just this morning, I was walking my dog and noticed a family getting into their car for school and work. The mother was carrying the children’s lunch boxes; Dad was in the driver’s seat getting the car running and two adorable kids with their colorful backpacks bounced into the back seat. As they drove off, I felt a wave of sadness. My life never turned out the way I thought it would. I can’t have kids, I don’t own a house, and in fact I’m not even working right now! I stood in the empty parking lot, as cars race off for their day’s adventures and my big plan for the day is to take a shower. Sometimes even tears don’t take the pain away.
Thank you for sharing your most intimate fears and nightmares. I truly feel honored that you can expose yourself to me and find a place to be vulnerable as I have today.