Sharing opens our hearts

Someone recently told me I was very brave for sharing my feelings on my blog. At first I didn’t understand what she meant until she explained she always thought I was someone who had my life together who seemed unflappable and she’s glad to know I am experiencing the same things as she is. And then I understood.

There are some of us who carry ourselves in such a manner that it looks like everything comes easy to us. That we sail through life. It isn’t so. No one sails through life. Life knocks us all down at some point in our lives. The difference between those who look unflappable and those who don’t is the way we deal with those situations. No matter how many times we are knocked down we keep getting up like the Black Knight  in The Monty Python sketch who kept coming back and saying, “It’s only a flesh wound. “ Even though he had no arms or legs left , he didn’t want to surrender, to give in. He wanted to fight until he was no more.

And that’s what people who seem unflappable keep doing. The reason why I write my blog so honestly and openly is because I am learning through my blog what I am really feeling. Who I truly am. What I am capable of. And more importantly that I am not alone.

Writing exorcises so many demons for me that I don’t even know are there. It brings things to the surface allowing me to confront them head on. Not other people’s problems. But my own. Realising that yes sometimes people may mistreat me, hate me even. But it is up to how I deal with myself and my reactions to them that matter the most. I have learnt there is nothing I can do about them or any situation that is not within me because I can’t control it.

Writing has helped me to share because sharing opens my heart to the plight of others and helps them to open their hearts because they realise they are not alone. That no matter who we are, where we come from, what we are perceived to be, each one of us has his or her own demons he or she is dealing with because they are the essence of our growth.

I also know that my mother died at age 44 of a stroke because she was so proud and so private about her life that she kept her true feelings bottled up inside her. Possibly thinking her life was worse than anyone else’s.  Possibly too ashamed to let people know the extent of her disappointment with life.  She worried a lot. I now know that as an adult. Her face had that constant crease of sadness. Of despair. Of feeling like she had nowhere to turn. Until she went to bed one night and her mind exploded from the weight of her worry causing her to have a stroke. Followed by a cerebral brain haemorrhage one day later. She never woke up again. She died. She was only 44.

I will not do that to myself. I blog now because I know how difficult life can be sometimes but as long as I have an avenue to express my feelings, to vent, I am sparing my life for another day from dying of worrying.

 I am 48 now.  Almost 49. Feeling blessed and grateful for every day I get to share. Growing older with grace and wisdom. Knowing I am not alone.