I Can Only Imagine

I recently listened to a podcast where the well worn phrase "I can't imagine" (what someone else is going through) was brought into focus and dissected. Of course we can imagine. If we are saying the words, we ARE trying to imagine. As I listened to the discussion, I immediately thought of the words "I understand" (what another person is going through) and how in people's desire not to assume what another person is enduring, could easily utter the words "I can't imagine" with the best of intentions.

When I hear of news that touches me deeply, it is most likely because it has touched a familiar chord and brings up my personal memories of a time when I was touched by a similar fate. I have been feeling deeply and remembering a time when I faced a similar situation a lot lately.

The loss of a parent is unique to each and every one of us. The relationship we have or didn't have with them; the arsenal of memories, good, bad or indifferent; the longing for what we had or wished we had ... the list is endless. Though we cannot assume what the one who has suffered a recent loss is enduring, if we have a parent (and we all do), we can try to imagine what it may feel like if we were to walk in those shoes.

I could fill a notebook with my own personal thoughts, reflections, lessons learned and significant memories to my experience but I want to silence my words. I simply want to listen. To hear what another is feeling as they walk into uncharted territory.

My story isn't important. I have walked a parallel path. I can empathize. I can listen. But I can only imagine what another is going through.

When I say "my thoughts are with you", I mean it with every fiber of my being. 

I can only imagine...

It's Not My Story to Tell

After almost three months of blogging silence, two months of writing morning pages and years of censoring my thoughts and words, the title of this blog post was born.

"Don't air your dirty laundry"; "Be careful what you put in writing"; "Don't give up your guts" are a few of the spoken and implied mantras I grew up with. I worked in the banking industry for decades where confidentiality was a part of my job description at the time and I have carried that forward into my present occupation. I hold confidences and try my best not to betray trust that has been bestowed upon me. 

In the past, I could pull the lesson from what life had in store. Something evolved over the course of time and the words, "It's not my story to tell" became my guiding light. 

I have tamped down my words, thoughts, emotions and reactions as I navigated this time of great withholding. It was this morning when the words came to me (at the end of my third page of morning writing). "My story is how I navigated my side of other people's stories. If I write about my journey, not theirs ... to tell a story without telling ALL ... I think that is the key. My side of the story. Learning as I go. Love and loss and parenting and change and acceptance and curiosity ... and the never ending goal of seeking JOY."

The path I have walked has been mine alone but the other side of the story is still a privacy I want to respect. There have been lessons learned, perspectives gained, a broader understanding and a lot of learning. 

"You need to write from a scar, not an open wound"

 ~ Glennon Doyle wrote this, but I'm unsure who gets credit for the origin of the quote

It is time. Wounds have healed. I'm writing from the right place. 

(the challenge will be to make time to write again)