My Story

Recent events have made me wonder about my story. There are many, many events that have happened and I'm sure I record not only the actual things that happen but also the way I feel about them. When I tell others, am I really telling them the facts? Am I telling them what happened or am I describing the way I want them to think about me?

A friend has recently suffered yet another loss, on top of two other big ones she's managed to live through. I wonder how she will someday describe these things to someone new, someone who didn't witness them, because the way I see them and her reactions to them seem to be quite different from her perceptions of the events and her reactions. I also wonder now about the things she's described to me from her past, things that happened to her before we met. Were some of these more horrible for her than she lets on?

And in this, I realize that my story can be whatever I want it to be. For months after my daughter died, I didn't want to be that woman, that woman who lost her daughter. I feared that would be my entire identity. Over time, as I met new people, I didn't always tell them about her. I realized a couple of weeks ago that it's actually painful to me for someone to not know about her. If it's someone I'll never see again (e.g. saleslady at the mall) it doesn't matter, but someone I will see repeatedly, such as a neighbor, needs to know so that I'm free to talk about her whenever I need to.

So my story includes my daughter--the good, the bad, and the ugly of it all. It also includes everything I went through, which yes, is sad and horrible but is real. I can't claim to tell the "real" story, what someone simply reporting the facts might tell. But I hope I'm honest, I hope I convey my true feelings and the impact it's had and continues to have on me. I am strong, I can make it through days and weeks and even months now without feeling that impact. But for two years, I couldn't see straight because of the grief. There are things from that period of time that I don't remember and probably never will. Other things I wish I could forget.

My friend seems to be working hard to try to make her story as even as possible, despite all of the horrifying events that make her life full of more peaks and valleys than she might care to acknowledge. I don't want everyone in the world to see all of these in my life, but they're there, and I hope that at least I'm honest with myself and those closest to me about them.