This is probably the hardest blog entry I have ever written.
Normally, when I write, the words just flow. Once they start, I can't stop them. My thoughts, my feelings, my fears, everything just comes tumbling out to form some kind of a textual jumble on these pages.
Now, I fear that my words have become hesitant... simply because I doubt my own abilities... perhaps even my own desires?
Three weeks, five days and 8 hours ago, give or take, my whole world was fracture... not just fractured.. but shattered.
My daughter, my precious, beloved daughter passed away from cancer. She was 4 years old.
The day after her funeral, I found myself being accused of what can be surmised as 'pimping her out for publicity'.
The primary charge was because her death was in the paper twice within a week.
Apparently I was selling her out, cashing in on her suffering, and making parents of 'normal' children feel bad.
I have to say here, I really don't truly understand... but regardless, I was so very, very deeply hurt by the accusations.
The fact that they came via a family member was perhaps even more hurtful...
But ever since, now I find myself in the unusual position where even though I want to write, I am so filled with thoughts and emotions and fears and just general moments that I feel compelled to share... I now find myself second guessing everything.
I find that now, fear of writing is slowly crowding out my desire to record everything, to write it down and store it for later?
To be honest, right now, I really don't know.
I love to write, and it has been my writing that has gotten me through this so far, but is it fair that I continue if that writing is upsetting others?
I don't know... I really don't know...
In the midsts of everything else, the one thing I have always held fast to, my writing, is no longer comfort. Instead I am questioning whether or not I should.
Really, I guess, now, I just don't know which way to go any more.
I simply just don't know.