I was reading deadbabymama's post about how people share more intimate things with her now that she's lost a child. And, being the insecure creature I am, I began to wonder if I am guilty of sharing too much with people who would rather not be a part of it.
I mean, I have this idea of grief and how I think people should be treated...but who's to say that that's the "right" way...who's to say that everyone should jump to my tune? I know I've suffered something other people can't even begin to fathom, but does that mean that I have the right to force my grief on them? Just as I expect my space when I need it to grieve, other people may want space to escape from the harshness of it. Am I merely playing on that old concept...the one I was forced to abandon a long time ago...if you love me then you will behave as I would like you to behave?
Have I, inadvertently, expected someone to accept my inner thoughts...my sharing of my feelings...because I've earned some special right to be selfish? some special right to share things with people that they would really rather not hear? does having a dead baby give me some special super powers that exempts me from having to consider that other people just may be tired of hearing me cry? how many people have listened to me, out of politeness, when they would rather really cover their ears and sing, "la-la-la-la?"
Further, I'm cautious about this because I've made some "friends" here through this blog (and my obsessive reading of other blogs), and I would like to think that I haven't become some strange person that people are secretly thinking should just shut the heck up. For example, meeting David on Wednesday and seeing his play meant a lot to me. It definitely helped me take a big step (or two) toward healing. But then I think, that's a lot of pressure to put on someone. Am I expecting him to be an expert of some sort just because he's been there? just because he's lost a baby? is it fair to think of him like that?
And there is always the secret fear, of course, that someone is thinking...shut up you whiner. I guess that stems from the normal sentiment of people around me who expect me to be "over it." It's so entrenched in my psychological expectations that I just can't seem to shake it. Do people step away from my writing and think...gee, what a kook? Have I shared anything that maybe I shouldn't have shared? Do the few people that I talk to wish I would shut up? Should I shut up?
Since Alex died, I have doubted everything. Not all at once...just most of my life...in drips and drabs...here and there...question after question. I have never really written for an audience. This has always been "my" place. If someone chose to read it, that was fine. But I never really censored myself for who might be reading it. I never really considered that people might think I'm a loon for some of the stuff I think and say.