Thoughts about this blog

I started this blog nearly four months ago, shortly after Sandy's memorial. I wanted a way to put my feelings into words and send them out into the world. I write morning pages for myself every day, but those are stream-of-consciousness ramblings meant to free my brain from tumbling thoughts and unarticulated fears. They're meant for no eyes but mine, and when I reread them, I often find them boring, incoherent, or inane. They've served their purpose, but that purpose is transitory. I envisioned this blog as an opportunity for more thoughtful reflection, and for a chance to share the grief process with others who love Sandy, especially those whose daily lives are distant from others who knew Sandy well.

The caption of this photo says it well - in
this blog, I've been trying to make some
sense of this mess, though it's not quite as
tangible or as easy to untangle as kite string.

In truth, I write the posts for myself, first and foremost. As I write, I know the words are public. But this is also a very safe place to be vulnerable. I'm aware that strangers may come across these posts and find them useful or silly or self-indulgent or overly sentimental. I'm grateful if my honesty can help anyone going through something similar, but I have no investment in the reactions of people I don't know.

I care far more what friends and family think, yet I rarely worry about it much. If you read these posts, you probably knew and love Sandy or me or both of us. And you're not likely to be reading with a particularly critical mindset. I'm surprised, pleased, and a little flustered when people tell me they read these entries. I'm glad you do. Even though I write primarily for my own therapeutic purposes, I like knowing that I'm not alone.

Several people have commented that they feel like they're on a journey with me. While I initially saw this whole experience more as a deadend than a journey, I'm now more aware of the transitions and progress I'm making, and more willing to accept the metaphor. So thank you, everyone who's packed a bag and grabbed a water bottle and joined the trek. There's safety in numbers -- and greater potential for insight. You're very welcome here.

I do have a request for my fellow travelers*. If you leave a comment without having a Blogger login (that is, if your name appears as Anonymous), could you include your name in the comment itself? Or drop me an email and let me know that it was you? There have been several beautiful comments that mean a great deal to me, but I find myself playing guessing games, trying to figure out who wrote them. I'd love to know who's joined the conversation, especially if you're sharing personal experiences or memories.

Thank you all, lurkers and commenters alike, for indulging me on these pages. It's helped me to write here, to have a public place to remember Sandy, and to feel more connected to the communities of people who know just how special she is.

*I love using the term "fellow travelers" given the current political climate, but it actually fits here, I think.