Thursday, January 28, 2016

Dreams and Consequences

I always wanted to be a writer but I was always told that writers don't make a good living. Yet, it was writing that paid my bills when we lived in Israel. And it's writing that keeps me from going insane while battling dysautonomia. Sometimes I get sick of writing about being sick - so I like to write about other things...like my kids. I'm very cognoscente of the fact that one day my kids may read what I wrote about them - so I always try to put a good spin on it. I'm aware of the consequences of making my kids' lives public and I never want them to become public fodder.

When I was younger, I dreamed of being a famous writer living in Israel. I wanted to write books of my experiences there. But those dreams don't pay the bills, so I became an SEO person and a copy writer. THAT paid my bills - but it didn't make me feel like I accomplished my dreams. I started writing articles while I lived in Israel -  mostly articles for my job. But I never let go of the dream of being a writer.

Fast forward a few years, I got rid of a few blogs I owned because I just didn't have much to write about. Well, that's not true. I had PLENTY to write about but I didn't want anyone to feel badly for me. I never want someone to feel sorry for me based on what's going on in my life. I could write a hundred pages on the grief I went through when my mom died. I could write books on my experiences having this f*cking disease (which is part of why this blog exists). But I don't always like writing about that stuff because it depresses people.

So, in my latest published post, I wrote about having a kid who likes to go at his own pace while being a perfectionist.

He gets that from me.

He does things on his own time. In his own way. When he wants and how he wants. I both love it and get annoyed by it. Can any other parents out there empathize with me?

But there are consequences of putting your life out there. When it came out that I have an illness, many of my coworkers contacted me to wish me well or tell me of their illnesses, too. They told me I was brave. But I got some backlash from people I know (outside of work) who told me I didn't need to put it all out there. Yet, I did and it helped some people come to terms with being sick.

This time around, I'm hoping to feel that power of sisterhood that someone else is in my boat. Someone can guide me in the right direction. Do those people exist?

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