I believe it is the norm for us to share our struggles after we have conquered them, our lessons after we have learned them. They say hindsight is always 20/20 after all. And to talk about something painful, when you are no longer in the crux of it, has always been a safer place to tell your tale.
This has always been the defaulted way I have shared the stories of my life too. That is, until my daughter died at 25 weeks of pregnancy and suddenly I had no choice but to share my story from the deep dark center of it. The thought of having to do that was incredibly unnerving and uncomfortable. I had no happy ending to pacify myself with, no lessons learned to lean on, no answers – only questions. All I had was the chaotic unravelling, the burning grief and the unsettling uncertainty of the unknown.
I once got an e-mail from a reader who once asked about the magic of life, how to see it, how to feel it, how to live from within it.
