What's going on.

Readers have asked me to write about Blogher, but I can't. I didn't have the BlogHer experience I wanted to have, and I can't pretend I did, and if I tried to relay my experience I don't think anyone would believe I was at the same conference as all those other amazing people who had such a great time. Because my experience had nothing to do with the conference, it had to do with me. There's something not right in here, and I don't know what the problem is.

What I know is that I'm filled with grief all the time, that I have tried the patience of my friends and family, that I have been less of a mother and wife than I want to be, that I'm terrified that I'm driving away the people I love, that I've barely eaten since I returned. I am sure anyone who saw me at BlogHer will be baffled by this post, because I do an excellent job of hiding in plain sight. But since then something has broken open, and I can't hide. Right now I wish more than anything I could take back the decision to go to this conference, take back the last few months, start over and give you whatever you're here looking for, the anecdote or joke or relief from your day that you probably expect, instead of this sopping mess who's struggling to compose these crappy paragraphs. Even writing this seems awful and self-indulgent, but if I can't be honest here and get this out I will never write here again. I'm barely hanging on, and I'm trying to make sense of what happened to me. Of what's still happening to me.

Please be patient with me as I try to get to the other side of this. I know I will, but getting there means wading through a stunning level of pain and I don't like it one bit.

Comments

[eM]

I don't know if this will surprise you or not but you won't drive anybody away, certainly not the family that loves you and not the readers who only wish they knew you and had something to say to make it better. I, for one, will be here until you feel like sharing something funny or sad or thoughtful or angry. I'll wait. I hope in the meantime, you are able to find peace. And I hope you find the strength to go find help if help doesn't find you. Take care.

[Kim]

Saying I'm sorry that you feel so terrible isn't enough, I know. But I want you to know that I (along with all your readers I'm sure) sincerely hope you begin to feel better soon. In the meantime, hug that boy of yours as much as he will let you. And then hug him again.

[methodpam]

Oh, Alice. I second eM's sentiments completely. We're not going anywhere and we wish only the best for you.

[ML]

Being real is beautiful. And you exude all levels of beauty.

[Kira]

People don't read your blog merely for comic relief, they read it because you are interesting and articulate - no matter what your state of mind. Just keep writing about whatever is on your mind. Maybe it will help these awful feelings. You are brave to keep it real.

[cloudy]

Thank you for being so honest. I am very sorry you have to go through this.

[chiquita]

hang in there. sometimes the only way out is through. you don't have to be funny or interesting, just take care of you.

[stephanie]

I'm so very sorry that life is so difficult right now. Of course you are right when you say you will get through it, and of course you are right when you say it will hurt terribly to do it. As a long-time reader, I don't think there is anything you could write to alienate me, but then I feel sort of like a parasite saying, "Please don't stop writing," when you are obviously having a hard time. I wish I could do something else besides post a lame comment to show you my support, but as it is all I can say is thank you for writing this post even though it must not have been easy and I hope that you find peace.

[rimarama]

Sending peace and comfort vibes your way.

[Not On Fire]

Please do not feel that we are angry or disappointed because you are going through a hard time. I only hope that know that it will get better. We are here for you are much as we can be. Please continue to ask for help.

[christy]

Lurker who loves you here. Your pain is palpable and we are all feeling it and sharing it with you. Be true to how you feel. There is no one path for Grief. Follow yours and one day you will come out of that dark place into light again. We love you Alice!

[allison]

Alice, I have been reading your blog for almost a year now, and it is one of my favorite places to visit, because your writing is so REAL and lovely. In some small way, I hope it helps to know of another reader you have connected with, even during a time when you feel so utterly disconnected with everything. Take care of yourself, please.

[anne]

I just wanted to send you hugs. Lots of them. Please don't make apologies....grief is a bitch and unfortunately a lot of us know that all too well.

[wonderer]

Take all the time you need, Alice. We'll be here when you're ready.

[Jen E]

::hugs::

[MomVee]

Alice, _you_ are more important than your blog, BlogHer, our expectations, and our entertainment. All of us who have ever enjoyed your writing feel like we know you, and we love you, and we want you to feel better.

[Carrie]

Keep wading, lady.

[Marguerite]

I am very sorry you have to go through this, I hope you will find what you need. Hang in there and take care.

[Jenny]

Alice, I am a long time reader and have never commented, but now I feel compelled to. Things will get better, and those aren't throw away words to just cover up the situation. Things WILL get better, and all you owe to your family, friends, readers, is your honesty. Don't feel like you have to put on a funny face, you have developed quite a following for YOU, all of you.

[Erika]

I'm so sorry you're going through this.

[Ren]

Oh Alice, did you know that we will understand because most, if not all, of us have been there at some point. We ache for you because we remember the phoney smiles that have been plastered on our faces while watching everyone else seem to so effortlessly exist. How come life is not as hard for them? Perhaps their smiles aren't real either.

A friend of mine told me to focus my thoughts on the person I loved the most when my despair became too much to handle. Sounds corny but boy did it help. I can not not smile when thinking of my girl, all 6 years, 50 pounds and 51 inches of her. I hope her advice helps you a little bit too.

[kelsi]

Dear Alice,
Take your time. We'll be here for you. And, we're just as present for you when you are funny, sad, angry, and even when you don't know what you are.
This community is more than just an audience - it's a great big beating heart that wants to laugh with you, cry with you, and above all, heal with you.
Be well,
Kelsi

[kate]

I think I speak for many when I say that the only expectations your readers have is for you to be your authentic self. Do what you need to to get through it, write or don't write. We'll wait.

xoxo

[Nichole]

I wish that there were something I could do to help you through this. If there is, please let me know.

[Heidi]

"Right now I wish more than anything I could take back the decision to go to this conference, take back the last few months, start over and give you whatever you're here looking for..."

All I am looking for here is you and your honesty. I'm grateful that you are willing and able to share your difficulties so openly. I hope that doing so is helpful to you in some way. There is so much courage and strength in admitting to "hiding in plain sight." Thank you for coming out of hiding here with this post.

[Mary]

Hang in there Alice! We are all pulling for you! I have always appreciated your honesty on this blog. I think you are so brave for writing so frankly about something so devasting. Its always darkest before dawn, which I believe to be utterly true.

[She Likes Purple]

We come here for you, period. And I'm thinking of you.

[Leeann]

Oh Alice, my dear,

Trust me when I tell you
that there are those of us
who know the feelings you are talking about:

Feeling disconnected,
like concrete,
heavy but impervious.

I once tried to tell my husband
that it felt as though I was wrapped in Saran Wrap.
That I could see people and communicate with them
but that nothing could reach through and touch me.

I felt separate, wooden.
Broken.

I can promise you that there is
the other side
and you will find it,
in your own way and your own time.

There are people who will sit by you
in your aloneness,
hold your hand,
and wait.

Love,
Leeann
niccofive.blogspot.com

[Ashley]

Thinking of you and wishing there was something better I could say. Take care of yourself and take all the time you need.

[Elizabeth]

I am so sorry things are so hard right now.
So sorry.
I would rather read your honest words, a million times over, than anything you felt you had to fake to make other people feel better.
This is your space to use to make yourself better, if you can. You get to use it however you need to.
I am thinking of you and so hoping things get better.

[cj]

DeLurking to add my heartfelt support to you and your family. Grief is a process. You are loved and respected by people you'll never meet and there isn't a one of us who has read anything you've ever written who wouldn't stand by you no matter what. Keep your sense of humor - it's critical. (with apologies to Mr. Mom)

[Slim]

We come here for you, the real you, not some whiskey-swilling 1960s comedy writer who's afraid of getting canned if he can't come up with the funny while his life is falling apart.
And you underestimate the effort it would take to drive away the people who love you. Sadness in all its twisted forms won't do it, so there.

[tea tree]

Oh, girl. You're just fine. It's not only going to be okay. It is okay and soon enough you'll notice. Meanwhile you'll be tiring and whining and sad and not so funny probably. And that's okay. If only we could get through life's sadnesses very linearly and gracefully.

[sizzle]

You will find your way in your own time. Be gentle with yourself.

[Festi]

I've not commented here before, but have been reading for quite some time. I had a very early miscarriage back in 1996. I said then, and can still say now, it was the saddest thing I have ever experienced in my life. I've had many other crises in life, but that was simply the most wracked with grief I have ever been.

It took months for that deep sadness/depression to lift, so please be gentle with yourself.

[Michele]

Worrying about us - your readers - is the last thing you should be doing. What you should be doing is taking care of yourself. If that includes writing something good, bad or indifferent, then bring it on.

But please do take care of yourself. Talk to someone - a girlfriend, a medical professional, a counselor - anyone who can help you through this dark place. Anything to get back to the "you" you want to be.

[anonymous lurker]

You just voiced what so many of us feel. You're fabulous when you are funny, and you are fabulous when you are real. I wish you didn't feel this way, but it's a comfort for those of us who also feel this way to know we're not alone.
I'm sure that doesn't make you feel any better either, come to think of it, but the shock of recognition as I read today's post brought tears to my eyes for us both.
Pain sucks. Do what you have to in order to deal. Your readers will be here, whether you're posting frequently or not.
Hang in there.

[meg Hatton]

After my miscarriage it took me a long time to give myself permission to stop grieving. I was still grieving when I was pregnant with twins. I felt like I would be a horrible mother if I stopped grieving. So I held onto it, like a badge of honor, it was the only thing left of the baby I would never have. I was taking a meditation class with my mom, and the instructor, who was chinese, said something that changed my life. He said that people in the "west" feel that they can't stop grieving. Like it is their duty to carry the torch forever. ( This is exactly how I felt ) Then he said that these people who won't let go of the pain focus all their energy on the pain, and things that need their energy go without it. I took this to mean my pregnancy, and my not yet two year old. Like I said, it changed my life. I gave myself permission to laugh, and enjoy my pregnancy...no guilt about being pregnant...and enjoy my daughter...and my life.

I am not presumptuous enough to think that this is exactly what you need to hear, or that it will change your life at all, but just in case it is what you need, I thought I would share it.

If it is not what you need, I hope it did no harm. Everyone grieves differently. You need to go through it your own way and know that we all will support you through good thoughts and prayers. We just visit here to visit you, no matter what "you" shows up.

[Marcy]

Taking care of yourself and doing what's best for you takes so much more precedence than entertaining us. No need to apologize.

I had a pretty rough time after my son was born, and I vented a lot on my blog. I worried some about alienating people and scaring them away, but instead found incredible support through them. I hope we can provide something of the same for you. I sincerely hope you find what you need and feel better soon.

[Bether]

Love and good thoughts in your direction.

Do what you need to do to get healthy. It's okay not to have a good time, and it's okay not to be funny. Take care of you.

[mary]

I am just so sorry. I had a very similar experience to yours about two weeks later. I thought of your post as I sat in the OB's office looking in vain for that little heartbeat I'd seen only two weeks before. I am still so sad about it. There were a few weeks in there when I felt okay, and then I suddenly realized that underneath it all--no, I wasn't anywhere close. In the meantime I have re-read the posts you made right around that time and they have so perfectly articulated how I felt/how I feel. So I for one am so thankful for your honesty and that you are telling us what's really going on. Take care of yourself; you and your family are in my thoughts.

[Anna]

Please take your time. You need to take care of yourself right now. Don't worry about us--we'll still be here when you get back. We support you, and are grateful for all you share with us.

Peace be with you.

[Paige]

Alice, I have never miscarried but I suffered tremendous post partum depression after my daughter that rendered me almost non-functional. I hate to think of anybody in pain emotionally and I will be thinking of you. Lean on your loved ones and friends and, if need be, find a good doctor to help you with the depression. I'm sorry you are suffering. I have been there and there is sunshine waiting for you. I know there is.

[Nicole]

I am so sorry you are having such a hard time. I hope things get better for you soon.

[Sandra]

What a touching post. I don't know you or anything, but I have the urge to take your hand and tell you it's going to be all right. Hope that's not too creepy. Or pollyannaish. It's gonna be OK.

[Kristen]

Oh Alice. I'm so sorry you are having to deal with this, but I am glad to hear that you ARE dealing with it. We'll be here whenever you need us. We're not going anywhere.

[kim]

Yes, I remember that feeling. I called it "trying to run through a vat of molasses." I'm so sorry you're going through it. My molasses got thinner so slowly that I didn't notice. I don't remember it going away completely until my second pregnancy actually went all the way and I was watching my husband's face rearrange itself into that astonished daddy love thing. I hope yours goes away faster. And thank you for sharing.

[valerie]

hi alice, i've been reading your blog for a while now but haven't commented before (i think?). just wanted to write and say i'm thinking of you, and sending good thoughts your way.

[Rachael]

I agree with She Likes Purple - we come here for you, no matter what. I hope that you find the support and help you need to make it through what you're going through right now. (Hugs)

[SuburbanCorrespondent]

Aaagh - you are too articulate! You're reminding me of times I've felt similarly hopeless. You're not alone, and it is a tough road. Loss is loss is loss. You are allowed to grieve!