I’m not usually someone who shares a great deal of my personal life, not even with those who are closest to me. Some reading this may believe sharing personal issues are fine, while others may think it's a bad thing. After all, don't we train ourselves to say, "Who really wants to hear about those storms of life?' But what if by sharing those storms they could be managed? Is it worthwhile to share any of your personal tribulations in an attempt to survive them? Or are we really to go it alone, and maintain that stiff upper lip?
I don't claim to have all the answers or even the right ones. Everyone must find the answers of how to and just what to share with others on their own, but lately my personal journey has made me consider a whole lot of questions about needing others, and the value of sharing life experiences.
Psychoanalyzing myself, my standoffishness about telling personal details of my life probably comes as a learned behavior. I grew up in a household that didn’t talk about personal problems, and my father was beyond stoic. If he ever hurt, or dealt with any hardships of life it was never known, not even shared with his children.
While dealing with this issue of “to share or not to share,” something seemed to fall into my lap. Perhaps I was meant to read this specific quote at this particular time in my life. It’s a simple passage, by an author unknown, but something about it spoke to me.
“Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass...it's learning to dance in the rain.”
I began to ponder all the storms I’ve waited out, all on my own, not allowing friends or family in on the turbulence within my life. Then I considered; wouldn’t it be much easier to let them in? I share my ups, so why not some of the downs. Perhaps it makes life a bit easier when we have a partner to dance in the rain with us. Perhaps sharing some of the things we’re going through, may in some way, help someone else who is suffering within their own rain shower of pain, or thunder storm of hurt.
Over the past ten months, I’ve been dealing with some serious health issues that greatly interfere with my quality of life, and they have even pushed their way into one area of my life that gives me tremendous joy. My writing. I’m not going to go into the laundry list of medical issues, but I will share this. Some of the physical pain I’m dealing with, drains me so much so that I’m forced to cope with bouts of being unable to think clearly. I’ve taken some prescribed medications for pain that made the cognitive process even worse. I found, that for me, attempting to dull the pain dulled my senses. For a while I became a living zombie, and one medication even induced hallucinations. Having those side effects isn’t quality of life either.
After stopping the latest round of prescribed drugs, I talked it over with myself and the most important person in my life. I knew I couldn’t be someone who doesn’t write. Writing has always been a part of me. To give up, and to stop writing, was and is unthinkable for me, so I’ve chosen not to take medications that mess with my ability to function clearly. The choice was simple. If a writer can’t think, gain access to that creative part of our intellect, and give in to our imagination, it’s impossible to write.
For now, I’m still in the process of undergoing medical treatment, with more doctors and testing to come, and I deal with the pain, the sleeplessness, the odd hours I keep, and write on my better days. My progress with kicking out story after story has slowed, but you know, that’s okay. And no matter what the days ahead of me hold, I can’t stop being grateful for all the good in my life, which includes being an author. It was only a little over two years ago I threw my hat into the romance arena, and received to my astonishment an acceptance for publication. Since then I’ve kept on going, gained some great author friends, terrific fans, and have really had a ball doing what I do. So no matter what, I’m happy for the progress I do make, for the good days I do have, and for the unwavering support that I’m given at home. But perhaps even more importantly I’m finally, even if doing it slowly, allowing people to dance in the rain with me, instead of going it alone.