My totally unscientific observation about Facebook:
It isn't until you lose your child that you realize that a large percentage, perhaps even the majority, of Facebook status updates and posts are about pregnancy (complaining or otherwise), babies (complaining or otherwise) and kids (complaining or otherwise). It isn't until you quit drinking that you realize that the majority of the now minority of posts is about wine, beer, booze or getting loaded, preparing to get loaded, or in the process of getting loaded. It isn't until you stop eating gluten, wheat, sugar or anything interesting in your diet that you realize that the rest of the posts are about food.
I guess in the morning, replace the booze with coffee, except for in only the most extreme cases. Funnily, the posts about things I can't do right now don't bother nearly as much as my unscientific survey leads one to believe. I think it is more of a case of being the fool who points out that the emperor has no clothes. I actually like naked people, so carry on, people.
I am still blown away by the response on the Right Where I Am project. I guess everyone realized that the right in right where I am marks both a place in time and space, and right as in whatever you feel right now is okay and true and right. I fell in love with this community a long time ago, because being forgiving to you in your grief helped me be forgiving to me in my grief. You loved me until I could love myself again. That is the beauty of this community. My seemingly ugly, dark, nasty little thought that I tucked up into the vault of never-to-be-uttered-in-polite-society-because-it-would-horrify-people is echoed on a blog of a woman I love, or a man I read here and there, or some random post I run across and I realize that it is not so horrifying, or dark, or impolite. It is just grief. And perhaps by default, I am not so horrifying, dark, impolite. Ironically, I felt like a terrible person when Lucy first died, like a diseased, warped, pessimistic, anxiety-ridden troll. As time has passed, I have confronted a lot of my demons on this space. I owned a lot of my darkness. I resided in my abyss. I had no choice. I came out the other side. And on the other side, I am much more forgiving to myself. I am less harsh and cruel to me. I lost everything to gain some modicum of self-respect.
I could talk longer about that, but truth is most of you probably get this, I think.
Last week, I trained to be a MISS Foundation HOPE Mentor. It feels good to be at a place in my grief where I can abide and listen in a way that I couldn't in the beginning. My dear friend Kara, aka Mother Henna, has long been associated with the MISS Foundation, and the MISS Foundation founder Dr. Joanne Cacciatore have been incredibly powerful, compassionate forces in my grief. If you haven't checked out the resources there, please go. There are forums, local support groups. It is a space that creates love and support.
AND I am putting out feelers for a fall babylost event in the Philadelphia area. Probably the first week of October, maybe September. Next week, I am checking out a space to rent for a kind of babylost arts festival--poetry readings, essay readings, a display of the still life 365 travel journal, art, a collective arts project, connecting with other babylost mamas and papas, food, grog, and other ideas I haven't yet thought up. So, what do you think? Would you come to the Philadelphia area for an event like that? (Actually, it would probably be in Collingswood, NJ, where I live, since there is a great space, which is on the train line, and lots of parking.) So, here are my questions to you: what types of things would you like to experience at that type of get together? Would you come? Would you like to read your poetry or an essay (even a blog post)? What else...this is just an idea in the stewing...so I'd appreciate any feedback you can offer. I did put together a weekend long babylost retreat a few years ago that was awesome. I was thinking this is more of a day/evening event that would be like experiencing the on-line community of babylost in person.