Monday
Aug092010
And This? Is Why I'm *Glad* I Went. #BlogHer10
Monday, August 9, 2010 at 12:45PM
Early Saturday morning, I stood outside the elevator with my new friend Kim.
Kim is an amazing human being with a purity of soul and an honest heart that makes you literally believe that there is hope for mankind. Yes, she is that nice.
Until Friday, Kim and I had one fairly brief offline interaction, but thanks to BlogHer we were finally able to spend time together this past weekend.
From the moment I met her, Kim was full of life and jokes and laughter. But, this Saturday morning, she was not.
She was in near tears. And my heart was breaking for her.
“I don’t think I’m ready... I don’t think I can do this...”
The sudden change in demeanor was prompted by a turn that the conversation had taken about a session that she would be speaking at on Saturday afternoon.
About grief.
See, Kim is a widow, and on Saturday afternoon she was going to talk about that experience in front of an entire room of people that she didn’t know.
I knew this already, and I’m going to admit an embarrassing truth about how I felt when I saw this session in the schedule.
I was thrilled when I saw names I love and recognize (Kim's and two more blogger's, Peter and Anissa, who I admire greatly and read) on the panel, but I had no intention of going.
I had no major tragedies with which I have had to cope.
I had no intent of being “brought down” at an event where I was anticipating growth and positive self development.
This topic had nothing to do with me, I told myself.
I was happy that my friends were going to be able to talk about their grief over things that had happened to them, but this stuff?
No.thank.you.
But Saturday morning, in front of the lobby elevators, Kim was nervous, scared and all kinds of uncomfortable feelings.
I thought, “My friend needs me, this a unique moment where I can make a difference for someone else by simply showing up.”
I promised her I would go, and I would be there for her. Because that’s what friends do.
So I went... shamefully oblivious to the fact that my “showing up,” while I’m sure it was meaningful for Kim and the other speakers at the session, would prove to be a far greater gift to myself than to my friends.
I went, I sat and listened.
To a woman who talked about how her son died of SIDS and her subsequent suicide attempt.
To another mother who spoke of losing her twins after several years of fertility treatment.
To a couple who talked about how they were handling the tremendous effects of coma/stroke complications in their life.
And to Kim, who talked about losing her husband.
It was awkward, at first.
I cried. More than a few times.
But, in the end, I learned something important about the human experience, community and even about blogging.
It’s true that we need to keep our eyes on the positive. Life can get messy and complicated, and keeping happy and fun thoughts at the forefront of your mind can act as a preventative medicine against potential downward spirals of darkness.
Still. Pain is real. You can’t avoid it, and pretending it doesn’t exist, certainly doesn’t banish it into oblivion. Most importantly, just because it’s not happening to you, doesn’t make it any less real or inevitable that it could happen to you.
And if we’re talking about death, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you can be assured that it will happen to you.
The medicine that prevents devastation from settling into the human heart to the point where we could potentially self destruct is not avoidance.
It’s embracement.
We must embrace every aspect of our existence as humans. Even the awkward, uncomfortable moments. Even the moments that remind us that our happiness simply hangs in the precarious balance of our circumstances.
We are a community.
Not of bloggers, not of women, not of mothers, but of human beings.
Tragedy? Death? Illness?
These are among the staples of our existence, they are not occasional occurrences to be marked with a Hallmark card and a bouquet of flowers. Those things will not make it go away, nothing will.
The only hope we have to lessen the pain of tragedy lies in acknowledgement that these things are constantly happening. They are an every day reality. I don’t want to be alone when these things happen to me, so I promise not to let the people who are experiencing them now have to do it alone, either.
Those who would avoid the awkwardness of tears and possible anxiety miss out on this beautiful opportunity to grow.
People get sick.
Children and husbands and wives die.
Telling yourself that it’s all part of God’s plan and sweeping it under the rug is just not enough.
We need each other’s experiences to remind us of what it is to be a real human being. We need each other's support to make it through.
Furthermore, there is intrinsic reward in shedding the idea that the only experiences worth sharing are the ones that give us cotton candy feelings in the pit of our stomachs.
We become real.
Real, one who acknowledges and embraces reality with courage and sincerity.
Because of this panel, I know that my realness will be steeped in the firm knowledge that my perception of life is not as I believe life ought to be, but that I truly know what it is.
In other words, I've traded the reflection of reality for a bona fide and true reality.
As far as I'm concerned, that's the most preparation any of us can have for a tragic event that happens in our lives or someone else's.
It may also be the only kind of preparation we need.
Kim is an amazing human being with a purity of soul and an honest heart that makes you literally believe that there is hope for mankind. Yes, she is that nice.
Until Friday, Kim and I had one fairly brief offline interaction, but thanks to BlogHer we were finally able to spend time together this past weekend.
From the moment I met her, Kim was full of life and jokes and laughter. But, this Saturday morning, she was not.
She was in near tears. And my heart was breaking for her.
“I don’t think I’m ready... I don’t think I can do this...”
The sudden change in demeanor was prompted by a turn that the conversation had taken about a session that she would be speaking at on Saturday afternoon.
About grief.
See, Kim is a widow, and on Saturday afternoon she was going to talk about that experience in front of an entire room of people that she didn’t know.
I knew this already, and I’m going to admit an embarrassing truth about how I felt when I saw this session in the schedule.
I was thrilled when I saw names I love and recognize (Kim's and two more blogger's, Peter and Anissa, who I admire greatly and read) on the panel, but I had no intention of going.
I had no major tragedies with which I have had to cope.
I had no intent of being “brought down” at an event where I was anticipating growth and positive self development.
This topic had nothing to do with me, I told myself.
I was happy that my friends were going to be able to talk about their grief over things that had happened to them, but this stuff?
No.thank.you.
But Saturday morning, in front of the lobby elevators, Kim was nervous, scared and all kinds of uncomfortable feelings.
I thought, “My friend needs me, this a unique moment where I can make a difference for someone else by simply showing up.”
I promised her I would go, and I would be there for her. Because that’s what friends do.
So I went... shamefully oblivious to the fact that my “showing up,” while I’m sure it was meaningful for Kim and the other speakers at the session, would prove to be a far greater gift to myself than to my friends.
I went, I sat and listened.
To a woman who talked about how her son died of SIDS and her subsequent suicide attempt.
To another mother who spoke of losing her twins after several years of fertility treatment.
To a couple who talked about how they were handling the tremendous effects of coma/stroke complications in their life.
And to Kim, who talked about losing her husband.
It was awkward, at first.
I cried. More than a few times.
But, in the end, I learned something important about the human experience, community and even about blogging.
It’s true that we need to keep our eyes on the positive. Life can get messy and complicated, and keeping happy and fun thoughts at the forefront of your mind can act as a preventative medicine against potential downward spirals of darkness.
Still. Pain is real. You can’t avoid it, and pretending it doesn’t exist, certainly doesn’t banish it into oblivion. Most importantly, just because it’s not happening to you, doesn’t make it any less real or inevitable that it could happen to you.
And if we’re talking about death, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you can be assured that it will happen to you.
The medicine that prevents devastation from settling into the human heart to the point where we could potentially self destruct is not avoidance.
It’s embracement.
We must embrace every aspect of our existence as humans. Even the awkward, uncomfortable moments. Even the moments that remind us that our happiness simply hangs in the precarious balance of our circumstances.
We are a community.
Not of bloggers, not of women, not of mothers, but of human beings.
Tragedy? Death? Illness?
These are among the staples of our existence, they are not occasional occurrences to be marked with a Hallmark card and a bouquet of flowers. Those things will not make it go away, nothing will.
The only hope we have to lessen the pain of tragedy lies in acknowledgement that these things are constantly happening. They are an every day reality. I don’t want to be alone when these things happen to me, so I promise not to let the people who are experiencing them now have to do it alone, either.
Those who would avoid the awkwardness of tears and possible anxiety miss out on this beautiful opportunity to grow.
People get sick.
Children and husbands and wives die.
Telling yourself that it’s all part of God’s plan and sweeping it under the rug is just not enough.
We need each other’s experiences to remind us of what it is to be a real human being. We need each other's support to make it through.
Furthermore, there is intrinsic reward in shedding the idea that the only experiences worth sharing are the ones that give us cotton candy feelings in the pit of our stomachs.
We become real.
Real, one who acknowledges and embraces reality with courage and sincerity.
Because of this panel, I know that my realness will be steeped in the firm knowledge that my perception of life is not as I believe life ought to be, but that I truly know what it is.
In other words, I've traded the reflection of reality for a bona fide and true reality.
As far as I'm concerned, that's the most preparation any of us can have for a tragic event that happens in our lives or someone else's.
It may also be the only kind of preparation we need.
Reader Comments (50)
I am a new, unafraid to admit, such a fangirl of you. And I wish I saw that panel.
[...] This post was mentioned on Twitter by MarinkaNYC, NYC Watchdog and Faiqa, Briar S. Briar S said: RT @Faiqa: Native Born: And This? Is Why I’m *Glad* I Went. #BlogHer10 http://bit.ly/bQR6Cz [...]
There is no light without darkness, no happiness without saddness, no comedy without tragedy.
The reason I love Kim quite so much is because the first time I met her she had a tiny urn of Gregory dressed as a ghost for Adam's party. This instantly endeared me to her.
She's an amazing woman. Her panel is the only one I wanted to see and wish I had been there to support her through. (Is a keynote a panel? If it is, then I retract to say the only non-keynote, because I would have loved to see you speak as well.)
This is what makes you a better human being than I could ever hope to be. I'd go to the session to support someone, but I would probably have to tune out the subject after a few minutes for fear of a mental breakdown of my own.
By far that was the best, most powerful panel of the whole conference and you did it justice.
Echoing what Finn said. The lofts to which our highs can reach can only match the depths to which we must experience.
Simply beautiful, and so, so true.
Actually, did you meet Kim at Avitaween 2009? She was there, which is when I met her. Kim is an amazing person and one that I'm glad to be associated with here on the blogs. Hoping to meet her again in person.
YOu did what good friends do, and you should be pleased.
I thought this was really well written.
Pearl
Yet another beautiful post. I can't say I'd be able to sit through that without crying my heart out either. You're an amazing friend!
That's wonderful. Speaking from experience, sticking one's head in the sand about loss isn't the way to go. I'm glad you got something important out of it.
Kim has been an inspiration to me since I found her blog over a year ago. I have met Gregory in his urn, and mourn a friend I will never have. But rejoice in the friend I do have in Kim.
I'm glad you were there for her.
I really loved this post - mainly because there seems to be such a seperation of people at BlogHer and those who don't go.
A few lines of yours:
We are a community.
Not of bloggers, not of women, not of mothers, but of human beings.
REALLY resonates with me. I live by the motto "We're all in this together" and that's not just for the people who go to BlogHer, but for ALL of us. Every single one of us that takes the time to be a friend. Be it online or IRL.
We have to remember. We ARE all in this together. No matter what.
It's awesome that you chose this experience as your reason for going to BlogHer.
Playing the part of the 'listener' to help folks share such experiences is a tough job and i can't think of a better person (than you) to be on that end of the table.
Love you.
I'm so glad you were there for Kim and that she made it through the panel with flying colors! It is only knowing that I'm not alone in these most sad of human experiences that keeps me out of the funny farm. It's assurance that you and my other friends would be there for me or Ty-man that makes illness and death just slighty better to stomach.
tears xo
Yes. And yes.
Also, a new fangirl here (so if you notice someone from Olathe KS steadily going through your archives, that is just me. Not a stalker.)
I am so glad that I was able to speak to you after your keynote. Throughout the gala thingie, I kept saying "I need to find Faiqa". I am so grateful that I was able to tell you *in person* what your keynote meant to me. I was telling Manoj about your post yesterday and I started crying again.
All of the courageous women this past weekend, willing to bare their souls in such a public manner, was truly humbling to me.
I'm so glad that you came away from this weekend with something valuable. Part of me was worried that you were going to go and then think I was stupid for enjoying the experience.
This is one of the sessions that I REALLY wantd to go to but was at a time that I had a session I NEEDED to go to... I will probably read the transcript (when I need a good cry).
I read the liveblog recap of that panel this morning. I really wish I would have gone this year. All of the panelists are amazing people and give us all courage to tell the stories that need to be shared.
Not that I need a reminder..but this shows why you happen to be one of the greatest friends that I have ever come across. I can actually say with pride that I am proud to bask in your faiqaness:-)
@jodifur, The feeling is definitely mutual!
@Finn, Exactly.
@Poppy, She mentioned the urn thing... it made me fall in love with her all over again.
@SciFi Dad, Oh, that doesn't make me a better human being than you... my American passport does. Hahaha!!
@Always Home and Uncool, Thanks. It was so powerful.
@whall, Beautifull said.
@Sybil Law, Thanks.
@martymankins, You're absolutely right... I keep forgetting that I met her there. Thanks for reminding me, I edited the post to reflect that. :-)
@Pearl, Thanks, I did what good friends do, but I feel got so much more than I deserved in return for my effort.
@jess; [the bottle chronicles], The people on that panel were amazing... listening was easy, I don't know if I could ever discuss heartache so openly like that.
@B.E. Earl, Me, too. I also got important stuff our of my visit to the BXL cafe. Who knew coriander was so versatile?
@bubblewench, I'm so glad it resonated with you and even more glad that you live it, as I have seen firsthand.
*This* is exactly why I love having you for a friend. You are a true friend, all the way, no holds barred and I absolutely love you to bits. I feel the same things for Kim that you do - she is also an amazing friend and I'm really glad I have gotten to know her. I wish I could have been there to see her panel.
@tariq, Awww, thank you. I love you, too.
@Coal Miner's Granddaughter, I feel the same way. Feelings of isolation and loneliness seem far worse than anything that might happen outside of us.
@nancy, hugs xo ;-)
@cagey, I loved talking with you, too, and am SO SO SO glad you found me. It kind of made my night.
@Avitable, Of course, I didn't think you were stupid for enjoying the experience, I can see why you did... I do think you're stupid for not liking Tupac and Snoop, though. Heh.
@jessica, You definitely should, it was awesome.
@Nancy [Fear and Parenting in Las Vegas], Truly, the courage to talk about one's pain and heartache in a public manner and with the intent of benefiting others is something I deeply admire... mostly because of my incapacity to do so.
@Sahar, Aww, thank you. I feel the same way, you're a good friend and I'm thankful for you. XOXO
@Faiqa, Granted we've never met, but from what I know of you, I concede that sharing through such tragedy may be against your nature, but it is not reflective of your inner strength. :)
You are a beautiful writer and I am so glad to have discovered you. I wish I had been at that panel, you captured it perfectly.
@Karen Sugarpants, I wish you could have been there for my own selfish reasons. Sigh.
@Scary Mommy, Okay, not to get all crazy, but oh-m-god-I'm-a-huge-fan-and-I-can't-believe-you-commented-on-MY-blog.
Ahem.
I meant, thank you.
Wow, now I REALLY wish I tried to sneak in to this panel. You are an awesome person and I'm so glad to call you my friend.
This is really good for me to read. I often tell myself I am not willing to deal with other people's grief on a daily basis because it brings me down and I don't want to be sad. Thank you for the reminder.
I'm glad I went to this session, too.
I love this so much.
Some of my dearest friends were on that panel and that made me so sad not to be there.
Reading this post made my heart simply soar.