I had to think that out in my head, vul-ne-ra-bility; like Wed-nes-day. We’ve all done that right?
I don’t follow many blogs but the few I do follow, I actually do make a point of reading their posts. I know many people follow blogs just for the comps or the racy posts but I follow you endearingly. I might not read all your posts but I can promise to always skim. The reason for this post is because I have noticed that many bloggers don’t blog about feeling sad or vulnerable. Yes, blogging is vulnerable but it’s funny vulnerable. Relatable vulnerable. Hardly ever sad vulnerable. You’d be hardpressed to find a blogger blogging about feeling sad. Just because. That is why I blog. Not because I don’t enjoy it but rather because I do. It’s like my own not so personal online journal. It’s easier for me to type this on my WordPress phone app than to type this out on my laptop because then there would be opportunity for me to dumb down how fuckin sad I am. My best friend / non biological sister passed away 4 years ago, when my daughter was about 6 months old. Yesterday, 17 August 2016, was the first time since then that I stepped into the church where her funeral service was held. It was a memorial service. For her dad. It was hard man. A flood of emotions. I could not contain myself but I had to. I could not allow myself to mourn for her or her dad when her mom was sitting just a few feet away from me. Steel faced. Not a tear escaping her ducts. Now, she most probably cries her eyes out at home. In private. That’s ok. We all deal in our own way but I could not allow myself to break down, there in that church, when everyone else (brothers and aunts) were on the surface ok. I could not be the one. I would not be the one. I needed to be the one though. To just cry. Snot and trane. Sobbing heavily. Heaving. Trying to catch my breath. The thing is. I am sad. Heartbroken. I need a hug. A hug where I just collapse. A safe hug. A non judgemental comforting tissue ready hug. The thing is. I miss her. I miss him. I miss out. On chances to show people I care. To connect. To be apart of something. Truth is. I don’t mourn. I move on.