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.










July 24, 2008
Reader Comments (324)
It is what it is and you're sharing the real you, and that's beautiful. You'll work through this in your own time, not someone else's timeline.
It'll be ok and we're not going anywhere
Do you need me to come over there and horrify you by trying to sit in your lap in a social anxiety-induced drunken binge and tell you now much I adore you? That's what was missing at Blogher this year. I just know it.
On a more serious (and sober) note: My heart goes out to you. You are a true talent, and when you write the truth, it moves people. I am so sorry you are in pain. I hope you find solace in your friends, loved ones, and professions that heal. Take care, Alice.
So ... I am sending you a virtual bucket of kittens ... because an actual bucket would be creepy and inappropriate.
It is worth noting that you were pregnant and that may have been more than enough to alter your hormones and chemicals so that you may be experiencing a postpartum depressive disorder. I know you used to take meds, I can't recall if you are currently taking any, but if you aren't talking to someone now, perhaps getting in touch with a women's mental health clinic would be helpful.
And, finally, if you need a safe place to publish your feelings anonymously, there is a cool site I found http://toohotformyblog.wordpress.com that publishes posts for people who are don't want certain stuff on their blog. It might be the right place to put some writing.
Take care of yourself.
I can't even imagine what your going through and how hard these past months have been for you. I hope things get brighter.
And we're here, with little life preservers. (I think I just made myself vomit from the pith. But you get the drift, right?)
What worked for me, aside from a pile of medication, was finding one single thing that gave me even a glimmer of pleasure, and doing it religiously, over and over. Gradually, the circle of things that gave me pleasure started to expand, and the feeling that someone was flaying my soul went away.
Big internet hugs. Please make sure you have help and go easy, easy, easy on yourself. Take it super-slow. It WILL get better.
If I could give you a fuzzy soul blanket that would make it go away, I would.