It’s not that I don’t care. With all of my heart, I do.I tell myself that in a world of so much sadness, that my writings about the most trivial of everyday things, hopefully delivered with a sprinkle of humour, brighten even one person’s day for ten minutes, then it’s worthwhile.
I had a fretful sleep last night, after taking my weekly inter muscular injection (and which deserves a blog post all to itself very soon). I did a bit of reading to settle myself and was drawn to a blog by a friend, whom I mostly knew online, although we lived within miles of each other. This friend, Margaret Wouters, died last week. I reread her posts where she talked openly about her various treatments for cancer, dotted among stories about family and the most fabulous photographs of her house and garden, that were worthy of a House & Home style magazine. I’m terribly sad that she has died, having fought so hard to be well. I regret that I didn’t get to know her better in ‘real life’, but reading her posts again made me feel inspired by her. A wonderful archive of this woman’s life.
Because I write openly about my experiences of living with MS, one person has suggested to me that I love playing the ‘victim’ and that I thrive on the ‘pity’ that I get from other people. When I’ve been told this, I reassure myself that it’s untrue, but at the same time, the saying ‘there’s no smoke without fire’, lingers on my mind. On a bad day, I worry that, subconsciously, maybe that’s what I’m doing.
On a recent post that I wrote, I described how I felt that I had lost my ‘Va Va Voom.’ It was the most revealing piece that I have written so far and I thought long and hard before I published it. And yet, it seemed like the right thing to do at the time.
Writing funny stuff is easy.
Admitting that you are struggling isn’t.
The comments, messages and offers of help that I received after I wrote that piece were heart-warming and lovely. In a way, it was a watershed moment for me, drawing a line under the unmentionable and moving on. I felt empowered and determined to keep writing.
Margaret’s death notice stated "Je ne regrette rien." I’m with her on that. Sleep tight dear lady.