Greetings KuKd'ers, TTC'ers and Inquisitive Guests!
Thank you, first, for indulging me in that last post. I'm talking about the one with the totally unscientific holiday assvice for the Newly Knocked Down. It was a weird and new endeavor for me, even a bit scary, trying to write that post. So I thank you wholeheartededly for playing along.
That post was kind of an experiment, really. Here's what writers and politicians and anyone else with a public persona seem to do: they use words, pictures, fashion, music, and other things to create an identify for themselves. It's like: if you walk the gangsta walk, you become a gangsta. If you talk the politican talk, you become a politican. Likewise, I thought if I said the precise right thing in the precise right way, I could become - literally - someone who knew what she was talking about. Imagine that! All I had to do was act the part, and BOOM - I'd be one of those wise, crusty old KuKd veterans with something marvelously insightful to say to my "younger" flock of fledgling dead-baby'ers.
I should say up front that when I wrote that post, it wasn't my intent to fool anyone. Those were honest things that I was thinking and feeling. They were things I wished I could go back in time and say to myself, frazzled and shellshocked person that I was 2.5 years ago. Things I would say to our future daughter-in-law, if we have a daughter-in-law, if she - by chance - got knocked down. They came to me from wherever it is in our hearts where newfound knowledge begins to form, and crytstalizes into something we're certain of.
But it got me wondering, with KuKd, is there...I mean....is there really and truly any advice, assvice, whatEVer, that is appropriate to give to the Newly Knocked Down or the chronically Trying-To-Conceive, both of which I percieve to be particularly vulnerable groups? And are there, in fact, some people who legitimately have more advice to give than others, simply by virture of their experience? And what makes me think I am, or could be, one of those people - any more than any other person of average intelligence out there?
During the lowest points of my KuKd days, there wasn't much that anyone could say to make me feel better, except for when my mom said: "you'll get through this." I believed her, and needed to hear that. But moreover, I remember going to a support group and leaving in a state of irritation, because the facilitator kept cutting everybody off to slather us with assvice. She had lost her baby son about twenty years earlier, so I suppose she had a right to tell us how everything would/should be, and what we should all be doing. But man, did that lady piss me off. I vowed right then to never be that person if I encountered a Newly Knocked Downer - the talking head that interrupts just hear my own obnoxious voice, pelting everyone compulsively with un-asked-for advice.
So in that last post, going back and reading it, I began to wonder: did I just break that vow? Crap. If I did, I'll be resting my embarassed head on Kevin's chest in front of our now-working fireplace tonight for comfort (actually no - the gigantic tumor-like appendage coming off my torso keeps me from lying in any kind of intimately girly pose with my husband, the poor guy).
It makes me wonder about my role in the public sphere, and how I might shape this blog into something more beneficial for the Newly Knocked-Down than merely, "check out this olive-oil bath I just took!" I wonder if I can give something back to the world that's truly useful, or if that would only come off as arrogant and irritating and saturated with unwanted assvice. Blegh.
* * *
There's also this, perhaps more pressing immediate issue.
This past week, I've been trying to write the final two pages of my book manuscript, and I keep hitting a brick wall of writers' block. This waiting-to-be-written section is essentially supposed to be a teensy-weensy, tongue-and-cheek advice section for pregnancy/infant loss. It's called, for now: "Appendix: Field Notes for the Newly Knocked Down."
Now, it's the worst feeling to sit in front of a blank Microsoft Word document, cursor blinking at me expectantly, and be literally unable think of a single solitary thing to say. Even after I go clip my toenails, pet my dog, eat a pickle, do some jumping-jacks, and pee a few inches of pee into the toilet, the words STILL don't come to me.
Which is why I wrote that last blog post. I felt the words were there in me, the advice-like things I wanted to say to the world - just a few of them. I just wanted to try out this particular persona and see if I could say such things in a serious way, without annoying myself to pieces. Could I write something that I myself would have looked at through fresh, tear-soaked eyes a few years ago and felt just a teensy bit better, not worse? Just writing it was a good exercise, because the very next day, the words started coming to me like a flood - and BANG - I began typing out that last section of my book manuscript like a keyboardist on speed. Ahhh, relief.
Maybe, just maybe (warning: I'm really pulling this part out of my ass, so bear with me), we all have a responsibility on our blogs, websites, books, cocktail party conversations, to give back to those "fledgling KuKd newbies" by telling them what we know in our hearts, in as non-intrusive and non-annoying way possible. I mean, those things that we ourselves wished we had known back in our lowest of low days. If there's a silver lining in all this, perhaps it's just that: when we go through traumatic shit, we learn. When we contribute what we learn to the general pool of knowledge, we help others. Some people, like Cara and Stirrup Queen - are at a point in their lives where they're ready to help others who are still just trying to survive the worst. Maybe my time for that is now.
Or, maybe there's no place for real advice in the land of KuKd and IF: perhaps it's all about how we find our own way, following our instincts and muddling through.
Oh, it all sounds so hippy-happy, doesn't it? Then again, 'tis the season to look for silver linings...or in the case below, aliens flying inside of silver linings (seriously, doesn't that one cloud look weird??)