depressing?

Recently, my sister and I were talking on the phone, partly about my blog. She told me that I probably didn't want to hear what she was about to say and then went on to mention that several of her friends had stopped reading my blog because they found it too depressing. That depressed me. But then I got to thinking.

While posting something to the blog daily since I began writing it over fifteen months ago I continue to assess its content. Is it too raw? Is it too dull? Too monotonous? Too dark? I usually end up asking Michael first. He reminds me that, although my goal is to promote epilepsy awareness, I write from the heart, I write how it is for me, for Calvin, for our family—no holds barred—and that I shouldn’t worry if it's too depressing for some to read. Then I ask a handful of trusted friends their honest opinions and I generally find consensus; that although at times it's raw—hard to read—it is hopeful, honest, real. But I still try to find ways to sprinkle in some humor, happiness and dreams into my dialog.

In my cyber travels I came across a mommy blog that struck me. It is written by a woman whose 21-year-old brother died from SUDEP: Sudden Unexplained Death in Epilepsy. At the top of the blog is a remarkably beautiful photo of the author with her husband and two young, ostensibly healthy, children frolicking on a lakeside swing set. She writes:

While I sometimes struggle with the challenges of daily living, ultimately I am happy and feel blessed. Meanwhile the Internet seems to be a breeding ground for negativity. There are blogs and social media pages filled with negative judgments, biting opinions, and sad stories.

So the Happy Blogs are my little solution to the daily barrage of negative energy. I write about happy stuff. Sure, icky stuff happens to me and everyone else. But mostly, life is good.

All I could think was that having a brother with epilepsy—even one who died—must be very different than having a child that has epilepsy or some other chronic condition. Being the upbeat, eternal optimist that I am, I too think that life is pretty damn good, but it’s also effing hard, though I never really thought that until Calvin came into my life.

During the holidays a loving friend who has known me since I was in junior high school sent an electronic greeting card of sorts with a photo of him with his wife, kids and grandkids. He mentioned how he has a picture of me and Calvin on his computer desktop and that he prays for Calvin’s health, peace and well-being every time he sees the picture. That brought tears to my eyes. He also mentioned how, in his words, “kids make Christmas especially fun.”

I wrote back to him:

To be honest, having Calvin makes Christmas especially hard, particularly when everyone else is have so much fun with their kids over Santa and presents and school concerts and craft-making and baking—I could go on forever—and we spend the day like any other, supporting him as he tromps around the house, hoping we can prevent a bad fall or a bump on the head and fearing the next seizure. I write this not to make you feel bad but rather to let you into our lives, if only just a little bit more, as I know you love us.

I never heard back from him. I’m just hoping that no news is good news, but I fear my frank email might’ve been hard for him to take.

And then, a reader—a stranger to me—whose son has epilepsy wrote to me recently, the morning after her son had spent the night in the hospital because of a bad cluster of seizures:

So I just want to thank you for all the help you’ve given me, just by being a comrade, even if you don’t realize it. Taking a few minutes each day to read your blog has been my time to just breathe, as that’s all I can do on some days.

Simply reading her message confirmed for me that I'm doing what I need to be doing.

It's true, I do write about some pretty icky stuff in my blog, but it’s the stuff of my life, I just tell it like it is. I guess, if it's too depressing for some, there are probably oodles of happy blogs out there that will make readers feel super-duper, hunky-dory and A-okay, which is fine and dandy with me.

photo by Michael Kolster