The Many "Why's"

I don't want to write this blog so people to feel compelled to read it, or feel they need to understand it - but for those who are curious and never ask, or perhaps for those who have been in my shoes and know what its like - that's why I'm writing. I once read a journal that said, "We write to relive the past" and while to a certain extent I can admit that is true, I mostly believe it is to vent, to release pieces of ourselves from the system overwhelmingly processing it within us. To let it out for ourselves, the writers. It helps to sort out this mess, which is our lives. 

I came across another blog today called My Interrupted Fairy Tale and scrolled months and months earlier to figure out the situation and start the following journey for myself. I feel as though I am invading, her life becoming mine. I tear up reading through Chad's sickness and the dreams of a relationships genuine love-filled future fall apart. I can't hold back when I read of Chad's passing, the holding on until all family has been there and imagining telling a loved one that it was ok to let go now. 


I am completely heartbroken for possibly the third time in my life for reasons that have absolutely nothing to do with me. People in this blogging world are not just telling stories, they are spilling their souls and this is their real life, losing babies they have only known for 36 hours, overcoming hardships, forgiving family for starving family members they are tired of taking care of, or watching the man they imagined growing old with lose his battle to Multiple Myeloma. It's so painful, sometimes I don't know how we survive it. 


Maybe we write to fully understand the emotions we are enduring. Maybe we write to feel as though someone may see it and mop us off of the floor or maybe we write to tell ourselves that we are allowed to feel broken, completely unfixable, in the lowest valley ever molded. We write to be less lonely in our heartbreak, in our trials and in the most devastating moments in our lives. As we click 'share', we pray that maybe if we document it, it won't ever happen again. 


Really, go back to any blog and scroll to the beginning, press 'Older posts' until you run out of pages and then read the first entry, the initial introduction to the world: You'll find some life changing story, whether it is obvious or hidden within hinting language, there's a story there, a breaking point that led to this venting, led to release this version of these unbearable burdens.


Maybe it's the healing process that truly intrigues people, 
wandering hearts that think, 
how could I go on had that story been mine?
How could I sleep asking myself, will the man beside me be alive in the morning?
Will my tiny newborn baby breathe through this night?
How can I say goodbye?
God, why me? 


There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the Heavens;
a time to be born and a time to die,
a time to plant and a time to uproot,
a time to kill and a time to heal,
a time to tear down and a time to build,
a time to weep and a time to laugh,
a time to mourn and a time to dance,
a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing,
a time to search and a time to give up,
a time to keep and a time to throw away,
a time to tear and a time to mend,
a time to be silent and a time to speak,
a time to love and a time to hate,
a time for ward and a time for peace.
What do workers gain from their toil? I have seen the burden God has laid on the human race. He has made everything beautiful in its time. He had also set eternity in the human heart; yet no one can fathom what God has done from beginning to end. I know that there is nothing better for people than to be happy and to do good while they live.
Ecclesiastes 3: 1-12


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