“We had everything to say to each other, but no ways to say it.”
— Jonathan Safran Foer, Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close
How many times have we all thought this at some point in our lives? We had things we wanted to say, and for whatever reason, those things never came out. And not just because of death, which is what Foer is referring to — at least at the surface level. (Those of you who’ve read the book know what I’m talking about. I digress.) But because of everything. Timing. Circumstances. Fear. We have countless words living inside of us that we don’t release.
I didn’t always feel this way at “from IF to when.” There was a time when I felt comfortable saying whatever, whenever, however. This stopped. I kept saying and writing and doing, but I didn’t feel comfortable anymore. I didn’t necessarily realize it at the time, but I didn’t feel as if I was a part of the group. Then, Monday happened. That’s when everything fell apart.
Or, maybe that’s when everything came together. I’m not sure which at this point.
We are told time and time again growing up that words can never hurt us. This isn’t true. In fact, I find it to be the LEAST true thing that we are told as children next to, “If you cross your eyes, they will stay that way.” Words hurt. Silence in the lack of defense of those words hurts even more. The words that I read on Monday hurt me. They hurt many of us. The lack of words in defense of my feelings and the feelings of others crushed me. (For more on words and how they affect those of us who’ve adopted, read this blog post.)
Tuesday, on the other hand, uplifted me. It made me realize that I wasn’t fighting this alone. It made me realize that I still had a voice and that voice was still important. It made me feel so incredibly grateful for the blogging community — a community that I couldn’t possibly walk away from.
Which leads me to here and now. My new space. It was difficult to make that leap, but I had to do it. In my mind, I didn’t have a choice. I couldn’t stay and continue to NOT be true to myself. I couldn’t stay and be a silent supporter of something that didn’t support me in return. As a friend and fellow blogger told me, my choice was an example of “how you live a life with no regrets.” I don’t regret my decision.
This is the first and last time I will write about “from IF to when.” I cherish everything that happened in that space — the good and the bad, but especially the good. The friendships it led to. The confidence it built in me. The catharsis that was blogging every step of our journey throughout infertility and adoption. I remain, always, a supporter of infertility and adoption-related causes and advocacy work, and I’m sure I will write about adoption, in particular, on this blog because I live in that world daily.
But these is not what this blog will be centered on. It will be centered on everything that I had to say.
The only difference is that, now, I finally have ways to say it.