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Which is not the answer to everything but it’s pretty amazing to me. Today’s blog post makes 32 posts for the month of November between this blog and the one on BlogHer. My wrists ache, my brain feels emptied, and I am going to pretend that yesterday’s posts didn’t offend anyone.

From a pure writing standpoint, the last month has been quite productive. I’ve been taking an online class with Christina Katz and by this time next week, I should have a nice body of work to start shopping about in the big bad world of print. Take a stab at the freelancing thing.

Blogging daily. Twice no less. Has been good for my brain but I am still probably leaving my best stuff all over Twitter and Facebook.

I was on fire on Facebook today and not in a friendly way but certainly in a progressive feminist writer way, which someone mistook for “leftism”. When did refusing to be suckered by the politics of class-ism and racism and sexism become a “liberal” rather than a “moral” issue?

But aside from that and the fact that I made pizza crust from scratch for the first time in eons, the day was a lazy one. Wednesdays are slug days for me. I had good intentions but my ear is still bugging me and throwing off my balance and my brother, CB, called and we talked for over an hour. He talked. I listened. I’m a good listener. Just so long as I am not sitting in front of the computer because Rob will tell you that I have the attention span of a gnat and will feed my ADD if given have an opportunity to do so.

Which is why he shouldn’t give me a Samsung Galaxy II S with gazillions of speed and ninja functions for my birthday – but he so is!!

I will now be tagged and as baggable as every over sheeple in North America.

The Top Mom Blogs contest ends at 5 P.M. PST tomorrow. I am still no shoo-in for the top five. Most of the others in the top ten are sponsored and have advertisers. I am so out of my league, but I am giving it the good fight. Cajoling FB friends and family daily and have a few people helping solicit voters from among their FB and Twitter lists. Adds up slowly. The woman in the top spot effortlessly gains a hundred or more votes a day. She’s got over twice as many votes as I do. I have no idea how one does that. I should ask The Bloggess sometime. She wins these contests all the time. But one last plea, hey? Click over and vote for my blog. I’ve never won anything and this would be beyond awesome despite it being nerve-wracking and the fact that I will never do this kind of thing again because it’s bad for my fragile sense of self.


But what else is new under the sun?

Dirty feet

Image by Yannig Van de Wouwer via Flickr

A blogger I follow posted about how since the dawn of the blogosphere the dilemma we life bloggers face when the issue that brought us to the keyboard isn’t really the reason we stay on the web anymore. He began as a widowed blogger following the death of his husband, and his story was compelling. Single dad finds love, marries and in short order is widowed when his new husband is stricken with cancer.

It helped that he is keen and articulate and not prone to the navel gazing rut so many life bloggers – myself at times included – can fall into. His observations were insightful and he is a good writer.

After a time, he was picked up by Widow’s Voice and became a contributor there, but after a time, he began to do what all widowed people do even if they don’t realize it: he moved on. He still called what he was doing grieving but it’s a common mistake. The grief industry is built on faulty information that is part pseudo-science and mostly anecdotal, and it is fed by a culture that labels any normal event or action a dysfunction in need of 12 stepping.

We grieve in the beginning but the moving on process is not grief  unless you count the grieving we do for the people we used to be and can’t be anymore, which is apples to oranges. Moving on is work and it’s emotionally draining at times to be sure, but it’s not grieving. I don’t know if it has a name really. But during this time, we note our losses keenly when we are faced with the effort involved with the whole rebuilding of our lives. We miss and maybe long and certainly feel sad. All valid enough emotions on their own that they don’t need to be lumped under “grief”.

So this blogger is moving on. New city, job, home and new love. Enough “new” to send even a non-widowed person into a spin, but being widowed, he has grief to file it all under even when that’s not it. However, the issue is his blogging. Being a life blogger, he naturally shares his now, which is not really the raw, visceral stuff of active grief and his freshly widowed readers noticed.

He noted their notice and wondered if it was time to retire. It’s a natural reaction. The newly widowed are not fooled by those of us farther out. They know we aren’t really “feeling it” the way they do. It’s not posing really, but it’s disingenuous to claim one is a widow when one is moving into the territory of becoming “someone who was widowed once”. It’s noun versus verb territory, and most of us get there in the second or third year.

The trouble is that we are not supposed to admit it. Doing so is to relinquish membership in the “club no one wants to belong to”, and when you’ve found camaraderie there, it’s hard to walk away from it despite the fact that you really do need more in common than dead spouses to be friends or more. It’s no different from any other bonding event that brings people together. Marriage, motherhood, employment. At some point that one thing just isn’t enough.

But, my point. You are probably wondering and at 553 words perhaps I should get to it.

I commented on his post. Someone replied to me but yet at me. “I don’t want to cause controversy” which means, yeah I do but I don’t want to own it if actually happens. And the short was that I am wrong and callously so and probably a dgi to boot. Oh, and I am “rigid” and bossy.

When I first found widow boards and blogs the thing that struck me with the most horror were those who clung to the label and the false idea that grief is a quasi-mental health issue that is more or less chronic. You would always grieve in their opinion. It was like low-level exposure to nuclear waste to read what they wrote. No way a newly widowed person could avoid buying in to one degree or another without risking the community shunning that goes along with objecting and pointing out that most widowed folk never see the need for offline grief grouping let alone online or blogging. Most bereaved people couldn’t be fingered in a line up at the year or that and a half mark. Sure, they feel sad and they miss, but as I said earlier – those are distinct feelings of their own.

Another blogger at Widow’s Voice wrote recently about being a “fraud” because she really doesn’t feel any of the things she is supposed to feel. Commenters were kind and supportive of her right to not grieve like a “normal person” but adamant that this is not they way most feel.

Which is funny.

The Internet is a small place and the blogosphere smaller still. It could be argued that those who populate it aren’t really representative of the larger population or even what is considered “normal”.

I left a comment assuring her that she was not a freak because I knew that not many others would. Surprisingly the comment made it through. The woman who moderates there is not generally open to widow views that don’t match her own or the faulty grieving model the site pushes.

And your point is? Right, I was going to get to that, wasn’t I?

Grieving and moving on are highly individual for the most part but the fact is that most people don’t spend their lives doing either. They tackle one and move to the next in a relatively expeditious manner. If human beings weren’t able to do this, we’d have perished as a species before we even got started. It’s wrong to tell people grief is something that it is not or to lead them into self-fulfilling prophecies by misrepresenting where you are really at in the process. Telling people there is no right or wrong and yet clearly saying the opposite with what you write or how you present the facts is not being helpful.

Most of the struggle I had in the last three or four months of that first year of widowhood are directly attributable to the bad examples and just plain wrong information I was provided by widowed people who were years ahead of me. Granted, a generous handful of these people were mildly dysfunctional to bat-shit crazy even before their spouse died and so perhaps I am judging them too harshly. But some of them were simply using the venues for purposes unknown though being helpful couldn’t be truthfully numbered among them.

Both the Widow’s Voice bloggers I mentioned seem genuine and I think their views and struggles in the moving on period are valuable. I wish them well and hope they blog on, remembering though that at some point it’s not grief anymore. Not really. Not the way the newbies live it, and there comes a point when you aren’t doing them any good wearing the widow mantle as though it were a tiara. It’s like the high school prom queen who never really got over graduation and growing up.


Knock on Wood (film)

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Remember not long ago when I casually mentioned that our renovation progress hinged a bit on the type and frequency of family emergencies? And that I said, we had not accounted for all those who could possibly implode and need assistance?

Okay, so we’ve dodged a bullet or three in the last week or so, but our luck did not hold.

My dear sweet mother-in-law phoned tonight to let us know that she is filing for divorce.

The details are sketchy but sad and a bit sordid. She’d sold her home. Invested in a new one in the States. All of her things are in storage and she is doing the senior citizen version of couch-surfing. Finances are bleak.

“But I will survive,” she said. “I am not going to spend my remaining days miserable.”

What this means in terms of assistance isn’t clear yet.

“You mean Dad is her only option?” Mick typed to me on Facebook in reply to a heads up message I sent to her and Edie.

“Umm, yeah,” I replied.

“I am?” Rob asked.

“What? Do you think your sister is any shape to help?”

He smiled grimly, “She’s on the verge of homeless herself. Maybe Mom can move in with her and help with the mortgage? It’d be like old times.”

I have heard about “old times” and it makes me shudder a bit. Besides, his mother has already lived a version of this with the other sister and it didn’t turn out well at all.

“You know what the worst thing about this is?” Rob said “We’ve lost a place to stay in Arizona for Christmas.”

Like we’d have ever flown to the States at Christmas. Unless someone had died. Which I am knocking wood to ward off those evil spirits even as I type.

* Thanks to furious voting in the past couple of days, I have retaken the 5th spot. I need to hang onto it until the end of the day on Thursday, so I need more votes. I know. I know. I keep saying I need more but I do. For purposes of blog exposure, making the Top Five is important. The site only shows the first five and you have to click through to the others, which is less exposure because who clicks through? I am up by about twenty votes and that’s nothing for someone to gap. I need to be up by 40 or 50. So, if you could click over and vote. Just three more days. Please? Thanks.