I’ve lapsed. I have had every intention of writing frequently - of even getting into that habit that so many writers talk about, which is getting up early and writing every day. (What a lovely thought. Anytime I do that, inevitably my alarm wakes up the girls too and it’s totally useless.)
I think about it all the time, what parts of these stories I might tell. And ever since I felt the first pull to tell these stories and, more importantly, to share them, I’ve committed to myself that I would tell the full story, not just the Instagram-worthy version.
I thought I was doing that. But I realize that I really haven’t been.
My first sign was noticing that I feel irritated when people say “You have such a positive attitude!” What a strange reaction to such an innocuous statement. It makes me worry that I’m coming across like Pollyanna, and I have no interest in playing the Glad Game. I really thought that I was sharing the darkness along with the light. But If I was sharing it, all people were hearing what the positive side. I want to be authentic. Pollyanna doesn’t feel even remotely authentic to me. I’ve been wrestling with a lot of darkness.
But, here’s the struggle: In the midst of the darkness, it feels really, really ugly. And what’s the point of sharing the ugliness if I haven’t had time to process through it? I certainly don’t want pity. Or worse, a bunch of people thinking that my reason for sharing was to garner sympathy. Please, God, I don’t ever want to be a Sympathy Whore.
Well, I had an experience recently that gave me some insight into what exactly is the point of sharing the ugliness.
I have resisted most of the dozens of Zoom invites in my inbox every day. Everyone is offering their version of “Navigating the New Normal” and “How to Market in These Unprecedented Times.” Hard pass. But I saw a group call for women with breast cancer and dealing during Covid-19. Boom! Yes, I’d love to talk to other people who are trying to figure out how to live with breast cancer treatment during a global pandemic. So I logged on, and women started sharing their experiences. We’re all complete strangers and yet, we’re connected through this shared experience.
So it came to my turn to share. And I did. I talked about how, just after I started treatment, Sean had to move out to reduce the risk of exposure to the virus. And about how I’d found myself single-parenting our two young girls while going through chemo. I felt compelled to acknowledge that we are coping however we can, by getting creative in seeing each other, and how grateful I am for people who keep showing up for us in ways I never expected. When I got done, the facilitator just said, “Wow.” And then she asked, “Are you able to prioritize yourself and get some time to yourself for self care?”
Umm, that’s a no. I wanted to scream: I am with my children around the clock. They are young and they still think I’m awesome most of the time and that means that they want my attention constantly. The only time I get to myself is when they go to sleep at night and by then, I’m exhausted. I might get in one episode of a grown-up television show before I pass out. Only once have I tried to lock the door when I took a shower just to get 10 minutes of Me Time but LW nearly beat the door down trying to get in. My Me Time became me yelling “I’ll be out in just a minute!” at the top of my lungs every 30 seconds. It feels like the only real Me Time I get is when they’re distracted by either the television or their tablets. If BW gets in some of her schoolwork in that screen time, I feel like it’s been a good day. I let go of expectations and our normal rules around screen time a long time ago, but the mom guilt abides.
But I didn’t say any of that. I just said, “No. I’m not getting a lot of alone time these days.”
Later, another woman shared and she said, “I’m really struggling. I guess I’m going to have to find some inner positivity like others on this call. Because right now, I’m just angry.” I wanted to jump through the screen. I wanted to tell her that I don’t have the inner positivity she thinks I do.
And as I’ve thought about it since then, I’ve realized that this is the point of sharing in the middle of the ugliness: to hear someone else’s story and to have that moment where you say “HELL YES to that!!”
I have fallen into my own version of the Glad Game. My Glad Game’s rules have been pretty simple: For every negative thought or experience I have, I have to counter it with something I’m grateful for.
It’s not that I shouldn’t be grateful for what I/we have. There is much to be grateful for in the midst of all of this. And I fundamentally believe how important it is to acknowledge the multitude ways in which we’re incredibly privileged. All of this is an incredibly important tool in maintaining perspective and not letting the darkness hang on for too long.
But my Glad Game has been holding me back. It’s been holding me back from fully experiencing and exploring the ugliness. It has been stunting my growth. There will be times for acknowledging my gratitude, even daily.
But I don’t have to keep score. Keeping score means that one emotion is not valid without another. I can let each experience stand on its own and fully explore it for whatever it is. And for that matter, I can let each and every emotion I feel stand on its own too.
If I’m playing My Glad Game in my writing, I’m too focused on how others might perceive me. If I’m playing My Glad Game, I’m not writing for myself, which is what I promised myself I would do.
No more Glad Game. No more keeping score.