Posted by Lisa Rosenthal on Thu, Sep 02, 2010 @ 08:48 AM
Imaginary friends. How come they disappear by the time you are eight or so? I don’t know about you, but sometimes I could really use an imaginary friend. Someone who shows up to play when everyone else is too tired, too busy, or uninterested. Someone who knows when to be quiet, when to cheer you up, and when to simply hold your hand. When I was first diagnosed with infertility, I could dearly have used that friend from childhood.
Maybe a diary would do it? A journal, for us grown ups. A place to send your inner most thoughts and craziest ideas. You get to write anything you want and it hurts no one’s feelings. You don’t get fired for writing about your terrible boss or business partner. You don’t get divorced for stating that your husband/partner/significant other really did do that, yes, again, for the 49,000 time. A place to complain about your in-laws, parents, friends, and colleagues who really found it necessary to ask you when you were going to have a child. As if you hadn't noticed there wasn't a child there. Or who asked if you were going to give your child a brother or sister.
Yes, indeed, I think a journal would be a lovely stand in for an imaginary friend. For all the above reasons. In fact, I have one. It’s a great place to vent. My journal has a companion. Pink suede, with a pencil sharpener attached and colored pencils on the inside, given to me by a sister of the heart. Whether I write in my other journal daily or not, I always write in this journal. Every night.
My gratitude journal. Oh yeah. Because even in my worst moments, I know that I have things to be grateful for. Sometimes they are so so so little. And silly. The shadow on the wall, for a brief moment. The trees still green. Having just one more bag of my favorite tea. You know. Little. Sometimes the things we find to be grateful for are the little things.
So right back to balance. Expressing the wide range of feelings that we have. Letting all of those feelings have a place, not calling them negative or making us ashamed of being angry, sad, frustrated, jealous.
For me, it’s a perfect balance. A place to vent. A place to say thank you.