I haven’t written in months. The “writer’s block” I’ve been experiencing isn’t for a lack of having thoughts constantly swirling through my mind that needed out, but more of lack of knowing how to put them out. And maybe that isn’t even true. Maybe I’ve been afraid of how those thoughts may be perceived, how I myself may be perceived for feeling the way I do. But if I’ve learned anything through all of this, it’s that life is short, and living it for me, in a way that I feel is authentic and true to who I am and who I want to be is what’s important.
From the time my boys were diagnosed, and especially since Landon died, people have had plenty of words of wisdom and platitudes to offer to try and comfort me or help me make sense of what has happened and more importantly, why it happened. And I 100 percent believe people have said the things they have with the sincere intention of making me feel better or to try and comfort me in times where comfort was impossible. The thing is: those platitudes that have been engrained in our minds for comfort and meaning have never been helpful, they have never made me feel better, and in all honesty, they have often times been just as upsetting as the situation itself.