Rose

   May 7, 2008 – A little less than a year ago, I wrote on this website that I was struggling with what I called “the shadows,” a euphemism for depression, which turned out, in retrospect, I think, to be closer to genuine mental illness.
  There were certainly some painful triggers, and I lost myself in many ways, but the fissures were old and deep, the crack loud and wide, the pain and grief beyond my previous imagination or experience. Like Joseph Campbell says, when the mask comes off,  you better know who you are. I did not, and am working hard at it, and will be for the rest of my life.
  A good life, I am learning, is best achieved in small ways, with small steps. And requires lots of help. Everybody wants to be honest, but few people are, and learning how is one of the great challenges of life for me.
  Since I wrote about the shadows, many things have changed in my life. For one thing, I began receiving torrents of e-mail, many of them thanking me for being “open” and offering support and encouragement, which meant more to me than I might have thought. I began writing more, taking photos in earnest, plunging into Hospice work, finding a good therapist (I am a strong, if belated,  believer in getting help), seeking a genuine spiritual life.
   On the dark side, I also started getting a lot of messages from people who expected me to be open about every part of my life on demand, and about all of the people who inhabit my life. Some assumed I needed their help and  wanted to discuss all of my problems, and, at times, I have struggled to deal with all of the expectations arising from my decision to reveal this part of my life. As the writer E.B. White once said, “there are 10,000 of you and one of me,” about the people writing to him. And that was before the Internet.
  Sometimes, it is simply not possible to be responsive.
  Looking back, it was a good decision to be open, and I don’t regret it. I am a big believer in openness. I am grateful that so many people took some inspiration and comfort from my willingness to air my problems. It means the world to me that so many  – thousands, actually –  have taken the trouble to write me and say that they took heart from the fact that I sank into a deep hole, admitted it,  and have survived, to give rebirth to my life.
  For all the pain and struggle, I am better for it, and there is joy and achievement, love and satisfaction. Even some real peace, for the first time in my life.
  I am getting there. I am beginning to live my life, and what a miracle that is.
  My purpose in being open, to be honest, was complex. I believed that by being open I would not be able to lie or hide anymore. I believed I would have little choice but to get help and move forward. I never thought my story would uplift or inspire anybody, and that was never my conscious intention. I have come to see the importance of honesty, and was also determined that if this website was to have any real meaning or purpose, it had to capture many of the elements of a life, not just endearing dogs and pesky goats. I think it is the mix of both that make the blog special for me, and perhaps, for some of you.
   I accept some of the responsibility of continuing to be open, and to share my struggle to be a better human and to lead a meaningful life, to do good, to be fulfilled, and to grow and change with grace. I am definitely on the lookout for God, rather than playing God, and eagerly awaiting any messages he has for me. I am getting some. I will be open about that, too, especially that.
    The fact that I have problems does not mean I expect you to help me with them, or that I can be open about every detail of my life or the other people in it. To reveal all of my life  would be grotesque,  a violation, and a defeat for the very idea of being open.
  Odd for a memoirist and passionate blogger, I am private, even shy,  and keep significant chunks of my life to myself. Like many introverts, I draw strength from space and solitude.
   I am okay, I guess is the point, better than that, really, and grateful for the good will that has washed over me, day after day.
    Openness is not easy, or unambivalently comfortable. But the purpose of openness is not simply to reveal, or confess, but to be accountable, to get to work, to seek the truth and face it, and to let the bright light of day vanquish the darkness.