handling hateful internet trolls with loving grace

(I am writing this blog post because I needed to read it today.  I searched around, reached out to some incredibly wise friends, but ultimately felt like I needed to write this down in order to work through it.)

First let me start off by stressing how supported and lifted up I feel by 99% of the people in my life.  There is just so much goodness, and it's overflowing daily, and that's what life is all about. I don't expect it, but when it comes, as it always does, I hope I receive it with grace.  THANK YOU to each and every one of you who took time to wish me well, light a candle, or send a loving message or text.

The reality is that every once in a while, a hateful internet troll pops up and rears their ugly head.  The saddest reality of it all that sometimes these are people that we consider loved ones---people we trust, people we care about.  This is when it hurts the most, and feels like the lowest kind of blow.  When people question your integrity, your family ideals, and point judgey-troll fingers at you and the ones you love----the first instinct is to retaliate.  Actually, my first reaction is to jump off the internet forever, and hide my family, and live in a cave filled with Reese's peanut butter cups.  But then they win.

Every single one of us out there, if we're human, can think of one these types of people.  The type who suck us dry, who drain our joy. The type who falsely accuse, the type that drama always follows.  One of the hard parts of being human means that we have to deal with these people, whether we like it or not. 

Last night I sat in church, listening to the priest talk about the pain in our life (whether it be an illness, a difficult situation, or a hateful troll----my words, not his) that ultimately equals our crosses to bear. He explained that pain isn't something that we should hide from or try to dull with drugs or alcohol. Pain exists to teach us something--- and bring us closer to our essence, and the goodness in other people.  I'm choosing to believe this.  I'm choosing to continue to do me, without apology or explanation.  I will continue to look for the good in people, and not hide or keep secret what is not shameful.  I'm choosing to connect, and not disassociate. 

I hope these words help someone feel less alone.  Especially if they have their own troll trying to bring them down.  You aren't alone.  This world is a big place, filled with trolls and angels.  Be a magnet for what you need.  And try your best not to run away to a hole filled with Halloween candy.  We all need you to do you. 

(*If you have any words of wisdom to share on this topic, I'd love to hear them!  Please comment here or reach out to me privately.  And if you are my own private troll, please feel free to keep your comments to yourself and go eat some candy xo)

the beautiful beginnings

Things are more mellow now that some weeks have passed.  There have been lots of appointments, for John and for myself.  Lots of games to get the kids to, parties to attend.  The usual hustle-and-bustle of life.  And while if given the choice of never having John deal with pulmonary emboli, I would take it in a heartbeat, the truth is that we are all really loving having him home.  Not only do we have real weekends together, but he's home at night to help with homework and bedtime and hockey practices! Now that he's home I honestly don't know how I ever did it all without him.

We're all in good spirits.  We're moving into our favorite season, the time when we make a whole bunch of kettle corn and sit in from on the TV and watch a movie together when the sun sets.  The time when we crowd around the fire.  As we move into November, we start to prepare to host Thanksgiving, our most special time.  And John will be with us, healthy and whole.  There are certainly so many things to give thanks for this year.

Tomorrow is the day we find out if the second embryo transfer took.  I've been taking it slow(er) these past two weeks, eating Halloween candy and reading some incredible books.  It's such an honor to be doing this beautiful thing---and even though the uncertainty and fear can creep up here and there, I'm trying to stay centered and focus on the gift that this experience is.  I'm learning so much about myself, even this second time around.  Tomorrow morning I will leave my house at 5am, and watch the sunrise as I drive in to the city.  A nurse will take the blood from my vein and call us later in the day and tell me if there is a child growing in me, a child belonging to people that want this more than anything.  I have such a good feeling.  Today, I light a candle, and sit in ceremony, reflecting.  I'll gather with friends for an Indian lunch.  I'll go thrifting.  I'll go to a parent-teacher conference.  But through it all, I'll hold this feeling close---this unknowing, this beautiful jumping-off-the-edge feeling that starts it all.