Keeping it Real...

Originally published October 30, 2019

Keeping it real, online and off. Being authentic, posting authentic content on social ... all these things.

We all talk about the fantasy lives we see on social media, and like me, maybe you would admit to having likely rolled your eyes, on occasion, at someone's glamorous Facebook or Instagram posts, wondering about their "real". Maybe you've even wondered about your own fantasy life, and how you portray it on your social media feeds.

Keeping it real. When I decided to start writing and sharing my journey as a wife with a husband (Paul) with Idiopathic Pulmonary Fibrosis (IPF), I promised myself that I would share the truth, the whole truth. Definitely, I would share the stories of triumph and gratefulness as our lives change, but also the stories of the hard stuff, the sometimes ugly or uncomfortable stuff. The days when time weighs heavy on your heart, and grief, sadness, and fear creep in. Those days. Not to wallow or seek sympathy, but to simply say "yes", some days are tough, and it gets hard.

Yesterday, I did just that, on my Facebook and Instagram. It was a surprisingly hard day for me. Completely surprising actually. So I shared it. I let others know publicly, that in that moment, on that day, time was weighing heavy. Waiting for Paul to finish a procedure, my heart was aching through my chest, and I couldn't hold back the tears. These tears, the tracks of my tears, created from all the hard stuff on this journey. I was all alone, in the hospital, waiting for Paul. Many people were passing by, left and right ... yet no one even noticed, or so it seemed.

In these moments I did not feel grateful. I did not feel blessed in our ability to redefine hope, or the art of letting go, nor in our ability to embrace the new ways life shows up for us. In these moments, I just wanted my husband to be healthy, and for our life to be as it was before IPF. That's all I wanted in this moment.

Sharing this moment online created some soulful, compassionate, and immediate responses of help and support; even some surprising ones, which were wonderful. How heartwarming and amazing to see and feel this support from my community of people. You know who you are, and I am so blessed to know you are there.

What's interesting though, is in all of this, it's seeing that some simply cannot travel the hard stuff with you, and I'm quite okay with that too. Yet, isn't it ironic?

We want people to be authentic, and to keep it real, and yet, in their vulnerability we become so uncomfortable with our own vulnerability. Somehow we believe we have to "fix" or stop the "pain", and we can feel inadequate when we can't fix it. We get so uncomfortable in our discomfort, that we freeze, not knowing what to do.

I see this so often with death and knowing many people simply don't know how to fix a person's grief. They just want to "fix", but don't know how, so they disengage. A good friend, newly into separation at the end of her 30 year marriage has seen it too. She has said this. "The loneliness is deafening." The loneliness she is referring to is the silence in the room. The silence when you are with a group of people and, no one can even acknowledge that it's happened or can even ask how you're doing. Feeling all alone when others go silent because they simply don't know what to say or how to fix it. This silence is deafening.

They don't know how to make you feel better. They are uncomfortable in their own discomfort with emotions.

We say we want each other to keep it real, to be authentic, to share more than the glossy glam parts of our lives, and yet ... we don't. Do we?

And so, what do we really want? For me, I simply want us all to get a lot more comfortable with the uncomfortable. Keeping it real is only accepting and acknowledging that life can be messy, and each of us, at some point, can face some really hard, really tough, and ugly stuff. Let's just start to see and acknowledge each other in it. See each other. How great if we could simply get comfortable in the uncomfortable, together. Acknowledge each other in our "stuff" and simply "be" with them. Acknowledge, listen, and hold space.

I give myself permission to feel all the feels (the good, bad, and ugly) on this journey, to acknowledge and release them. I hope you can get comfortable with that and simply walk with me - with us. This is the only way I can get back on the road with a grateful heart that can continue to embrace the different ways life will continue to show up for us.

Yep. I'm keeping it real ... no fixing required. Walk with me. Walk with us.

_________

About the author:

Karen Hendrickson is an Elevation Coach, focused on helping others to rewrite their life story, befriend their mortality, and find the richness and magic that lives at the intersection of our lives where life and death meet. When we allow our authentic self permission to shine our life becomes full of MAGIC and GREATNESS. Contact karenttjourney@gmail.com and start working with her today!