It took off because it’s real and raw and courageous to write or speak up and stand out even in the slightest as a person speaking truth to power. That is the beauty of Substack for me. “I write what I like”-Steve Biko, a South African martyr and fighter for truth and reconciliation and respect for his humanity.
Respect to you, and all who go before you, and after you, all of us together writing what we like, not what others tell us is polite or acceptable or “nice”.
Danielle the authenticity and vulnerability of this post has me moved to tears. My chest feels tight and I’m deeply identifying with the fear of allowing goodness in. I have come nowhere near to experiencing the losses you have and yet because of loss I do now have a sense of vulnerability around those positive emotions that did not exist before. Thank you for leading me to this place and reminding me of why it makes sense and that I’m in good company. Sending so much love.
It took me a long time to recognize that positive emotions and experiences felt vulnerable. It's somewhat of a recent thing I've realized about myself. I imagine a lot of us struggle with this. It makes all the sense in the world.
I'm sending so much love to you, Jen. We are both having to make room for hard things.
Such a heartfelt rendition. Like Carol Anne Power said, it is raw and real. I truly enjoyed reading this. Your pain and love for Toby is undeniably seen, felt and visible. You show how words unfold. Beautiful. It really touched me.
Unlike you, I had my father, at least for the first 8 years and 2 months of my life when he went with 3 friends, out drinking, across the border 60 miles away and on returning left me, my mother and 3 siblings in a flaming car crash leaving him and 3 passengers dead.
Not your experience but may help me understanding or empathizing with your experience at a deep level.
I appreciate you sharing this part of your story here 💜. You’re right that you and I have different stories. This is the beauty of empathy and witnessing—even though our stories aren’t the same, we can still connect to one another’s experience.
Rereading my comment above, I realize for small percentage of people could think the sadness is because of having only your casserole. That is incorrect. The sadness is one of the ingredients in your casserole.
Again my amazing daughter, your writing - raw and painful is being read by many who find solace in your words. Toby is so proud.
Thank you mom. I want to make him proud.
This is all I can do for him now.
It took off because it’s real and raw and courageous to write or speak up and stand out even in the slightest as a person speaking truth to power. That is the beauty of Substack for me. “I write what I like”-Steve Biko, a South African martyr and fighter for truth and reconciliation and respect for his humanity.
Respect to you, and all who go before you, and after you, all of us together writing what we like, not what others tell us is polite or acceptable or “nice”.
Kindest regards
Carol Power
Johannesburg
South Africa
Thank you, Carol. Standing out in this way does feel vulnerable. It does break some norms and “rules.”
And I’m also realizing more and more that waiting for fear and worry to go away maybe isn’t the approach I want to use.
I like the saying “writing is fighting.”
Danielle the authenticity and vulnerability of this post has me moved to tears. My chest feels tight and I’m deeply identifying with the fear of allowing goodness in. I have come nowhere near to experiencing the losses you have and yet because of loss I do now have a sense of vulnerability around those positive emotions that did not exist before. Thank you for leading me to this place and reminding me of why it makes sense and that I’m in good company. Sending so much love.
It took me a long time to recognize that positive emotions and experiences felt vulnerable. It's somewhat of a recent thing I've realized about myself. I imagine a lot of us struggle with this. It makes all the sense in the world.
I'm sending so much love to you, Jen. We are both having to make room for hard things.
Such a heartfelt rendition. Like Carol Anne Power said, it is raw and real. I truly enjoyed reading this. Your pain and love for Toby is undeniably seen, felt and visible. You show how words unfold. Beautiful. It really touched me.
“Your pain and love for Toby is undeniably seen, felt, and visible.” Thank you, Brenda. This is so meaningful to me 💜
have you now written the one you were going to write? about growing up with Dad?
It’s mostly complete but I haven’t sent it out yet. If not the next story, it’ll be the one after that.
Unlike you, I had my father, at least for the first 8 years and 2 months of my life when he went with 3 friends, out drinking, across the border 60 miles away and on returning left me, my mother and 3 siblings in a flaming car crash leaving him and 3 passengers dead.
Not your experience but may help me understanding or empathizing with your experience at a deep level.
Oh my goodness. Jim, I’m so sorry.
I appreciate you sharing this part of your story here 💜. You’re right that you and I have different stories. This is the beauty of empathy and witnessing—even though our stories aren’t the same, we can still connect to one another’s experience.
I try not to bring much of my casserole as we are to dine, sadly, on your casserole.
Rereading my comment above, I realize for small percentage of people could think the sadness is because of having only your casserole. That is incorrect. The sadness is one of the ingredients in your casserole.
I love this, Jim. Thank you 💜
I wrote a reply but didn’t go through. I’ll save it for another time. It was a nice response.
I look forward to reading it one day 💜💜
Thank you so much. I’m so glad you’re here 💜.
I will return to the story about my birth father. And I am going to have a look at your story too.