| "Run Unashamed" represents an effort to own my story "à la Brené Brown." I am intrigued by this psychologist-cum-public figure who inspires women to embrace vulnerability. Indeed, I have just begun her latest book Rising Strong. In it, she criticizes that "we like recovery stories to move quickly through the dark so we can get to the sweeping redemptive ending" (xxiv ). This passage resonates with me, for my blog represents a work in progress, not a finished tale. It is an effort to expose via myriad anecdotes what Brown would identify as "wounds that are in the process of healing" (xxiv). |  |
I recount my story in the hope that others will not distance themselves from their friends due to feelings of shame; instead, I hope readers will share their vulnerabilities with loved ones who will support them. Brown notes that "When we deny our stories, they define us. When we own our stories, we get to write a brave new ending." For too long, denial of an eating disorder informed how I thought, behaved and acted in the world. But I refuse now to submit to ideas or concepts of what may--or may not be--the expectations various people have of me. Instead, I perceive the rightness of "how owning our story and loving ourselves through that process is the bravest thing that we will ever do.”
The sudden and bewildering death of Maryclaire provides the cataclysmic moment of what just may be my life's principal storyline. Henceforth, there is what came before 12 December 2015 and what came afterward. This sudden and startling tragedy forced me to break free of the complacent manner in which I treated relationships, because I realized, too late, that I had presumed that I could catch Maryclaire up with my travails--depression, eating disorder--at a future date. Her death represents a low point propelling the denouement: do I pull the covers up over my head and give in to the darkness, or do I allow myself to heal and to grow.
The deep feelings wrought by tragic events forever change us. In her emotionally astute essay "This Is It, My Pet Pachooch," Bonnie Friedman notes that she had been "drifting" before the death of her sister, but Anita's passing helped her understand that "life is short and mustn't be wasted." I, too, choose to honor Maryclaire by effecting positive change in my life. Since her passing, I have reengaged my creativity via wordsmithing, begun a running regimen, and focused a lot more attention on relationships that are important to me. Like Friedman, "I only wish it hadn't taken the loss of my sister to rouse me."
The deep feelings wrought by tragic events forever change us. In her emotionally astute essay "This Is It, My Pet Pachooch," Bonnie Friedman notes that she had been "drifting" before the death of her sister, but Anita's passing helped her understand that "life is short and mustn't be wasted." I, too, choose to honor Maryclaire by effecting positive change in my life. Since her passing, I have reengaged my creativity via wordsmithing, begun a running regimen, and focused a lot more attention on relationships that are important to me. Like Friedman, "I only wish it hadn't taken the loss of my sister to rouse me."
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