<editorsnote>: This is part two of the story. Click here to read part one. </editorsnote>
I’m now on the other side (pun not intended) of what was the most difficult five weeks of my life. This life experience brought up oddly a lot of shame. I admitted this to my best friend over the weekend and he laughed:
I said, “I feel shame over everything that has happened. The only experience I can remotely compare this to is when I was 16 and was stalked by my former best friends, had five family members drop like flies, and I pulled a knife on would be robbers in our condo(which I had gone to to escape the drama of being stalked). In that life experience I kept asking myself ‘what’s my role in this?’
“Are you blaming yourself for their deaths?” he asked.
“No,” I said, “I’m just really proud of myself that 35 year old Jen is laughing at the concept of feeling any shame toward this situation. 16 year old Jen wouldn’t have known to recognize that but 35 year old Jen does!!”
Onto the post …