Hard Story To Tell

Dilemma. Meeting new people is hard. It didn’t used to be that way. I have grown up having to be good at meshing with new groups of people. I can network my way around any group of strangers and find my niche of people who fit the best as good friends. It is a talent you have to learn fast when you grow up moving and moving and moving. You can either stand there looking scared in the high school cafeteria wondering what to do next as the new girl, or you can plunk your tray down at the most promising looking table and start talking and acting like you have always been there. The best survival tactic was always the latter. But add a new wrinkle to the new girl scenario. I have lived tragedy. It is a huge part of who I am. You have children and they change your lives forever. They are your heart and soul, and teach you more about love than you ever thought possible. Even if your child has died this is true. I believe deeply that I have two amazing sons. I refuse to deny Noah. He existed, mattered, and is one of the most prevalent thoughts and feelings I have, even though he isn’t physically here. I will say it again: I have two sons. To know me is to know them both. To only have half the story means you aren’t really a possible friend. I want the world to authentically know me. Some can handle that information and some can’t. So how do you judge that in a new group of people? Those that can handle it, and those that can’t? What do I say? Am I the “Debbie Downer” of the group because of this sad story? What a pickle. I debate every time. I hate that I am depressing. Why is this my life? That I own this? But he was and is one of the greatest loves of my life, and family comes first right? Sigh. I survived this round, and walked out having met some great people. I just wish I didn’t have the fear and internal debate. I wish I could just be free and clear. Just be the girl who plunks down her tray and talks like she has always been there. That was easier.