To start on the lighter side of things, the weather has been Capital-G-Gorgeous. Perfect spring weather. And, as always, when that first extended period of spring weather appears, I go out and get dirty.
|Pure brawn, folks.|
|Can you honestly say she's not the cutest thing you've ever seen?|
Not done yet, but my kids have been great. I've managed to convince my son of the stay within my sight or we have to go back in the house rule after just two follow-throughs, and our outdoor toys, garden tools, and the "slimy, yet satisfying" worms (anyone else watch a lot of Lion King clips?) keep them entertained.
Theeeeeeen, I wrote a Really Important Post. Actually, I wrote two. There's a post here at this blog and one at Lefty Pop. They go together. I knew I would write some version of these posts since I started this blog 13 months ago. And after I did, I was nervous. I exposed a lot more of my private life than I am used to doing. But I felt some lightness, some relief, and I thought, "This is a good thing."
And then I got some really positive feedback from people I knew two years ago and people I know now through blogging. And people like good friends and family who support me no matter what. And I felt really good. I felt vindicated. I thought, "Finally! I got to tell the truth and people are hearing me and believing me! Finally I got to set the record straight!" Even when I got negative feedback in one comment, I responded thoughtfully and professionally (I think) and reinforced my own feeling that I had done the Right Thing by posting my story.
And then, last night, another comment showed up. It seems to have been written in anger: it's incoherent at times and unedited, and for me, it is 2011-2012 all over again. I deleted it. Most of what she wrote is untrue, and I don't think it's a productive sort of comment, and perhaps most importantly, if it is written by the person I think wrote it, it could be in violation of a legal agreement. And I just don't want to go there.
Then I found it at Lefty Pop (read it if you like). And, all of a sudden, I was back at the dining room table once again. Back with my laptop and the notebooks and the fear and the anger. Oh, how my fingers itched to pull out the notebooks! I wanted to write a scathing rebuttal (and, let me tell you, I can scathe). I wanted to disprove every one of her accusations. (Except the one about me confronting people with my baby in an Ergo (he was napping). I mean, her description of my behavior is exaggerated, but yes, I confronted people. I don't regret or deny it; I was just saving that story for another post.) And the part about the email I sent a year ago? That just has me squirming inside. Did she make that up? Did someone hack my email address? Did someone write an email and sign my name? Any of those three options is horrifying.
And then the comment showed up on my blog again. Twice (in response to two posts). I deleted them again. And they showed up again. I deleted. Again. The author and I did this back and forth for two or three hours before I finally remembered I could disable Anonymous comments (duh).
I'm fairly sure I know who wrote it. It's posted under the assumed name of 'Ericka Kane' on Lefty Pop, but if I had to place money, I'd say it was written by the woman who once yelled at my husband that she hoped he'd have a nervous breakdown. (Interestingly, I was told this morning that Erica Kane is a famous soap opera character played by Susan Lucci. I know who Susan Lucci is, but I've never watched All My Children. Wikipedia reports that TV Guide named Erica Kane One of the Nastiest Villains of All Time. Interesting pseudonym choice.)
I went to bed feeling dirty. I felt violated by her accusations of me and harrassed by her insistent intrusion on my blog, but the critic in my head said, "Well, you write a public blog, don't you? You can't stop people from commenting! You brought this on yourself by writing that story." And so I started to question whether I should have written it. I started to think about all the page views and so few comments, and I started to think, "People have read this post and not commented because they don't believe me. They think my husband did something egregious that I am covering up. They think, like Ericka Kane, that it's hard to fire a teacher.'"
Fortunately, I slept really well.
And today, I thought on it some more. I thought through speech therapy and my garden work and meal preparation. And, all of sudden, it hit me: I can't convince everyone that my husband is innocent. If Oprah had been there, she would have said Aha! I think there might have been a veritable lightbulb. That is the hump I needed to get over. People will believe what they want to believe. But I know the truth. And 99% of the people he knows know the truth. Shoot, even Ericka Kane must actually know it somewhere deep down inside.
Don't think I've entered some kind of enlightened state, though. I want everyone who reads that nasty comment to say, "Ah, Sarah, but I believe you." But it's an unmistakable breakthrough. Which occurred because I wrote that story. Even because of that hateful comment. (Well, maybe that's going too far.) Hey, I wasn't blowing smoke when I wrote to the other commenter that speaking truthfully and openly is healing. It is!
So, again this week, I end without a true tally of ten. But that last one counts as more than one, doesn't it?
A Fly on our (Chicken Coop) Wall, Amycake and the Dude, Considerings, Finding Ninee, Getting Literal, I Want Backsies, Mother of Imperfection, Rewritten, Thankful Me, The Wakefield Doctrine