The Sound of Silence

I haven’t written in a while, and when I have it’s with less gusto than before. It’s hard to explain why- except to say that these has been the most challenging days so far and I sincerely didn’t know how to handle it. And while it’s tempting to always want to write the shiny, bubbly material we are all so used to seeing (and probably posting ourselves) on social media, I’m going to spin it 180 degrees and just be honest.

The truth is the diagnosis is heavy right now and I’m separated from the things that comfort me. I’ve been away from my girls, the little people who keep me feeling normal and surprisingly sane despite their chaotic energy and wild child spirits. I’ve been away from my home, the physical space I created and feel so comfortable in. I’ve been away from the mountains and trails, the open space I go to ground myself and to find myself when I am lost. I’ve been away from my husband, my quiet rock, my crash pad when I come in for a hard landing.

This is a time filled with too much and too little. Too much risk, too much uncertainty, too much pain and suffering. Too little time with my family, too little bandwidth to process everything, too little healing to ground myself and move forward with a clear head and light heart.

So I feel like a thistle pappus in the wind. I go where it takes me. Tomorrow I get a lot more direction, I hope, after the follow-up echocardiogram and subsequent meeting with doctors. I hope the wind blows me West to my family and my home. But it’s not up to me. 

Before I finish this post, I have to tell you that I talked through my writing with a friend. I wanted to know why I should continue to write about the depressing details of this experience. What value does that have? What do I say when all I really want to write is: This sucks. I’m scared. I don’t know what will happen next. 

The answer to my questions ultimately are that writing through it helps me survive it. I always feel better after writing. Always. I feel more in control, less wounded, and stronger. Even when it sucks. Even when I’m scared. And even when I don’t know what will happen next.

Give ‘Em Hell 

12 Comments Add yours

  1. Shelby Kuenning says:

    Katie, I just found out tonight at a political rally–ironic, huh? I was told you had a blog and when I woke up 2:30 a.m. I decided to look it up because I was concerned and wanted to know more. So, having read some of it I can say that I think your documentation of your journey is valuable to many and likely priceless to some. You have a gift with words, a strength of spirit and a love of life that comes through in an amzingly descriptive and celebratory exercise of life, even in the face of some of the scariest things one might e counter. Your writing is beautiful, poignant, amusing, thoughtful, reflective, inspirational and just downright real. I’ve been dealing with my son’s Asperger’s so much the past few years that sometimes that’s all I can see or do. Your blog, even the little I’ve read at this point, has brought me home in some sense. You remind us of who we really are because you have looked inward, and outward, in a way that invites us to experience life fully, without hesitation or judgment. Thanks for making a difference in the world.

    You go girl, and know that I’ll be among those pulling for you. I look forward to reading more of your wise words.

    Joe would be pleased, no, is pleased too have helped nurture such beautiful flower.

    Cousin Shelby


    1. Oh Shelby, thank you for such thoughtful and kind and soul soothing words. I will carry that with me close to my heart. Thank you.


  2. Bernadette says:

    You are strong even when you feel weak. I hope you are reunited with your loves real soon. Big hugs from Arkansas.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Barb says:

    My Katie wrote her way through this fight. Keep writing as your strength keeps the rest of us going.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Katy Derzay says:

    Praying for you every night . You are one of my rocks in this battle of cancer. You are so strong. You got this Katie and soon you will be home. We don’t know each other well but we share a name and breast cancer which we will kick! 👍
    Katy D

    Liked by 1 person

    1. That’s right girl. It’s a fighting name. We got this!


  5. Lisa Skippergosh says:

    Praying for you always Katie. You are stronger than you know. Your family is your rock and hopefully you will be reunited soon. Everyone is praying for you and in your corner. Don’t ever give up!

    Liked by 1 person

  6. Lorraine Mazurek says:

    Don’t ever stop writing. Even when you are healed and life falls back into its old routine of work, family, chaotic bliss. You are so gifted and can bless so many people with your words, your ability to look inside yourself and be raw and vulnerable. It helps us all stop and take notice of our lives and helps us reflect on what is important and what is just noise. Thank you for your gift. I pray for you, Tom and the girls daily. Give em hell Katie.

    Liked by 1 person

  7. Kari Eliason says:

    Thank for being you- raw and real. Prayers to you beautiful warrior!

    Liked by 1 person

  8. Pam Schindler says:

    Keep writing cuz it helps YOU!

    Liked by 1 person

  9. Phyllis Mosby says:

    Still praying for you every day…. You are the strongest woman I know… ❤ Hang in there we are all pulling for you!!!!


  10. Kelly McCloy says:

    Katie, please keep writing. It is a connection to you even when it is not happy or bubbly it gives me comfort to hear from you. For whatever reason it is an important connection I need to you right now. You got me through the worst thing I have every gone through in my life and it was nothing in comparison to what you and your little family is going through, but my little family needed you and we made it. I wish there was more I could do for you, but I pray and read and hope for your future. I care for you and have a connection I am unable to explain to you. Good or bad keep writing! Much love to you and your beautiful family.

    Liked by 1 person

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