Project Me

I'm fierce
When I'm fragile.
I cry
When I'm happy.
I am the most perfect
When I'm imperfect.
I'm lost
When I find myself.
I love you the most
When you think you're unlovable.
I grieve when things are going well.
I slip when life is steady.

And I grow when I'm buried.

Widows: Are We Just One Weird Hair-Do Away From Being A Cult?

Okay.  You guys are going to think I’m crazy (how many blogs have I started this way???), but I always really think about the comments I make on the Facebook page and the responses that I email back to people. Because, sometimes, the thing that I initially write sounds…well….

Creepy.

I am lucky enough to be in touch with a lot of you. I love that you trust me enough, as a friend you’ve never met, to share your stories of loss and triumph. It makes me so grateful when new people join the page and make a comment introducing themselves, telling us why they’re with us. And I love how we all rally around each other, offering support, laughing through our tears, and sometimes throwing out the odd sick joke.

But sometimes when I’m writing a comment or corresponding with someone, I’ll catch myself right before I hit “send” and change what I’ve written. Because when I read, “We’re so glad that you’re with us,” sometimes I wonder if the person on the other end is envisioning some cult leader who is ready to make them sign over their mortgages and adopt 50 cats (our chosen God).

I catch myself, especially, when I’m responding to someone on Open to Hope or Hello Grief (two wonderful websites who occasionally publish what I’ve written). Because usually when someone writes how heartbroken they are about their loss and how they don’t know who to turn to, I’ll want to say, “Come join us. We’re here waiting for you.”

Now seriously. Look at my picture. Imagine me with my eyes popping out saying that. See? It IS creepy!

We have our own language (how many people do you know type (((hugs))) on a regular basis?). We recognize people who are not “one of us.” We’re ready to take on the world if it means defending one of our fellow grievers.

Throw in a crazy dress code and we’re just itching for a compound in the mountains somewhere.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I kind of like all of these things about us. We’ve formed a group and a bond that will probably never be broken. Thanks to the wonders of technology, I can now say that I have people all over the world supporting me unconditionally. And so do you.

Awhile back on the Widow Chick page, we did kind of come up with a wacky scenario about what would happen if we all lived together. If you haven’t checked it out, you really should:

http://www.facebook.com/notes.php?id=114854541866999¬es_tab=app_2347471856#!/note.php?note_id=146156368733223

Okay…now doesn’t that sound fabulous? I mean who wouldn’t want all of those perks? I bet if we really set that up, we’d be beating widows away with a stick.

Well, maybe not. We’re really not that kind of a crowd.

I guess, the point is…if we’re turning into some weird, Kleenex-carrying, chocolate-munching, wine-drinking cult, I guess I’m okay with it. I’ll still try and keep what I think of as creepy comments to a minimum, so as not to freak out the new people. And if we ever do all get together someday, I can promise you one thing.

I won’t make you eat a live chicken and burn down the compound. ‘Cause that would just be taking things a little too far.

Is Social Networking Really All That Social?

I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m kind of excited to go out and see The Social Network. A big part if this is because I like the writer, Aaron Sorkin, who also wrote A Few Good Men, The West Wing, and The American President.

All good stuff.

I watched him give an interview on The View the other day (I know…how very girly of me) and one of the questions they asked him was whether or not he thought Facebook was good for society and if it brings us closer together. And his response was basically, no, he didn’t think it was.

I can kind of see his point. I mean, one of the things I looooove about Facebook is that I can get on there, see what someone from my past is up to…and never really have to talk to them if I don’t want to. You know that bitchy girl from high school? Well, now you know she’s got 10 kids and not looking as “peppy” as she once did. But did you actually have to talk to her to find that out? Nope. You just got on Facebook.

You know that weird cousin who never comes to any of the family reunions and you’re always wondering why? Well, now you know he’s running his own kayak rental company up in Alaska and lives in a single room cabin with no plumbing or electricity. Did you really have to interact to figure that out? Heck, no. You just saw the pictures of his Unabomber-like structure in a friendly little place called Facebook.

And don’t even get me started on that boss you once had who you were positive would end up in jail some day. He may not have access to Facebook, but you can get the low-down when you peek onto his wife’s page.

So I can see how this isn’t exactly bringing us closer together. Because we don’t actually talk anymore. We just update our status.

I think I was one of the last hold-outs when Facebook came around. The last official hold-out is my sister who absolutely refuses to get on. And then asks me to look people up for her (which I think is cheating).

I wasn’t a My Space person and I don’t Tweet (although I may have to start…so be prepared to be annoyed about the fact that I’m comin' atcha from all over the place). My friends kept telling me that I needed to get on, but I didn’t want to. It took a major incentive to get me signed up.

A cocktail party.

One of my sorority sisters told me that I had to get on because they were all getting together at someone’s house for some wine and appetizers. Now up until that point, I couldn’t see the point of “social networking.” But throw in a $10 bottle of wine and my fingers couldn’t type fast enough.

After that...I never looked back. I started getting on there, looking people up from my past, and taking meaningless quizzes from people who couldn’t spell “personality” but in 3 questions could tell me every facet of mine.

I couldn’t wait to find out which Smurf I was and how high I could get my score on Word Twist.

I became somewhat of a Facebook addict when my husband had been gone for about a year. You know how that is…you can’t sleep, so you get on there and see who else is online at 3 AM.

And let me tell you…in my social network…I’m flying solo.

I started doing what I suspect a lot of you started doing…searching for the word “widow” to see what came up. And that just changed everything for me.

I started meeting “strangers” who, after awhile, didn’t seem so strange. I started connecting with people whom I’d never met, but seemed to know me better than people I’d known for years. I was able to post questions, vent, “talk” to people who, like me, were up at 3 AM.

I know that since I’ve started the Widow Chick page, a lot of us have marveled at how amazing it is that we can connect in this way. It would be better if we could all be together in person, but, years ago, widows would suffer alone in silence because they had no way to get in touch with one another. And now…we may be suffering, but silence is not what you hear.

It’s the sound of keys clicking away.

So, I guess I can kind of see Mr. Sorkin’s point. In some ways, it’s made us drift a little further apart as a society.

But in the Widow World…it’s a raging success.