What have I got to lose?

“Write about the moment that everything changed,” Brad says. I know when that was. The flashbacks keep me up at night. The lingering brokenness of it all stains my otherwise wonderful life.

I’m a blessed individual, but just like everyone else, I’ve got a story to tell.

The question is, can I write it? Don’t click to the next post just yet, I know we all have the same battle. But until you have been kept up at night for weeks thinking about the repercussions of a story, this feeling cannot fully be understood.

My family. I have a wonderful family. I have two parents who love me, who would kill for me. Two parents who would drop any and everything if ever there were a reason to.

I have grandparents who shaped me. Grandparents who were like vacation parents. I lived on pancakes and board games every Saturday morning, and never went to a gymnastics meet without a fan club.

I have a sister who is close to my age. A sister who is as smart as they come. Someone I can learn from, someone I can look up to.

Why am I whining about my life? Divorce plagues more families than I care to count. Distain and bitterness cloaks the hearts of more people than I care to know.

I’m not special, why is this the only story I’m inclined to write? If I could write about something else. Anything else. My family could read it and be proud of my work. Not offended, not betrayed or exposed. Is it the right thing to do? Or should I duck out and change my story to something less detrimental to my life.

I wish I knew the answer. I haven’t decided just yet. My family life is like the calm after a tsunami. Wreckage and construction everywhere you look, but there is healing. The sun promises to shine, but still, no one trusts the water. Every ripple reminds us that it could all come tumbling down again.

I don’t want to rock the boat. It’s always me who rocks the boat. It is always fine until I open my big mouth and make it all unravel at the seams again.

But can you blame me? Crooked stitches aren’t good enough for me. I love my family more than anything. I love them all equally, and I want them back. I want us back to normal. I want to help but I can’t. It’s over my head, out of my league.

Brad says I have to confront my demons. That I have to stop worrying about how this story would affect my family. I have to create a safe-haven for them to talk about their sides of the story. As easy as that is for him to say, I know no such thing exists. I’ve tried, it always ends in an inferno. I don’t want to cause any more destruction. We’ve had more than our fair share.

But Invictus implores me to tell my story, and as much as I want to run from it, I know I shouldn’t.  I don’t yet know how it will all play out, if I will regret this, or if it will even be worth it. But from where I stand, I am taking this challenge on. After all, what have I got to lose?