Unhaunted

 It's been months since I wrote anything. The problem was that I didn't get any comments or acknowledgment. I got discouraged and stopped. However, I feel like someone within the online realm can benefit from this. Without the expectation of success. 

There is a reason why I have been compelled to start a blog. It's origins began on an ordinary evening in 2007, through an extraordinary person.

"From a hopeless place, a hopeful voice."

Anderson Cooper introduced viewers to Miles Levin, a cancer patient turned blogger. He chronicled his journey through a blog which had inspired thousands of readers around the world. Miles found meaning throughout his own journey, even when he was facing the last months of his life. I watched the segment, deeply moved and in awe of his strength and courage. Showing so much grace and wisdom that transcended his eighteen years. I reached out to Miles through email and we were able to communicate with each other briefly. How he took the time to reply to my messages while he faced a mirage of treatments and other responsibilities meant so much. 

On August 19th, I was at the mall when I experienced a severance. I still remember the feeling and my confusion. When I returned home and read the latest update, I understood why. Miles had died. To this day, this has been the toughest loss I've had to deal with. One that I was not able to express, let alone talk about. We only knew each online and the loss was exclusively reserved for his friends and family. How can I grieve for someone I hardly knew? I had been turned away from a support group (to be fair it was for cancer patients and their relatives). Still, it confirmed that my feelings of grief were wrong. For years I held in this grief, pushing it down. It was as if someone was pushing my head underwater, not allowing me to breathe.

I had made significant progress in dealing with this grief. However, it wasn't until recently when I was finally forced to truly confront the loss that has haunted me for years and laying the ghosts to rest. I wouldn't be doing much since I'm living through a pandemic and I'm high risk. There was no way around this. Over the next several weeks, my therapist and I undertook this difficult but necessary journey. Traveling through the cavernous chambers of the past, I was able to answer the one question that had haunted me the most:

Why was I mourning more for Miles than for my father?

Miles had fought for his life until the end. Whereas my father refused any medical treatment and had a disregard to his health. The resentment had been brewing for years and it finally came to head. It also led me to another heartbreaking realization. I never really had parents to raise me, especially since my mother's state of mind was unraveling. Schizophrenia stole her away from me. Then again, she adopted dad's attitude in refusing medical treatment. 

I had kept myself inside a fortress for so long. I had been haunted, allowing the ghosts to reign. But those ghosts have been laid to rest. The walls that encircled me came down. I have embraced the grief, taking back the right I have been denied. Miles and I were friends, despite the distance and differences. There is no one size fit all when it comes to friendship. And with the pandemic raging on, the online world has served as a way to keep in touch. As someone told me on Facebook after posting my personal piece on my grief journey, "You discovered this before the world, through a meaningful friendship."

I can't help but feel that Miles has passed down the torch to me. Picking up where he left. I certainly won't gain a large readership (a blogger can hope, right?), but the core of this blog isn't just a tribute to my dear friend. But to offer encouragement and acknowledgment. Trying to find meaning in the midst of a world wide pandemic. 

Click here to read my personal piece, which oddly enough was published on September 11th. It seems fitting, though.

First Post

I'm not new to blogging. Years ago, I reviewed books through a blog and in exchange I received free books. Talk about a win-win. I had to give up blogging since life had other plans and I wanted to devote more time to writing. But deep down, I couldn't find myself to blog because of insecurities and asking myself "Who would want to read about what I write? Why bother wasting my time and that of the readers?"
Enter COVID-19. The much-feared Coronavirus. For someone who deals with severe anxiety and consults Dr. Google on a daily basis, this is their worst nightmare. I had been recently hired as a clerk at my college and on the same week I was supposed to start orientation, it closed. It was to signal a new beginning after an otherwise hellish year. And now, I find myself thrown into another crisis with millions of others whose lives have also been upended.
Sadly, it seems we'll be in this for the long haul. The opportunity presented itself and I can't no longer ignore the familiar urge to write. And I don't really mean the stories I created. But my own story. Ruth's story.
Writing has been a salvation. A saving grace. A purpose for living. Every word written, every story told, I've had to confront hard truths and work my way through difficult circumstances. In other words, writing through it (hence the blog's title).
Hopefully, this will be a win-win. To the reader, who might find something meaningful in my words and for me, sharing this journey with the world.