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Terrible, Thanks for Asking.

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I’m a podcast lover…ok, I’m a podcast binge-er. {…I devoured Serial in 2 sittings, Ted Radio Hour is on constant loop in my car…} But, I’d put off listening to Terrible, Thanks for Asking.

Why? I think the answer is in the title. It’s about a real woman who has real {hard} conversations with other real people. Episode #1 was about her life: How she miscarried her second pregnancy while her husband and father were both dying from cancer. In the span of 6 weeks, she had buried her dad, widowed, and was raising a toddler by herself.

Yea. Doesn’t that sound like a ruckus good time? Actually, it’s like a car accident – or a fire – you can’t look but you can’t look away. I don’t know what compelled me to start listening a couple weeks ago, in May, just days before the anniversary of Madelyn’s death. I think it was because I had a longer than normal commute and all my other listening options were stale.

On the return trip from the ‘longer than normal commute,’ I stopped for a quick happy hour drink from Sonic. An hour later I’m still sitting in the stall, bawling like a little baby, wondering if I just lived there now. And the moment episode one was finished I started into episode two.

I took three things away from that afternoon in the small town Sonic parking lot.

  1. As much as it hurts to relive your past sadness. Hearing others stories {even if they are from strangers} builds connections and lets you know you’re not alone. No normal functioning human being would ever want to cause this type of pain to another – and also, it’s nice knowing you’re not alone
  2. I was finally able to put words to the feelings that I’ve had ever since Maddie’s death. I remember wishing my c-section wound would stay unhealed forever. I thought as long as I had physical wounds to show then the intense emotional wounds were still allowed.Sometimes I crave those raw, bubbling to the top, feel all the feels, never know if/when you’re going to explode emotions of the early days. Just like my c-section scar, my emotional wounds have begun to scab and scar over. That intensive throbbing pain of my loss has mellowed into a constant ache. While most days, and in most situations, that is ideal – there are times I want to feel that extreme emotion. I feel like having those hardcore emotions sometimes remind me that my love and loss was, and is, real.
  3. Schadenfreude. And also, anti-schadenfreude. I don’t care how long it’s been since your loss. How far you’ve come. How you’ve turned your pain into purpose, mess into a message, and suffering into soul-searching…There will always be a part of you that compares your story to others. You look for the similarities and the differences… 

    It’s human nature to want to compare and contrast. I find myself thanking God I “didn’t have to make that decision” and {on the flip side of that coin} saying to myself “…well, I had to _____ and she only _____”. There’s almost something healing in being able to ‘objectively critique’ another’s misfortune compared to your own. {Go ahead, throw your rotten tomatoes and judge me for that last statement. I’m standing by it.}

All that being said, I’m kinda hooked {in small doses – otherwise, I’ll have a mental breakdown…} and I invite you to take a listen too. Again, you gotta be ready for REALLY REAL discussions, and in that sense, it is very refreshing

Oh, and if Nora McInerny wanted to invite Madelyn and I on an episode, that would be cool too 😉

One thought on “Terrible, Thanks for Asking.

    • Misty Cork

    We lost our son 2/3/20. He was 32, a ptsd firefighter. We did not know he was depressed as he was always smiling…He didn’t want us to know. He ended his life SGW. He saved many, yet we could not save him. Agony


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