Backlash ensues.

It seems my last blog post has caused quite the stir. Interesting, considering I never stated the names of any of the people I was writing about. Since one of them is no longer living, I can only assume the other chose to tell everyone I was writing about her.

Attention.

Keeping it real folks, I did not set out to "smear" that person. Anyone who knows me knows that writing is therapeutic for me. Something that was causing pain needed to get out of my head. I waited over two months hoping the other person would reach out. I was the one who was judged, remember? Was I supposed to be the one to beg forgiveness for my honesty? Should I have begged her to try to see my perspective? Do I always have to see things the way she does?

I became a part of this 46 Mommas group way back in 2009. I thought then that getting 46 women in one room was a crazy idea. Five years later, I still do. I've met some amazing people and I've met some nut jobs. Most of the women I've met fall somewhere in the middle. One of the challenges of joining a group like this after your child has died is that no one knows you as an actual "cancer mom." You're an "angel momma" - a phrase that bites me in the ass every time I hear it. I have been a part of conversations with other "cancer moms" where it was like everyone at the table forgot that I once actively lived the life of doctor appointments, labs, and scan anxiety that they still live. It's only when they realize I haven't said anything in a while that someone feels pity and throws me a bone - "did you ever have to deal with this with Keeghan?"

It's lonely. It hurts. It isn't fair.

But because I was friends with these people, I smiled and nodded a lot, and then cried in the car on the way home. When something happens, i.e., the death of the man I spoke of before, that I have far more knowledge and understanding of than these other people do and I express an honest opinion, I'm wrong.

So be it. Hate me. Call me names. Make yourself into a martyr. Let anger turn you into someone like the man who died.

My life will continue on. I will forever cherish the sisterhood I once felt with that person, albeit tarnished by the way it ended. Those who appreciate my honesty, understand my perspective because they have been there, or accept my perspective because they honestly can't come close to understanding it, will still be my friends.

To all of the saints out there looking down on me - I wish you well.