I wrote this post last night (Wednesday) and then fell asleep before posting it. And now it’s really late Thursday. But it’s talking about Wednesday. Even though it’s Thursday right now.
I’m really good at clearing up confusion in dates, huh?
I am totally exhausted.
We just spent the day being interviewed for Nightline.
It was weird having them here. It was weird trying to do “normal” things while cameras were rolling. I guess I’ll talk more about all of that in tomorrow’s post.
Today I’m more philosophical.
I’m not sure what to think about it. We’ve felt clearly that we should go forward and continue to share our story. But I’m not sure why. Isn’t this enough? Hasn’t it hit enough people? Haven’t we been vulnerable enough yet? When I try to articulate the purpose behind what we’re doing, I have nothing but the feeling that it’s what we’re supposed to be doing. And while the feelings are clear, they sound pretty flimsily when people question our motives. Yet, they are real. And any time we try to tell ourselves “okay, enough. We’re done. It’s time to stop,” instead of feeling the relief we hope to feel, we feel a knowledge that we aren’t done yet, and that that is not what we are supposed to do.
This is probably one of the most difficult processes of my entire life–moving forward with scary things, knowing that people might assume the worst about our motivations, and just trusting that we know ourselves, and know our connection to the Spirit, and that we know we are taking steps that we are supposed to be taking, even though we don’t know why.
Last night, we did a live radio show–the Gil Gross show. You can hear our interview here.
Going into it, we felt totally terrified. I spent days and days practicing answering questions, trying to prepare. As we sat together waiting for the call, we were filled with dread. What if we say the wrong thing? What if we misrepresent ourselves? What if we misrepresent our faith?
Then Gil got on the phone and asked us questions and we talked and laughed and expressed ourselves clearly and at the end of the interview, he said how much he enjoyed the fact that we were real and honest. He seemed a little touched by that, maybe. Not sure, of course. I don’t know him. But at very least, it seemed that he respected what we were saying.
After that interview, it all seemed to make sense. We are sharing a truth–our truth–in a way that touches people, and people can sense our genuineness. After having been so terrified it was nice to feel a confirmation that we were taking correct steps. It helped us to continue to feel comfortable going forward with Nightline. It was like “okay, this is scary, but in the end it feels good and right, as long as we’re choosy about what things we participate in.”
This morning, when they came and set up, we were filled with the same dread. Lolly and I both said it felt similar to the days when our girls were born–there was this feeling of inevitability, and something difficult and nerve-racking was about to happen, and all we had–the only thing that really mattered in the world–was each other, and we would get through it together. I felt sick to my stomach before the interview started, and then as they questions came, we did loosen up and we were able to say a lot of things and say them correctly. I think for most of it, we were saying our truth in a way that we can feel good about.
The problem with this though is that now our truth is being taken and transformed into a visual medium. Unlike with the radio show which, after ten minutes, was over and done with so we could immediately feel that confirmation of “this was right,” this is completely out of our control, and our most vulnerable truths are subject to the editorial instincts of another person. I trust the producer (who is also the editor of the piece). I think he has our best interest in mind. I think he genuinely wants to represent our story accurately. But somehow that doesn’t assuage the sinking worry at the pit of my stomach that something will be taken out of context, or that some random thing I said that I don’t even remember will be highlighted in a way that totally misrepresents our story.
Let me tell you, that would be totally devastating. It’s a horrible, horrible feeling. I’m praying my heart out that the story comes out well, and that it’s everything it needs to be. I suppose it’s out of our hands now, and now we just wait and hope and pray and trust that it will all be okay.
One thing that I take as a good sign: one of the crew members pulled Lolly aside to talk with her at one point later on in the day, and the thing he emphasized was how much he enjoyed when we talked about our connection, and how beautiful he thought it was that we had such an obvious link to one another. He said he hoped to find that for himself, and he seemed very touched.
So, clearly, there are parts of the interview that are moving. There is the potential that this will be a great piece. And I have confidence that it will end well, and represent our story with integrity.
I am officially too lazy to find a photo for today’s post.
Tomorrow: look forward to my recap of the hilarious things my children did while Nightline was at our house. I’m not kidding, probably the most hilariously awkward thing you could imagine was uttered by my child, and I kind of can’t wait to tell that story.
Also, I should finally have a forum of some kind up tomorrow or Saturday. (Probably just in time to have the discussion be dead, but whatevs.) Thanks for your patience. It’s definitely time to move the Club Unicorn discussion to its own home.
In the meantime, say what you must, but as always, try to be civil and considerate of others’ perspectives.
I was going to try to answer a commonly asked question, but I’m too tired, and I have to get up and go to the temple tomorrow. But don’t worry. We haven’t forgotten.
Good night y’all.