I write about subjects I’m passionate about, and it hasn’t always been easy.
While I don’t think of myself as a particularly controversial person, apparently others do.
These days, I write a daily column for Guardian US.
Sexism is alive and well and has lots of anonymous email addresses!
The other day, I had two emails in front of me.
One was from a young woman thanking me for my writing.
She said my books had inspired her to take women’s studies classes.
Take a guess which one impacted me more?
Not too long ago, it would have been the hateful email.
I would have let it ruin my morning, maybe my whole day.
Today, I believe the positivity instead of the hate.
But it took me a long time to get there.
How many violent threats today?
At one point, the threats got so bad that the authorities recommended I leave my home.
At the same time, I was also receiving wonderful, supportive messages about my work.
Or I’d get email that simply said, “Thank you.”
I know I’m not the only woman who does this.
My case is an extreme example, of course.
But hatred or just run-of-the-mill nastiness is something that affects us all.
With my blog, books and TV appearances, I had the career I’d always wanted.
But no matter how many accolades I received, I never felt as if I deserved any of it.
I told myself that my success was a fluke.
That my friendships and work relationships were superficial.
Yes, I had worked all hours of the night to get my blog up and running.
I agonized over my research and writing.
This kind of thinking, combined with the daily threats, took a toll.
Making it even worse was that I was pregnant with my first child.
What was supposed to be a happy, healthy time was tainted by the vitriolfrom others and myself.
I was hospitalized immediately.
Within two days, I developed another complication, called HELLP syndrome.
My liver was failing.
If we did nothing, I could die.
I realized how much love I had in my life.
Slowly, slowly, Layla got better.
One by one, tubes were removed.
She started to grow.
She started to look like a healthy (but still very small) baby.
I remember the moment I stepped out of the hospital and realized that it was hot outside.
I had completely forgotten what season it was.
Everything that had dominated my life before Layla suddenly seemed so small in comparison.
Some of this was not for the better.
Anonymous hate couldn’t hurt me.
Something happening to Layla could.
When I began getting back to work, I barely looked at the hate mail.
Sometimes I even laughed at it.
Their words meant nothing in the face of so much loving action.
And then I began to make changes.
I left the website I had cofounded.
I began thinking about myself and my work differently as well.
I sat with them, believed them and I responded: “Thank you.”
There will always be self-doubts; there will always be haters.
It’s all about turning down their volume.
After this realization, I read an article about emergency responders and the idea of resilience.
We’re taught that resilience means “bouncing back,” returning to our original shape after a trauma.
But resilience doesn’t have to mean only thatgoing back to being the same person you were.
It can also mean continuing on in the face of hardship.
Getting through the day is a successthat’s a lesson Layla taught me.
Commending ourselves for doing our best and for receiving even small acts of love can be revelatoryeven radical.
Photo Credit: Michael Larson
