20 weeks ago my life changed as I sat with my mom for the last time. I can sill see her and hear her calling my name. Grief is not something I've ever allowed myself to feel until now. Thank you for your words, it helps me to not feel so alone. Sending love and breath.
Hi Nat, I'm sorry I'm only responding to this now. I'm guessing when I read your message initially, I was caught up in the chaos of life and wasn't able to make time to write back. Thank you for sharing your experience, I really appreciate the feedback and it makes me feel that connection knowing that you are allowing yourself to feel the waves of grief. It eases but it's always there waiting to hijack you when you least expect it. I've noticed that grocery shopping has become challenging for me. The lump in my gut surfaces the moment I step into the specialty food aisle. Seeing items like coconut milk and fish sauce triggers memories of how much my mom loved when I made her chicken curry, and I regret not making it more often for her. I have literally fallen into the shelves, sobbing on two occasions now. It's something I've never felt before. It's like the wind blows the pages back to the chapter where I'm sitting in the room with her waiting for her last breath. I welcome the wind, it calms down and then I'm ok again. Sending you strength and healing to your heart. xx
I just want to give you a long tight hug or sit with you in silence. The dance with grief is sometimes the loneliest, the steps change, we stumble, we sway, we sometimes dance along with others, and then when we think we know the steps they suddenly sweep out from underneath us and we start all over again. My heart is with you cousin, always.
This really hit. My grief is raw. A week ago I lost my childhood best friend, Mary-Jane to cancer. You know you have to let the stages of grief flow over you. Fighting it only makes it harder. Hugs to you my friend.
Oh Maggie, I'm so sorry. If you're interested in some reading that is really helping me through this, The Year of Magical Thinking by Joan Didion, When Things Fall Apart by Pema Chödrön. Sending a big squeeze to you. x
The first and probably hardest step for me is to tell myself its okay to struggle, its okay to not be okay. It takes away a lot of pressure if you don't pretend everything is just fine.
Thats when i find solace. And then I take all these emotions and put them in my writing.
And it's really inspiring to read your words. Being honest and vulnerable is not always easy, but you touch a lot of hearts. Thank you so much
Thanks for sharing Lexi. You are so right. It’s ok not to be ok.. no need to control it! It’s kind of a mystery what happens when you sit down to write about something and then it completely turns into something else if you don’t steer it. I guess just getting the words out helps me identify what I truly love and enjoy, recognizing when I'm in flow or feeling anxious. When I pause and notice these emotional and physical reactions, I realize the importance of setting boundaries between myself and anything causing that friction. It’s my grief boundary... a way to create healthy space for myself while I’m still mourning.
20 weeks ago my life changed as I sat with my mom for the last time. I can sill see her and hear her calling my name. Grief is not something I've ever allowed myself to feel until now. Thank you for your words, it helps me to not feel so alone. Sending love and breath.
Hi Nat, I'm sorry I'm only responding to this now. I'm guessing when I read your message initially, I was caught up in the chaos of life and wasn't able to make time to write back. Thank you for sharing your experience, I really appreciate the feedback and it makes me feel that connection knowing that you are allowing yourself to feel the waves of grief. It eases but it's always there waiting to hijack you when you least expect it. I've noticed that grocery shopping has become challenging for me. The lump in my gut surfaces the moment I step into the specialty food aisle. Seeing items like coconut milk and fish sauce triggers memories of how much my mom loved when I made her chicken curry, and I regret not making it more often for her. I have literally fallen into the shelves, sobbing on two occasions now. It's something I've never felt before. It's like the wind blows the pages back to the chapter where I'm sitting in the room with her waiting for her last breath. I welcome the wind, it calms down and then I'm ok again. Sending you strength and healing to your heart. xx
I just want to give you a long tight hug or sit with you in silence. The dance with grief is sometimes the loneliest, the steps change, we stumble, we sway, we sometimes dance along with others, and then when we think we know the steps they suddenly sweep out from underneath us and we start all over again. My heart is with you cousin, always.
xoxoxo Love you cousin.
This really hit. My grief is raw. A week ago I lost my childhood best friend, Mary-Jane to cancer. You know you have to let the stages of grief flow over you. Fighting it only makes it harder. Hugs to you my friend.
Oh Maggie, I'm so sorry. If you're interested in some reading that is really helping me through this, The Year of Magical Thinking by Joan Didion, When Things Fall Apart by Pema Chödrön. Sending a big squeeze to you. x
Thank you ❤️
This really got me B. Thank you for your courage in transforming your pain into creativity
Thank you! I just emailed you!! xxxx
The first and probably hardest step for me is to tell myself its okay to struggle, its okay to not be okay. It takes away a lot of pressure if you don't pretend everything is just fine.
Thats when i find solace. And then I take all these emotions and put them in my writing.
And it's really inspiring to read your words. Being honest and vulnerable is not always easy, but you touch a lot of hearts. Thank you so much
Thanks for sharing Lexi. You are so right. It’s ok not to be ok.. no need to control it! It’s kind of a mystery what happens when you sit down to write about something and then it completely turns into something else if you don’t steer it. I guess just getting the words out helps me identify what I truly love and enjoy, recognizing when I'm in flow or feeling anxious. When I pause and notice these emotional and physical reactions, I realize the importance of setting boundaries between myself and anything causing that friction. It’s my grief boundary... a way to create healthy space for myself while I’m still mourning.