My grandma was an iconic woman. When I think of strength, of a strong person, I think of her. But she wasn’t just strong in the typical sense of the word—she was an extremely unique blend of strong and compassionate. Losing my grandma on August 1, 2020, was a devastating blow. Losing someone is never easy; I’ve lost people before, but this loss has been the biggest one to date. My brothers and I grew up with my grandma—she had an in-law apartment in my parents’ basement—and was such a big part of our day-to-day lives. She was at everything we ever did, celebrated every milestone with us; we’d see her randomly in the driveway as she stepped out of her Mercedes after a day of shopping and running errands all by herself. She was fiercely independent, and always put family first. She took care of each and every one of us and never wanted anyone to fuss over her. She was extremely humble, and instilled the family values we all have today. She was one-of-a-kind, irreplaceable. She never let anything keep her down, and I told her one time that everyone could learn something from her. She added: “a lot of people could learn something from us.” I was flattered.
After my grandma passed, I received one of the nicest texts from my boyfriend’s mother. She told me how sorry she was for my loss, and that she believed my grandma’s beautiful and strong spirit lived on in me, and to cherish it and embrace it. The text was so thoughtful and comforting, it brought tears to my eyes. My boyfriend’s mom knew how much I looked up to my grandma; I’d made it no secret that she was and still is my role model.
At the time of my grandma’s passing I was in a lot of emotional and physical turmoil from things outside of her death, and that, mingled together with the complex emotions in the wake of losing someone, was a lot for me to handle at once.
Growing up, I’d learned not to show my emotions. I’d adopted that mentality of “it is what it is” and ran with it. Something bad happened to me that was outside of my control? Oh well, too bad, life’s not fair, let’s move on. I ignored it. My neck and shoulder and relationship and entire life are falling apart all because of a drunk driver? Well, it’s out of my control, and it could’ve been worse, so I can’t get upset. Someone else always has it worse; things always could be worse, and there’s no use crying over it, better luck next time! I took the mentality of toxic positivity and bulldozed my way through life. I essentially ignored everything that ever happened to me. Sure, I’d let myself feel things a little bit—I’d cry and get upset in private—but I never dwelled in sadness or anger or even acknowledged anything that directly affected me because I was too focused on making the best out of everything. The idea of getting upset about something outside of my control was baffling to me; I couldn’t fathom it.
But when things are directly affecting you and changing the course of your life, after awhile, they kinda become hard to ignore.
I’d been drowning in multiple layers of loss and grief and pain for years, and it finally all came to a head before my grandma passed. I’d been running from it and trying to ignore it in vein of what I perceived to be strength. Sure, I was picking myself up day in and day out and moving on with my life in spite of it all, but underneath, I was a mess. Everyone had always told me how strong I was, how they admired my dedication to keep going, but deep inside, I was drowning. I was suffocating. I’d finally hit rock bottom, and I knew I needed a change.
I sought help because I’d finally had enough. I could no longer ignore the things that had happened to and changed me; I could no longer ignore the things and people that kept me up at night and haunted me during the day. As I began to untangle everything and work through it, I lost my grandmother unexpectedly. Just as I was beginning to learn about feelings and, for the first time in my life, experience and feel emotions other than positivity and “let’s look on the bright side”, I suddenly had all these new feelings of grief to contend with. For months I felt like I was spinning out of control. I suddenly got anxious and overwhelmed during times I didn’t previously. Some days I lacked motivation to do anything. Some days I didn’t know how to process everything I was feeling and it took everything out of me. I was told to be gentle and compassionate with myself, and I had no idea what that meant. I didn’t know what to do. I began to feel like I wasn’t as strong as the people around me seemed to think, I wasn’t as strong as my grandmother. I’d been a prisoner to toxic positivity and denying myself my feelings, and then I’d become a prisoner to my feelings once I finally allowed myself to feel them because I didn’t know what in the world to do with them. The irony is not lost on me.
I began to do deep breathing exercises and journaling daily. I’ve always loved to write (hence this blog, lol) and I’d journaled in the past during difficult times. I picked it up again, but this time I really went in deep. I wrote out everything I was feeling and didn’t worry about grammatical errors or spelling mistakes. I simply let my thoughts, feelings—everything—flow. The goal of doing this was to try and help myself untangle and work through my emotions. That deep breathing segued into meditation, still accompanied by journaling, journaling, and more journaling. For the first time ever, I let myself acknowledge that I lost many things in my car accident in 2017. I allowed myself to feel waves and moments of sadness for lost hope and dreams. I began to identify my feelings rather than push them away. I wrote about my feelings and talked about them with my boyfriend so I’d no longer hold them inside—I didn’t want to carry this around anymore, I didn’t want to always put on a brave face for the world. I wanted to feel things, because I knew that what I’d been doing wasn’t working—I was still stuck in the same place, having not healed from anything. At the beginning of 2021, I found The Book of Awakening by Mark Nepo. Throughout all of this, I started understanding that dealing with my emotions led me to healing faster and in a much, much healthier way. And slowly—very slowly—I started learning how to identify complex and not-so-pleasant emotions without letting them take hold of me.
Thanks to COVID, my grandmother’s memorial mass got pushed back to last week. Despite the sad occasion, I felt as though she was with her family that day; I felt her smiling down on us from heaven. I of course cried during the mass, but afterwards, I realized that I’d finally come to peace with her passing. This past Sunday, I truly felt what my boyfriend’s mother was talking about when she said that she believed my grandmother’s strong spirit lived on through me.
My grandmother loved the saying “it is what it is,” but despite her strong mentality, she also embodied compassion, kindness, caring, love, and peace. She allowed herself to feel things, to care for and love others. She helped out the sick, saved up money every year and donated to causes and charities she believed in. She didn’t hold anything back but never said anything that would hurt another. She listened to you when you talked, allowed you to sift through your emotions; she was the absolute pillar of strength and compassion. I, for the first time ever, feel like I have finally found this balance. I’ve taken my old mentality—it is what it is, life isn’t fair, you have to pick yourself up and move on—and tweaked it. I don’t feel entitled to perfect health or a pain-free life without struggles—I’ve never felt entitled to anything—and I truly believe that life isn’t fair, and sometimes things just are, and we won’t always have answers for everything. So when things happen, and living with this neck injury and navigating the challenges it brings to my life, I still refuse to let it keep me down, but I will no longer deny myself moments of anger, frustration, or sadness. A couple weeks ago I was struggling to get comfortable wearing my neck brace while working after seeing my neurosurgeon and orthopedic and I felt so frustrated I burst into tears. I let myself get my frustration and moment of “how am I going to live like this for the rest of my life?” out, and then I was able to move on with my day.
I no longer deny myself my emotions. Instead, I let myself acknowledge things and work through them, but I don’t allow them to control me. I’m honest with myself when I’m having an off-day, when I’m feeling overwhelmed or mentally exhausted. I’m learning that for me, being gentle with myself during difficult times means continuing to move forward while taking extra time for mindfulness practices that day—such as longer journaling, meditation, deep breathing, walks in nature, etc. It means accepting myself and my limitations and learning how to live fully with them. It’s about being present, taking time to slow down.
It is so important to ask for help when you need it, to let others know that you are struggling. As much as we all want to, we can’t do everything alone. There is strength in admitting this and acting on it—not defeat. It is not a weakness to cry or get upset, nor is it a weakness to be positive in a bad situation so you don’t wallow in self-pity or let it control you. It’s important to make the best of everything, to understand that yes, life isn’t fair and as humans we aren’t entitled to anything, but that doesn’t mean we have to ignore what’s happened/happening to us. We need to deal with things in order to heal and move on, or else we will never move forward. It’s important to take time for yourself and practice mental health exercises such as journaling or meditation. It’s important to reach out to a sick friend or family member who’s going through a hard time, to love and let others know they are loved so we can receive love and learn to love ourselves. We all struggle, we all have moments of self-doubt, but with work and time and patience, we can learn to connect our mind with our hearts, and live a fuller, happier, and healthier life. This is what I’ve learned on my journey of self-discovery and healing—a journey I’m still on—and from my grandma. I feel stronger than ever.
