Reflections on Grief

This month marks one year since my mom Maria died, and I feel like sharing.

It’s been one of the hardest years of my life, to be honest. It hasn’t been without its ups, of course (I’m engaged and making wedding plans!), but I’ve had more downs than I care to think about. Ups don’t counteract downs. They just kind of… coexist.

My grief is triggered by seemingly random things sometimes and it can be intense when it happens.

One example: last year at Sasquatch in late May, I was watching Florence & The Machine on the main stage. She was killing it, in this flowy, faery-like pink dress; something that I imagine my mom would like. She started singing her song titled Mother and, despite the meaning of the song probably being about something completely different from grieving about the loss of a mother, it hit me hard. The song has a chorus:

Mother, make me
Make me a big tall tree
So I can shed my leaves and let it blow through me
Mother, make me
Make me a big grey cloud
So I can rain on you things I can’t say out loud

If you know my mom at all, you know she loved trees and nature, and she was always willing to be a sympathetic ear when something crappy happened in my life. It was only a month since her death and it was still feeling raw. It felt like Florence was singing about me, and I just lost it, tears streaming down my cheeks. There are other lines in that song that struck me as fitting, too. Check it out, it’s beautiful:

I’ve cried spontaneously about my mom at work multiple times, even once in front of my boss (he was awesome about it). The littlest things can set me off, and often it’s not the things that I think will trigger me. It feels random. These episodes have more and more time in-between them as time goes on, but they still happen. I had one this morning thinking about how good my life is right now, and wishing she could be here to see it, in person. Just like that, happiness turned to sadness, and I teared up on my way to work. If my mom were here, she’d tell me to let it all out, cry it out, don’t hold it in. I’ve been trying to do that, though in our society it definitely feels taboo to cry in public.

Over the past year, I’ve changed a lot. The biggest thing is that I’ve started learning how to properly take care of myself. I’ve discovered some latent anxiety and depression and have had to learn how to handle that. Other than medication, I’ve started exercising, meditating, and journaling regularly. I went to a therapist for a while. I’ve been trying to find hobbies that don’t stress me out but also give me a sense of purpose, like cross-stitching.

One lesson I’ve learned is that I’m bad at opening up to people when I need it most… I tend keep it bottled inside to avoid upsetting others with my grief or seemingly stupid anxieties. Honestly, I want to talk about my mom. Even if it upsets me. She meant–and still means–so much to me, and I want to share that with others. I’ve started trying to open up to friends when I get upset rather than keeping it in my head. Attention friends: Please do not hesitate to ask me about her. I love talking about her. Don’t worry about upsetting me.

I’ve also been–slowly–gaining some self-confidence. I survived through this past year and I feel like I’ve come out of it a better person. If I can do that, shit, I can do anything. ✊

This year, on the day of her death, April 22, I’ll be at the Coachella music festival. I think she’d like that I’ll be with friends, enjoying music, having fun. There may be tears, but that’s okay. ❤️