Grief Slowed Me Down
Getting through my to-do list wasn’t much of an issue before my mom died. In the midst of the hustle and bustle, I could always manage to get through the day and its tasks without really having to give it second-thought. It was like an adrenaline rush after getting through the 101 items on the list.
This was all before grief plummeted into my life. It kicked the wind out of me, and everything changed. The adrenaline rush and the ability to get on with my day, now haunted me. Getting through my days now felt exhausting. My mind, body, and spirit didn’t know how to process the magnitude of my mother’s death or the fact that it really did happen. “What happened?” was a question that repeated itself in my head for months. My spirit, mind, and body were simultaneously trying to process what had happened, along with the right now, and the uncertainty of what tomorrow would look like. My entire system felt like it was on overdrive. I lost her but I still had to function. I was falling apart but I still had to focus on planning her funeral. I wanted to wake up from this nightmare but having to walk away from her grave sealed the permanence of my reality. Her death didn’t make sense. Hell, even today, I still struggle to make any sense of it. I knew how to process life but not how to process death.
There was so much confusion and chaos in my mind, body, and spirit. All 3 parts of me were communicating different messages. My body moved, as my mind was enraged, and my spirit wanted nothing more than to collapse. And through all of this chaos, I still had to function. I had to return to life. At least that’s what everyone told me. Life resumed approximately 1 week after her death. I returned to school and work. All the while, feeling like I was living in a hell that no one else could see or feel. My insides screamed and agonized. How the fuck was this my reality? She was just here. I had just spoken to her. How was it possible that she was now gone? Shock and disbelief were my constant companions.
It wasn’t long, before I felt depleted and resentful. Depleted from feeling like I was living in two separate worlds, internally and externally. Resentful because life still continued even though mine felt like it had stopped the day she died. I remember bursting out in rage weeks after she died. It was nearing the end of my school semester and I had multiple assignments due. Everything felt like it was caving in on me and I was suffocating. I pushed and pushed until I finally broke. I broke and that’s when I screamed and cried. It felt like a reaction out of anger and yes I was angry. I was angry that I could no longer make sense of my reality but was expected to be a part of everyone’s reality. I could no longer continue pushing and moving forward. All I could do was be. All I could do was grieve. All I could do was cry and hate that this was the world that I now had to live in, a world without my mom. I could no longer keep my composure and act like everything was fine because I wasn’t fine. I allowed myself to fall apart and for once I was okay with it.
Things took much more time because I was still trying to make sense of my life after loss. I am still making sense of my life after loss. Being a part of all of these realities can be exhausting. I couldn’t make sense of my reality and in the weeks after my mom died, I retreated and gave myself time to be alone with myself, my thoughts, and my emotions. Talking was exhausting, seeing people was exhausting, doing was exhausting, even existing felt exhausting. I needed to sit in my dark hole alone until I was able to process what had happened. Today, I no longer try to push myself beyond the new limits that I now face. If I can check-off 1 out of the 101 items off the list, I have done enough. Also, if I don’t check-off any items on the list, I know I have done enough. I have done enough because for a long time I thought I had to continue, when my mind, body, and spirit were asking me to stop. Pushing through or powering through is just not an option all the time. Stopping or taking rest when you need it is not a sign of weakness. It’s an act of self-love. It is how we can rescue ourselves from the chaos. While grief has slowed me down, this experience has also helped me realized that my worth is not scaled by my to-do list or how many items I can check-off the list. None of that matters. What truly matters is you and me. We have always been enough. And if today, you too are feeling tired, remember to rest. Your mind, body, and spirit will thank you.
