It’s been just shy of six weeks since my mom left this world. My life has felt like it was hit by a huge earthquake, and the aftershocks certainly haven’t stopped. I got home from school today and for some reason started asking myself, “What does life look like 6 weeks after losing my mom?” And then I felt led to share it on the blog I haven’t used in years. Why? Not out of pity, or because I want attention. I was just thinking about how our perceptions of people are purely from social media. And on social media, people only ever post the polished, cleaned up, best versions of themselves. I don’t fault anyone for that. I would normally do the same thing. But today I felt that maybe we needed a few more honest, less glamorous snapshots of life. So I’m going to be vulnerably honest, in the hopes that someone else currently going through a rough time might read this and realize that they aren’t alone, or crazy for not being okay.
With that being said, what does my life look like six weeks after losing my mom? It looks like trying to keep it together when I set foot in a church service for the first time since, because I instantly thought about how my mom believed with 100% certainty that God was going to heal her. And He didn’t. It feels like the worst ache in my chest at the verse of the worship song saying how God can do absolutely anything.
It looks like breakdowns without warning, because everything reminds me of her. And I do mean everything. Driving past the place where we used to get coffee after my classes, wearing clothes that she went shopping with me for, sunsets, thoughts of my future, memories from my past. The list is never-ending because she is so intertwined in everything. I’m half her after all.
Life looks like sitting outside on the first warm day of the year and crying with my sister, knowing that Mom would’ve been out there soaking up the warmth and sunshine, asking us if we wanted to go for a walk, or a drive by the water. It looks like anxiety attacks brought on by being alone for long periods of time, and not being able to sleep due to reoccurring nightmares of losing more people I love.
I've never been one to get angry easily, but my new life looks like having to leave the room so I won't go off on someone when they want to complain about how unbearable their mom is, because I would give anything to have my mom back. I long to hear her bugging me about leaving a dish in the sink or needing to clean the cat litter box.
And my new life looks like feeling this sudden rage watching someone who gets paid millions of dollars to play a game cry over winning the Superbowl, because earlier that day my heart broke as I watched my daddy cry because of all he had lost.
A lot of people have remarked on how strong I am with everything I've had to go through in the last two months, but if I’m being completely transparent, I don't feel anything close to strong.
Some days I just want to curl up in a ball and do nothing. I don’t want to study for the tests I have every week, I don’t want to go to school, I don’t want to talk. Some days I don’t want to even graduate from the extremely competitive program I worked so hard to get into, because the fear of the pain I’ll feel knowing my mom missed it competes with my desire to do something with my life. I used to feel so motivated, but now I’m just trying not to drown.
I’m not going to lie or sugar coat this; life is really hard right now. I expect it will continue to be for a long, long time. But every day is a new day, and even though they’re extremely hard, I’m determined to keep going. Even on the days I don’t want to, if only because I refuse to let my mom down.
Real people aren’t always happy, aren’t always strong, and do not always have it together. And that’s okay.
Real people aren’t always happy, aren’t always strong, and do not always have it together. And that’s okay.
