Friday Things // 03.12.2021
The one feeling triggered.
Hi!
Ever have one of those days where you just wake up on the wrong side of the bed? Like from the moment you open your eyes, you’re triggered.
That’s me today. ☠️ Work emails have annoyed me. People have frustrated me. I just want to sit on my couch and drink coffee and ignore everything and everyone until it’s tomorrow. (I mean, maybe not drinking coffee that whole time, because Lord knows that will not turn out well for anyone….. but you know what I mean.)
Instead, I dragged myself outside to sit in the sunshine for a little bit and take a big breath, far away from all the things getting under my skin. And really, I know why everything is feeling like more than I want to handle today; it’s officially one year since my mom was diagnosed with cancer. One year since my family got set onto a path of no return, like one of those board games where one wrong move puts you on a one-way chute, sliding into a pit of dragons or to an alternative universe, whichever is worse. One year since the news that changed my life permanently.
Now, you may also been feeling some kind of way, because yesterday was one year since all of our lives indefinitely changed — one year since the WHO declared COVID-19 a pandemic and most of us were send into a “two week” lockdown. It’s been a hell of a long two weeks, huh? Nevertheless, I don’t think you need to feel inclined to look back and assess the last year of our “new normal,” or feel pressure to find some light or positive takeaway from the last 12 months that made it all worth it, or a teachable moment, or anything else sugarcoating the challenges you’ve faced (and surmounted). Maybe it’s my mood today talking, but I just…. don’t. 🤷♀️ I’m all for throwing sprinkles on a bad day-sundae, but not this time. Maybe we can just agree to let the past rest, and continue moving forward. That light ahead sure is bright and promising.
Earlier this week, I was texting with a friend (hiiii if you’re reading this, Alex!) and mentioned I felt like I probably have come across on the internet as the human version of the sobbing emoji (this one: 😭) these last several months, but I swear I’m not actually 24/7 sad in real life. And I’m really not! It’s just that grief arrived on this day one year ago, and then really settled in and took a permanent spot in my heart once my mom passed in July, and it’s made me even more introspective than I once was (which tbh is saying a lot). I feel happy and normal-ish more days than not, but normal now means permanently missing my mom. It’s living with grief, moving forward with grief, letting the uncomfortableness of grief be normal. * Normal * as in not grieving solo and quietly, checking that box when you think you should be done, and then going back to however life previously was as if nothing has changed, nothing (no one) is missing.
That’s not realistic (or fair to you), whether you’re grieving the loss of a person, or a period of your life, or the way of the world.
I’ve shared this elsewhere before, but this Ted Talk by writer/speaker Nora McInerny really sums it up, at least for me. It’s about normalizing grief, and understanding that not only is it okay and real and that the experience will be unique to each person, but that it’s also something you’re strong enough to get through, and not something that has to be awkward for those around you. Grief doesn’t have to be something we try to quickly and silent push through, or that we watch others navigate and sweep under the rug or ignore (so those in the trenches of grief don’t “get their sad” on everyone else, as Nora says in her speech).
I know this newsletter/site is The Yay Club, and literally has “YAY” in the title, which would possibly (probably) lead you to believe talking about grief and loss and disruption wouldn’t be the type of content you’d find here — but, it is. Right now, anyways, because those have largely been the type of stories I’ve been drawn to writing about in this strange period of life, and because I think a lot of us are feeling disrupted, or at a loss, or grieving for something, and I think the YAY of it all is that we can come together and walk through it together. We can celebrate getting through, together. 🤗
One last thing… when I first lost my mom, a friend who’s not that long ago lost her father reached out and shared an Instagram post with me that described grief as a room. I’m probably not doing the original post justice (and I can’t recall the exact post or I’d link it here to give credit), but as I remember it, the caption explained initial grief as a room you’re in — it’s all-consuming. Eventually, a door appears in that room, and you have the freedom to go in and out; in other words, the grief is always with you, right behind that door — you always have access to it, and you’ll always feel compelled to sit in there — but you can close the door as you need to, in order to continue moving and growing. My room has a door now, friends. 🎉
Sending you all the YAYs,
Joelle
It’s definitely a lot to process, being here in March, but now in 2021. So I can only imagine how you’re feeling! This week I have thought so much about what the new normal will look like. And how we will continue to acknowledge the losses our families went through this year while also moving forward...and how it feels like a new year (vaccines!) but also feels like the same year in many ways. As much as I’m appreciating small joys, I selfishly can’t wait for the big joys— the YAY of it all, the lightheartedness that life had before.