**disclaimer: this has no central message, a lot of grammatical errors, and sometimes doesn’t make that much sense. **
The shock effect has not completely worn off, but it has removed itself just enough for horrible flashbacks that come with the emotional journey of losing my mom. I often will be in the middle of a conversation with someone when a vivid picture floods my vision, seeing my mom in the hospital room and feeling like I did not do enough to save her life. You see, a year ago on this day, we moved my mom to hospice. I remember having to sit in a small room with doctors and nurses and being asked to make a decision about how we were going to go about caring for my mom. We had the option to let the doctors perform an operation on her that would most likely be unsuccessful, or move her to hospice and make her comfortable. It was horrible making that kind of decision for someone because they are unable to make that decision for themselves. Those conversations with the nurses constantly ring in my ear, and I always wonder what would have happened if we had “fought harder.” The word “unbearable” does not carry enough weight to describe how badly I wish I could go back in time and change things. By this time, I feel like a part of me should have moved on from that chapter of my life, or, at the very least, be making an impact of some kind in honor of my mom. Every day I wake up and I think the way I feel or the heaviness in my chest won’t be there, but it seems to be quite the opposite.
Overcoming is such a praised thing. People write books and speeches and make beautiful music about the struggles they have overcome or the hardships they have been through. But it is not so often that people talk about things while they are going through them. I think we feel like we can only talk about things when we know the lesson that comes out of it or when we are on the other side of it.
The truth is, writing helps me heal. I haven’t allowed myself to write because I feel like the weight of what I have to say won’t have an impact because I haven’t overcome it yet. Or I don’t have anything wise to say yet, or I haven’t gotten the lesson that needs to be learned. I haven’t done anything spectacular with my grief or struggles. I haven’t been able to help others or love others well so much like I felt like would have happened by now.
But this is my blog, and my space, and my place to allow myself to heal and grow without proof-reading or apologizing. And I want you to know that if you are reading this, YOU ARE ALLOWED TO TAKE UP SPACE. I am allowed to take up space in this world and so are you. You don’t have to have it all figured out to feel worthy to speak. Or to just be. You don’t need an explanation to express yourself. Sometimes you just need to feel. The longer you feel unworthy of your words or being honest with yourself, you prolong the process of growth and healing.
I want to document my process so when I see the final product, I can pinpoint what highs and what lows got me to where I am. You deserve to do the same, in whatever way you feel necessary. Every day that you are trying, expressing, and being honest, is a day you have overcome. There is not a final destination for overcoming, and that’s why it is a verb- you are constantly in the process.
So here is this post, completely unedited and completely not proof-read, because that’s just how life is sometimes. Thanks for reading and allowing me to ramble and get my thoughts in writing and for allowing a little piece of me to “overcome” through this.