Ring, ring, ring…  ☎️

Hi, hola… You have reached Liliana.

I’m not available to get to the phone right now, or respond to your text messages, or pay my bills and freaking parking tickets on time so they freaking double and triple, or keep up with doctors’ appointments, or house maintenance. Also, I started a new temporary job in a profession that is not mine, but the only job available to this new life I was handed, so there’s that. And honestly, I can’t seem to get a good grip on life in general 🙋🏻‍♀️.

See, the thing is, for the past almost three years, I have been trying not to drown during a raging night storm in a sea of grief, while holding our two teenage children, with no life jacket, no life boat, and with a traumatic brain, body and soul injury inflicted by my husband’s cruel and untimely death. Did I paint a good enough picture for you? I hope so.

When you see me it may look like I’m doing “well”, like I’m “moving on”, like I “got this”. But I really don’t. I do get a participation award for trying my damn best though. Don’t let the dressed up, made up, smiled up girl fool you. I’m still heartbroken. I still feel lost most of the time. Scared. Overwhelmed.

And if our kids are struggling, which hellooo, of course they are! Their awesome dad died! Then it gets dark real quick for me. Talking about conversations with our son, about wanting to thrive and not just survive, and about me saying how we are just tired of treading water, going under, tired of feeling like I won’t, I can’t, make it back above water, and how the thought of just surrendering to the bottom of the ocean sounds like a far better option sometimes, my grief therapist asked:

“Do you think you guys are trying to rush your grief?”

Pfffff!

F^@K YES!!!! I thought. Of course!!! Why wouldn’t we???!!! 

As much as I have read, listened, talked, and written about how grief is a marathon and not a sprint, she helped me realize that I have been trying to get to the other side. Quickly. Doing all the prescribed ‘grief’ things I can get my hands, eyes and ears on.

What other side, you ask? Well, the side where I don’t cry or hurt so much. The side where life actually feels beautiful and I don’t have to go searching for it. The side where I don’t have to fight panic and anxiety attacks every day or week or month. The side where making small and big decisions, alone, for our family, doesn’t terrify me. The side where someone (as in, another adult) takes care of me, and hugs me, and encourages me when I feel like I won’t make it. Where someone makes me breakfast or runs to the store at 10pm because we ran out of toilet paper. The side where I don’t resent those who promised to always be here for us, but then aren’t really because, well, they have a life. And a family. And places to be. Things to do. People to get back to. I get it. I really do.

But I still ugly cry, and scream and throw angry tantrums. I still feel so alone and isolated. My brain is definitely not back to work, taking and extended bereavement leave. These past two weeks, between traveling and getting back to the mad dash for the first day of school, so much grief has come back with a vengeance. You’d think we’d have this thing down, since we’ve been doing first days of school every year for over a decade, but nope. There was the last minute trip to the mall, to the hairdresser, to get shoes, to the thrift store…Aggghhhh!!! 😭

And then, both of our kids are graduating this year, from Middle 👩🏻‍🎓 and High School 👨🏻‍🎓, and I am already grieving so much my hubby not being there to see them.

Doing ALL the life, and mom, and provider, and protector things by myself, still feels so unbearable, unfair and infuriating 🤬.

But, hey!  Leave your name, number and a brief message after the tone, and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.

Or not. 🤷🏻‍♀️

Beeeeeeep.

  Hasta la próxima! Until next time  Peace.