Yesterday, I almost forgot to eat…almost. It was one of those work from your car, the hair salon and be the kids’ chauffeur kind of days. I couldn’t help but think of a diet I used to be a big fan of – the BUSY Diet. I grew up hearing the phrase, “I was so busy today, I forgot to eat.” This led me to connect that forgetting to eat (aka restricting) means you are busy and productivity means you…
I knew today was going to be tough – returning to GaGa’s house for the first time. Little did I know today would put me to the ultimate grief and trauma test. Mom, Marjorie and I drove to GaGa’s home. I felt good, but nervous. I entered her home through her back door and immediately noticed the silence. The TV was not blaring Price Is Right and the wood floors didn’t click as GaGa walked to greet me. There was darkness…
I’ve always been curious about cemeteries. I think it’s human nature. They always seemed so peaceful to me, but I was so afraid of them, always shuddering at their perfect mix of death, serenity and beauty. When I was in grade school and middle school, I spent every weekend at GaGa’s house. Literally, every weekend. One afternoon, we drove out to the cemetery to put flowers on my grandfather’s grave. GaGa told me all about Papa Jimmie and how he…
“Do you think you could carve out 20-minutes a day to grieve?” I looked up at my therapist after her suggestion and quickly replied, “Nope. I’ll pass, thanks though.” It has become apparent that I have gone from intense grief to completely driving the denial bus. I haven’t shed a tear or grieved in weeks because I have convinced myself that GaGa is still here. We just haven’t talked. She is here, just a phone call away. Life has just…
This working mom thing has been kicking my ass lately. I do my best to manage my foundation, mentoring folks in recovery, while also taking care ofmy family, pets (because that struggle is real) and the house. On the days that end in ‘y’, I feel pulled in a thousand directions, never completing one task before getting overwhelmed in another. I don’t think I’m alone in this scenario: I start an email and suddenly find myself meticulously cleaning a nail…
For years I’ve been waiting for a break – a time in my life where everything was good and normal. Through the work of EMDR and the loss of my best friend, I realize life will never be normal because there is no normal – at least the ‘normal’ I always pictured in my head. Maybe on some level I always knew this, but I am beginning to embrace this normal – the normal ebb and flow of life. The…
On Monday, for the first time since starting Southern Smash five years ago, I woke up and didn’t want to go to the Southern Smash event. I wanted to stay curled in bed with the covers over my head. I wanted to sink into a hole and never come out. But I got up and marched on, giving myself a pep talk on the way, “It will be great when you get there. You’ve got this. You love this campus…
Yesterday marked six weeks since my best friend passed. It feels like yesterday and a lifetime all rolled together. She is on my mind and heart nonstop. Some days are easier than others, but the wound still runs deep. I am discovering that grief is like a silent ninja that attacks out of nowhere. Just last week, I found myself having a great day, until I strolled past a display of hydrangeas, Gaga’s favorite flower. I stopped in my tracks…
They say holidays are hard after losing a loved one and to that I say, every damn day is hard. I thought L.A. might be the breath of fresh air I needed and it was in many ways, but my heart remains so hollow. Every day is a new reminder. A new reason I pick up the phone to call her. Last week, I received the most thoughtful card from some folks at Carolina House and other Raleigh area professionals…
My eyes flew open at 4am and my heart sunk. Two weeks. Two weeks ago my best friend left this earth. Two weeks since I spoke to her, held her hand, hugged her. This is the longest I have ever gone without speaking to GaGa. I keep calling her number, but no one picks up. It seems like life is now divided – before and after GaGa passed. Of course, my life prior to this was divided by my time…