Introspection is weird. You can be going about your day, not an off thought in the world, but then you pause to do some menial task and your mind starts wandering. Some days it goes on an adventure outward. Some days, it decides to do a deep dive into your psyche and then you’re suddenly overanalyzing yourself. I find myself doing this a lot lately, as I struggle to heal, and deal with my ever changing health and mental health.

I’ve been quiet on this blog. On social media. On anything that anyone other than the people close to me can see or hear. Hell, sometimes I’ve been quiet there, too. I spent so long walking on eggshells the past few years, I’ve been struggling to figure out how to stop, even when I know I’m safe.
I apologize when I’m a mess. I try not to be an inconvenience to those I care about when I’m having a bad mental health day. I still find myself overthinking everything I say, do, and might say. I think I’ve been afraid to post anything that might upset someone, anyone, even though this blog and my social profiles are my space. Even though the time I spend with those I’m closest to now is safe space. I don’t want to think that way anymore.

I think like that a lot, lately. About how I do things, why I do things, why do I think the way I think? Honestly? I’m so, so tired of thinking about it all, constantly. But self analyzing, deep thought, its what shows me the things I need to heal from, that I likely didn’t realize I needed to until now.
I’ve felt more myself in the past 8 months than I have in the past 8 years. To say that, with that much truth behind it, is insane. You don’t realize how much of yourself you’ve suppressed over the years, until you feel like you’re able to let yourself go, be the weird, strange person you enjoy being, and discover that people love you even more for it. But to process everything from the past few years, to realize how much you’ve been through? That’s terrifying.
The voice in my head screams at me regularly. Reminding me of all of the things I have to heal from. Some days I’m really good at drowning her out. I know her thoughts are insecure, and irrational, and wrong. But this week I’ve realized… if the voice in my head can be that loud, why the hell can’t I be? What am I afraid of?

9 months ago, I lost my Dad to cancer. 3 weeks later, I ended a roughly 7 year relationship to someone I had planned on marrying over a year before. To a lot of people, I probably looked insane. That’s a lot of huge change, in less than a month. I realized after I lost Dad, that I had been holding onto something that I should have let go of a long time ago. When we got Dad’s diagnosis in early fall of 2020, suddenly my entire world changed. So I desperately clung to the one constant in my life, no matter how unstable it was. I knew then that what I was holding onto could fall apart at any moment, but at that point, I don’t think I cared.
When my Dad passed, with him passed a lot of things that most little girls dream of their dad being around for. For me, the realization that Dad was no longer around for a lot of the big moments to come hit me extremely hard, and I felt something fall apart all over again. The illusion surrounding my relationship, engagement, and planned wedding shattered. Part of me had been hoping that somehow things would get better, and my dad would be there to walk me down the aisle. It took my world crumbling to realize just how unhappy I was, and then I realized I wasn’t afraid of change anymore.

I’ve been quiet, because I think I’ve been afraid. Excuse me when I say F* that. I stayed quiet when a post was made, basically implying that I had been cheating, that the person I’m now with was the reason for me ending my relationship. Its easy to blame other people if it means you don’t have to take accountability for the person you are, for the things you said to the person that you were supposed to be there for more than anyone, the day of her father’s memorial. That entire afternoon will be one I never truly forget. I stayed quiet when people I was told I was a bad person for wanting to work things out with and remain friends with, were manipulated into taking sides. Suddenly, those people aren’t the terrible, shallow people I was told they were. In the end, the only thing I feel is bad that they’re also that easily manipulated. I’ve stayed quiet as I process the mental trauma, gaslighting, reactive abuse and overall manipulation I allowed myself to be subject to for so long. I’m never going to be that person again, and I’m done being quiet.

I’ve done a lot of healing in the past months, but I’ve done it in quiet. Letting bits and pieces show through from time to time to the outside world. I still have a lot more healing to do. Bits of myself to regain. Intrusive thoughts, defensive mechanisms and trauma responses to work through. Parts of my brain to rewire. I’m still learning how to let myself be authentic and to say F what people think of that. I still have to remind myself daily, that its OK to not be OK sometimes, and its okay to still feel broken sometimes.

The last post I made on this blog was in January, entitled “a mess,” and I’ve been quiet since then. Guess what? I’m still a mess, grief is still messy. I’m still processing how to go on with my life without my dad here to see the life I’m working towards, the life I want to build with the people I want to build it with. That won’t change for a long time.

Me, the part of me that cares what the world thinks, and my silence? That will.

Grief is messy. There’s no other way to describe it…. but its not the obvious kind of messy.
Its the kind that makes you feel like you’re fine for 2 weeks, just to have a breakdown in the car on the way home when you’re not expecting it, ugly crying as you drive home.
Yes, that oddly specific reference was me just a few hours ago.
Everyone grieves differently, and I know this. Some people can carry on and hide it away, and go on with day to day life as things were before your world was shattered.
Some people can’t get out of bed for months.
Some people wish they could be the latter, but instead are forced to be the former.
Some are a mix of the above, some are different. I know there’s no right way to grieve, but some days I feel like I’m doing it wrong.

You can know what’s inevitably coming all you want, but you will never be ready for the moment you had been dreading for months. You can tell yourself that you’re prepared for it, but I promise you, you’re not… You’ve spent days, weeks, months trying to prepare yourself to lose one of the most important people in your life, that you don’t think about all of the other things you lose right along with them.

2021 was a difficult year for myself and for my family, nobody can argue that. But for me, it was also a year of huge personal growth, and a whole lot of change. I finally started taking my mental health seriously, and trying to find the parts of myself I’d lost the past few years. Turns out once you’re as lost as I was, your chances of finding all of you again are fairly low… Which is okay, when you realize you didn’t really like all of the person you were before, either.

I spent a really long time afraid of what I didn’t know. I was absolutely terrified of losing Dad… but I knew it was coming eventually. I just didn’t know eventually would come so soon… there were so many things he needed to be around for yet. When he didn’t get to be around for a lot of those things, the fear of everything else just kind vanished. Something in me snapped, and I was done being afraid to change things. I guess in a way, losing my dad was a wake up call.

Grief for me comes out in a lot of ways, for me, mostly a whole lot of crying, and sometimes a whole lot of anger. I miss the hell out of my dad. But I think what I grieve most, is the moments he isn’t here for anymore, and the things I’m going to miss having him a part of.
He didn’t get to be here, and be proud of me when I ended a years long relationship, that had turned more toxic than it had good, and had left me feeling like I went through losing my dad alone.
He’s not here as I get ready to buy my first house, to help me move, to help me with DIY home projects, to play with Apollo in my new backyard, to see the home I create. He won’t get to see all the fantastic people that I have cheering me on, offering to help. He won’t get to laugh at me as I get to experience all the “joys” of finally having a place of my own.
He’s not around to see and meet the amazing circle of people I’ve grown so close with. The friendship that turned into my absolute best friend, who I’d be absolutely lost without. Dad would have absolutely loved her. The man I found the most unexpected, amazing connection with, who likes me even when I’m a mess & breaking down in his apartment on a random Wednesday afternoon… who Dad would have asked a million and one questions, and been so excited to have someone new to show his techy stuff to. And the family who’s become a second family for me, who treat me like I’ve always belonged there, and who’s daughters I absolutely adore, just as much as my dad did.

I’m going to miss him being around for the big moments that haven’t happened yet in my life. My first house, finally doing my first comic con with my art, walking me down the aisle someday, or being there when I have kids of my own some day. And that’s when the anger hits… I feel cheated, that I won’t have my Dad around for those big things. Angry at other people, but knowing I’ll never say it. Angry at myself for things that don’t even make sense. Angry at things I know I can’t control.
Grief for me is crying, and feeling angry about things that no matter what I do, I can’t change. Its wanting to talk about it with people, but not wanting to burden anyone with the mess that I am, so instead, I’m quiet. Grief is me, sitting in my studio at midnight on a Thursday, crying and putting my inner monologue onto virtual paper. Grief is feeling guilty that it took losing him to make me realize how unhappy I had been for so long. Grief is me knowing that I’m going to have days like this, and that’s okay… even when I really don’t feel like I am.

I know he’s probably somewhere, insanely proud of me. Just as excited as I am for my new house. Happy that I’m finally trying to do more with the blog and website we spent hours talking about. And so, so happy that I finally realize the amazing things I deserve, and deciding that I won’t settle for anything less.

Grief is weird, and its messy. Most days, I’m okay. And some days, like today, I’m an absolute mess. But grief has this way of showing you that you are stronger than you ever knew, even when you feel like you’re at your weakest.