The Raw Journey Through Grief: A Personal Struggle for Freedom
What does it really mean to be free from something? This question hit me hard today while I was grieving my mom. In the midst of my sorrow, I confessed to a fear I hadn't fully acknowledged before. I felt trapped by the fear of failure and the fear of not being good enough.
On most days, these thoughts don't even cross my mind. But in that moment, they became my reality. This made me wonder. Just because I had a moment where these fears took over, does that mean I'm not free from them? Or could real freedom actually be having the strength to admit to these feelings?
A lot of people have been telling me to take a break. But for me, sitting still and doing nothing is the worst. When I'm idle, my mind starts to think about things I can't change. Like the fact that I didn't spend more time with my mom before she passed away.
Her laugh, her smile - these are the things that keep me up at night. The fact that I had planned a beautiful summer with her that didn't happen fills me with anger. Now, I find myself stuck in an abyss of grief, frozen by the reality of her absence.
To avoid drowning in these feelings, I keep myself busy. If I let myself sink into these thoughts, I'll break down completely. I need time to accept what has happened. I need time to grieve, and time to heal.
On some days, I feel free from the ghosts of my past because they don't haunt me. But when I'm tired, when I can't keep running from my grief, I become hard on myself. Maybe that means I'm not free from self-judgment. But then again, what does freedom really mean?
To be free, do we have to be perfect? Or is it a form of freedom to express our feelings honestly, to share our ups and downs with transparency?
Right now, I'm filled with anger. It feels like my heart was torn out in February. Even now, it's hard to say the words "my mom is gone" without tearing up. In a way, I feel like I'm pretending. I act as if she's still here. I text her, I talk to her, I set a place for her when I eat out, even though she never liked eating out. I pretend she's still here.
This journey, this path of grief, is something I never thought I'd have to travel. It feels like the universe has just pushed me out into the street, naked and vulnerable. I don't know if this means I'm free or not. But I think it's important to share these thoughts, to be open about my journey. Because in the end, maybe real freedom is in sharing, in being open about our feelings and experiences, no matter how difficult they may be.
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