There's a (newish) saying, "It's okay to not be okay". I have to say, I'm not okay with not being okay and have spent the better half of the last 24 hours convincing myself just how "okay" I am in spite of my tears. Yesterday, March 15th, I experienced the loss of two people. One was my paternal grandmother and the other was a friend's mom who I also called mom. By the end of the day I felt like Job with the mindset of Thomas and the inability to fathom the amount of loss I have "experienced" over the last 11 years. Five. Five losses.
There are five stages of grief which are as follows:
Denial
Anger
Bargaining
Depression
Acceptance
Many people know the stages, what many people don't know is that not everyone arrives at "acceptance". Like my PTSD posting, I think there's something missing in these stages but won't go down that road today. I feel safe in my assumption that you, a reader of this blog posting are aware that Meryl's Safe Haven was created in honor of my aunt, Meryl, who we lost in 2022. Now in 2024, there are still days in which I expect to hear from her. I'll admit, I am still on the road to finding acceptance and can't wait to "arrive".
Yesterday, I went through my morning routine and, at some point, sat on the bed for a minute, I felt a heaviness that was different from my regular end of the week exhaustion and remember saying to myself: my heart feels heavy. In that moment, I had no idea why. What I wasn't looking forward to, get this... was the training I had previously signed up for titled "Grief Hurts: Understanding Death's Impact on Youth and Families". Because MSH works with vulnerable populations, when we started placing families and were on the road to opening the doors for our youth programming, I made a conscience decision to continue my professional development but this just felt cruel after the news I had received just two hours earlier. I was in a fog. In the middle of the training, despite my wife's efforts to get me to stay home, I arrived to work. We received a generous donation and decided to bring the families together for breakfast. I sat in the parking lot for a little while before getting a message that the families were looking for me.
To me, it's not okay to not be okay because even on my worse day I know others rely on me to keep going; it is a burden I bear.
At about 5pm, I left the office to get my daughter. I received a call from a family member. I was still in a fog. I didn't have the energy to speak to this particular person. I pressed the reject button. They called back.. six times. After the second time I knew what I was expecting if I were to answer that call, there was no doubt in my mind. By the time I got my daughter home, someone else called me and I answered. Her voice was shaky and her words were, "I don't call with good news..." My grandmother had passed at 5:30pm. I got off the phone and I went back to work to cover second shift as I do everyday. At this point in my day, I felt a bit like Bruce Almighty when he calls God a mean kid with a magnifying glass while also feeling jaded. On my way back, I made a stop. I wanted to get a clothing rack for the donations and it was a mindless thing I could do. I pulled into the parking lot and the flood gates opened. In true Tasia fashion I said "you're okay", cleaned my face, and went inside the store.
Many times I have used the analogy of a carnival ride; so much is happening and so many people want to get off but no one wants to actually hit stop for fear of what others may think. At a time when the easiest thing to do would be wave the white flag, I'm confronted with my inability to not be okay with not being okay and continue to hit refresh on my progression through the stages of grief. On some levels, this is the reality of so many on any given day while also carrying the weight of the world, families, and organizations so be kind, you never know what someone is experiencing in that moment your paths cross.