Grief, honesty and acceptance
Letting every feeling have its place.
It’s been a while since I shared a newsletter, and I truly appreciate your patience. Especially as I've had the honour of more people signing up to The Stories of Us - thank you so much.
In keeping with the aims of this newsletter - which are prominently to be open and honest about mental health and the impact of narcissistic parents - let me start by sharing that I’ve been struggling lately.
Riding the waves of grief
The one-year anniversary of my mum’s death hit me harder than I ever anticipated. I felt consumed by our history and unable to focus on anything else.
My mind has been transfixed on all the what ifs, that could have led to us having a better relationship. My mind has been consumed by my past actions and the ones I now feel less proud of. I’ve been spiralling into feelings of guilt, shame and blame. I’ve felt deeply depressed and overwhelmed with grief.
Despite all the pain I felt when my mum was alive, nothing compares to how I’ve felt lately. I grieve for her and for the hope I had that one day, things would be different. That dream is gone now, and the finality of it haunts me.
Letting it out and being honest
In hindsight, I now realise I had been suppressing my grief. I simply wanted to be ‘okay’ and I thought I could solider on if I kept telling myself to ‘just get on with it’.
I knew I felt sad, but I avoided fully confronting my thoughts. I had convinced myself that I could ‘hold it together’ until the one-year anniversary of my mum’s death, a day where I would allow myself to cry; but grief doesn’t work like that. I should have known that from experience.
Ignoring my emotions only made everything harder. It left me short-tempered with those around me and even sadder. I didn’t want to acknowledge the depths of my grief, but eventually I couldn’t contain it anymore. Every emotion erupted from me.
In a moment of being inconsolable, I finally surrendered to all the pain inside. I let it out, I gave voice to it, and I’m so thankful my husband was there to support me.
What do I need in this moment?
Crying was a huge emotional release. Even though it wasn’t the anniversary of my mum’s passing, I let it all out and I vowed not to force myself to hold it in again. The truth is, grief is heavy and I can’t carry it alone - nor can I silence it. To do so brings an extra layer of isolation, to an already lonely experience. I want to share what I’m going through, but I’m conscious not to drag anyone down with me.
How do you share your truth with those closest to you, without feeling as though you’re always being so depressing?
It also occurred to me that I have been talking to myself in a very cruel way. Since recognising that, I’ve been trying to treat myself with the kindness of a true friend. In doing so, I realised that beyond expressing my grief, I longed to feel a closer connection with my family and friends. I wanted to be around the people who are here and who love and accept me for me. I also wanted to return to the things I enjoy, but have not been prioritising lately.
Challenges of reaching out
Writing about my feelings comes easily, but saying them out loud is much harder. My version of a ‘cry for help’ is often just a ‘how’s everything with you?’ text.
I pushed myself to reach out to those closest to me, in ways I felt comfortable with. I’d been keeping to myself too much, and making time to talk to my friends has helped. Even when the words didn’t flow easily or when we didn’t end up talking about my mum, those interactions made me feel less isolated.
What did I learn?
I want to remember that grief comes in waves - both heavy and light. I will give myself permission, grace, and space to feel whatever arises, and I will do my best to be kind to myself.
I’m also learning to reconnect with what brings me joy, even when it feels like a struggle. Right now, it takes a real effort and force, but I know it’s necessary. It sounds simple, but when we feel low and lost, even the smallest steps can help us find our way back.
Can You Relate?
A new hope for the future
Just when I couldn't see any light in this situation, I thought of my daughters. I don’t want them to have a parent consumed and imprisoned by the past. I also thought of my mum, and the generations before her, who I believe were also held captive by past memories. I will try to remind myself of this anytime I feel that the low times, and ruminating thoughts of what has been, are tightening their grip on me.
Accepting all that was
I’m working hard to accept the story of my mum and me. I can’t change the past, but I’m working towards accepting it. In time, I hope I will.
Beyond accepting the past, I’ve come to the conclusion that I need to accept myself - flaws and all. I must forgive myself for the moments I now see as mistakes and for not knowing any other way. Right now, I feel stuck in this process, but I hold on to the hope that I’ll get there.
Thank you for being on this journey with me
Thank you for reading my experience. I hope that somewhere in these words, you find something that resonates. Whether it’s permission to feel your emotions, grace to acknowledge big feelings, or a reminder to embrace and celebrate the things that bring you joy - I hope you take what you need.
Lots of love,
Chloe x
Thank you Chloe. Sending you the biggest hugs ❤️