STOP telling people to “get over it”

I really dislike when people judge others or say how others should feel or how long it should take for people to “get over” a loved ones death based on what they think they know. Everyone is different and deserves to do their grieving process in their own time. No one has the right to tell or say how long a person should take to “get over” the death of a loved one. Some people take years, some months. I strongly believe that people who lose a loved one should be allowed to deal with that death in their own way and time.

I lost my biological grandmother in 2004, my grand aunt that played an integral part in my upbringing died in 2006, my cousin that I looked up to died in 2010, the man that helped my grand aunt to raise me died in 2011, my aunt that also played an integral roll in my life as a child and adult died in 2017 and my mom died in May of this year. I don’t know when or if I will “get over” any of these deaths. I can’t talk to or touch them anymore, and that is painful.

I am broken inside. I try to put my best foot forward on a daily basis, but some days are better than others. I am a work in progress. I have so many emotions going on that I cannot separate right now. I was always the “strong” one; I don’t know how to be “strong” anymore. I wake up each day thinking of my mortality and what it really is. I ask a million questions about “why” everyday. So I don’t need anyone to be in my presence saying that person should have already “gotten over” it. I am tired of people.

My fears

I grew up on the beautiful Island of Jamaica where everything is “Irie”. As a child I was afraid of the dark and going places by myself. I remember living in the country and my grandmother would send me to the shop. If it got to dusk before I was able to make it there and back, she would have to send someone for me as I would not walk home alone. I had to walk by several graves before getting home and I was afraid. This all ended when I was 14 years old and my great-grandmother died in the same room where I was sleeping with her. Just like that my fear of the dark was gone.

As a teen I was afraid of not being understood by my peers. During high school, I got involved in every activity possible. I was in the drama club, could I act? Hell no, but I was there. I was on the track team, couldn’t run a lick, how I got medals for running and long jump is beyond me. I was on the choir, I can sing ok, no grammy yet, still working on it. I got involved in these clubs as a means of masking my fears of rejection. You see, I though that if i was involved then I would be ok. That was not so, as I was one of the ONLY student in the school with hazel or as they use to call them then, “puss eye” and very light complexion. I did not have many friends and the few that did want to be my “friend” didn’t and still don’t know my story. The story that starts with me not knowing my biological father and telling everyone that he was “away.” Another part of the story was that I missed my mom because she was away in “foreign” trying to make a life for herself and her four children who she left in Jamaica. Anyway those stories are for another day.

In my twenties and thirties I was afraid of not being a good mom and wife. Despite that fear, I think I did a good job raising my three Wonderful children with the partnership of my amazing husband, who by the way, accepts me for me. Our children are intelligent, respectful, loving, caring and so much more. Seeing the people they have become gives me joy and hope for the future. My husband is one of the most caring men I know, never afraid to lend a helping hand. He loves me just the way I am. It took me many years to realize this but I am glad I finally do. More to come…..

Getting there

I got up this morning feeling a bit flustered because the blog would not load.  Thankfully, I called support and they were able to fix the issue.  I am now ready to blog.  More to come. #Liveoutloud #Livelovelaugh