“You handled it so well.” Those words sting, a hollow echo far from my truth. I didn’t handle it. I unraveled, spiraling into the chaos of my own heart. My spark—the light that once danced in my soul—flickered to ash. I bled in silence, wounds invisible yet jagged, carved deep where no one could reach. I shattered in private, my spirit fracturing across moments too heavy to name. And still, I wore a smile—a lie so seamless it outshone any mask I could’ve worn.
Six years ago, I lost my mom, she was only 63. Nine months ago, my stepdad. My grandparents in the years between. The past few years have been a relentless tide of grief, each loss a wave crashing against my core. As my parents caregiver, I gave everything—my time, my heart, my strength—feeling the ache of helplessness as I couldn’t save them, yet holding tight to the honour of easing their days. Every moment I held their hands, every quiet laugh, every tear shared—it’s woven into who I am. That love, that duty, it both broke me and built me.
Yes, I’m different—scarred, reshaped, but standing taller. My spark is reignited, not the same flame, but a fiercer one, tempered by pain and love. We’re taught to hide our struggles, to perform strength behind polished masks. That’s not courage—it’s survival. Real strength is admitting you’re not okay, that you’re human, that grief and loss have left you raw. Feeling this deeply isn’t weakness; it’s the heartbeat of a life fully lived.
Let’s stop glorifying “handling it well” and start embracing the messy, sacred truth of our journeys. You don’t have to be okay every moment. You just have to keep showing up, even when it hurts. To anyone carrying the weight of loss, caregiving, or silent battles: you’re not alone. Reach out. Cry. Scream. Heal.
Your pain is valid, and so is your comeback. 💔🔥
Laura xx
#ItsOkayToNotBeOkay #GriefAndHealing #CaregiverStrength
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