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A mum of 2 trying to stay sane in an overly airbrushed world.

Saturday, 27 April 2019

Tears Don’t Equate Love


My mum died 3.5 months ago. 

Anyone who follows me on Instagram may have noticed I haven’t spoken on stories for a similar (possibly longer) time. 
Mum never told me she read my blog, but I know she watched my stories as she’d always start her phone calls by telling me how tired I looked... in the nicest ‘mum’ way of-course!) her little way of keeping tabs on me and what was going on day to day, maybe that’s why it’s significant to my processing the change.

It’s not my version of a 21st century state of mourning - it’s just how grief has effected me. I’m not a ‘cryer’ that’s not way of emoting sadness - people think that’s weird...I’m not the only one like it and It doesn’t make us cold, unfeeling or immune. If anything it makes us more sensitive to others observing our grief and people waiting to see the cracks and declare they saw it coming. 


Grief is a process. An undefined length of time centred on sadness, reflection, regret and loss. In my short experience of it so far the realisation of someone being ‘gone’ is the hardest part. No one knows what happens, we all live by our own imaginations of an afterlife, superstitions or reincarnations - the only certainty we have is theres no proof either way.

So why did that make me stop talking?! I don’t know...at first it seemed respectful to take some time out and not chat about the random things in my life I care to share; then it just never seemed right to return. There’s never been a day I can deem special enough to break the silence, so I have to bite the bullet and deem London Marathon weekend to be the only weekend this year where I tackle something extraordinary and accept she’d think it’s time I try and start talking like I used to. 

That’s all...nothing profound - just that if you’re in a similar situation or feeling that whatever way you deal with it is the right way and the decisions you make are right!









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