Reclaiming Your Story, and Basking in the Sunshine

Starting to think this blog might be its own form of talk therapy, and I am here for it.

As a follow up to dealing with grief, I thought it was important to shed light on reclaiming your story and basking in the sunshine.

Years ago, I would have been embarrassed or filled with shame to share my grief, but I’m not anymore.

After I had a child, the barrier I had created between my mom and I around the situations we experienced crumbled. I remember feeling a pivotal moment when I finally asked her all these burning questions that had been on my heart, yet I did not have the courage to ask. Although I always considered my mom a fighter, when I became a mom myself I realized she was a warrior.

I don’t want people to assume everyday was torture in our lives, but I will say when my bio Dad was good, he was so good. He was kind, funny, affectionate, and life of the party, But when he was bad, I wanted to hide, I wanted safety. This is not to say there is love lost, but this was our reality, this was our life. It is ok to remember the bad aspects when someone passes.

The hard aspects of my childhood are part of my makeup, but they have no bearing on my self worth, my character, my intelligence, nor my joy. Rather many things that occured were the decisions my biological Dad chose, it was his choices and his ending. Although there might be days when I let the negative thoughts seep into my soul, I try to make a conscious effort to choose happiness and joy.

I don’t get sad about it anymore. I don’t think about it all and cry anymore. I don’t let it make me feel small, or lesser anymore. It happened to me, but it does not define me. With an abundance a time, a bunch of therapy, and a heavy dose of medication, I just let it be now.

During our book club about a Woman is No Man, we delved into some hard questions followed by personal stories. As my dear friend shared her grief and story, she started to laugh, she was cackling, and then I was cackling too (this is not an exaggeration). It was a story I could relate to, and with hindsight it was hilarious. Hilarious for the crazy, hilarious for the manipulation, hilarious for how ridiculous it sounds even though it is the truth. Hilarious that after all of this hurt, we could chose joy and laugh like crazy women.

Yesterday, this friend and I talked about how time and healing allows you to the ability to control the narrative, to not look at your story with sadness or brokeness anymore. You can be the narrarator, you are IN CONTROL of your own story. You can right the ship. All these memories are a piece of your story to tell despite how f*cked up it might be. Sometimes, people take things from you, whether it be joy, innocence, or power. I have found it empowering to take it back, to flip the script. This simple step allows you to regain control, and most of all reclaim the story.

I hope that whatever hurt, shame, or sadness that you have dealt with, you can let it go and move forward. Although it will always be there, do not let it bring you down, rather let it catapult you. To new people, to new memories, to new happiness. I hope you chose joy, and I hope you bask in the sunshine.

XO

Tay

P.S. This post is for my mama, who was always there. She is the strongest women I know, and she stayed with me and never gave up on me, even when she was struggling herself. Little by little, she built us a new life, married my Dad (and BB's Pops), and gave me the best brother in the world. And even when I was a mean, unfair, and harsh teenager, she never wavered. She showed up. And when I found myself struggling mentally as a new mother, she listened, she comforted, and she imparted wisdom. She did not judge. Although I might roll my eyes or make a joke on her behalf, I would never trade her for the world.

"Here's strong women, may we know them, may we be them, may we raise them" -- Michelle Obama

I love you, Shawn Michelle. Here's to you.