The moment I reached out for help navigating my grief is permanently etched in my memory. My mom had died a month prior, and I had been putting on a happy face, leaning on the “fake it ‘til you make it” mantra. What my co-workers, friends, and family didn’t realize was the extreme effort it took to even get out of bed. I had to give myself a pep talk before taking a shower, dressing, or even eating. “You have to live, Roleen. Push through. Do what you have to do.” That worked for a while, but one morning- I was emotionally and physically stuck.
Laying in bed, unable to move, I was awake but frozen. Eventually, willing myself to be mobile, I realized four hours had passed. I’ll never forget whispering to myself, “You need help.” It was scary, humbling, and frustrating to accept that truth. I considered myself the rock for my younger siblings; I had to be strong for them. My children, who missed their Mimi, needed to see me smiling and happy so that they wouldn’t sink too deeply into grief.
I pushed my sadness to the side to be the responsible adult and role model I was supposed to be.
I forgot that I was human, that it was okay not to be okay, and that no one would be disappointed in me or think less of me if I reached out for help. For an entire month, I forgot that grief has no handbook, brochure, or manual. Laying in bed, thawing out from hours of being frozen, I forced myself to remember and finally took the steps to heal.
It took an additional month for my antidepressants to kick in, for therapy to make a difference, and for me to take full control of my mental and physical health. My general practitioner prescribed Wegovy, an injectable weight loss medicine, to help combat the 70 lbs I gained due to emotional eating. These steps gave me energy, motivation, and a new perspective that happiness is possible after the loss of someone I loved so deeply.
If you are coping with the death of a loved one, allow yourself to grieve. Be patient and kind to yourself by keeping your inner dialogue positive. Accept your ever-changing emotions and feelings, whether it’s sadness, anger, numbness, or confusion. Reach out for support from family, friends, or medical professionals.
Sometimes, a song reminds me of my mom. Or, I’ll hear myself repeating a phrase with her exact intonation. These are my reminders that love never dies. My mom’s favorite tradition was a luau on her birthday. My siblings and I have kept that tradition alive to honor her, sharing funny stories, playing her favorite games, and partying hard, just like she would. We celebrate her with both tears and smiles, sometimes laughing and crying, as we embrace life after loss.
