I’m Here. It’s Messy. And That’s Okay…

Follow up to my last post : Found Out Like a Stranger..

Some days, life blindsides you. You’re pottering along, minding your business, and then something comes hurtling out of nowhere and smacks you straight in the heart.

The other day; was one of those days.

I found out my aunt died and was buried last weekend. I found the notice online while I was searching a death notice for someone else. And there it was. Staring back at me. A woman who was part of my childhood, who lived with Granny Frass, who was just always there. Gone. And nobody thought I needed to know.

Turns out Bully knew. Franny knew. And the whole crew of holy rollers who wouldn’t miss a funeral if there was a free cup of tea and a chance to sit in the good seats. They were all there, front row, faces like butter wouldn’t melt, acting like the grieving saints they pretend to be. Hypocrites, the lot of them.

And me?
I was left to find out on my own, miles from anyone who gets it, heart raw, and head spinning. And you know what? It broke me a little. Not just for losing her, but for what it said about them. About how little I matter in their carefully controlled world. About how exclusion’s been their favorite game for years.

And then, as if the emotional slap wasn’t enough, I hurt my back sneezing. Yes, sneezing. Because my life loves a bit of slapstick comedy with its trauma.
And there I was, physically in pain, emotionally bruised, and suddenly aware of every other time I’ve felt unsupported, left out, discarded.

The thing about grief and old wounds is they travel in packs. You open one door and the whole gang shows up.

I spiraled.

I thought about old betrayals, about how often I’ve made excuses for people I should’ve walked away from years ago. About how easy it is for some folk to cut you out and sleep soundly.

And then, somewhere between the rage and the tears, I took a breath.
And I realized – I’m still here.

It’s messy.
I’m angry.
I’m hurting.
I’m questioning everything.
And it’s okay.

I don’t have to be fine.
I don’t have to pretend.
I don’t have to find the meaning in it today, or wrap it up with a lesson and a moral.

Some days, the win is in simply standing up, or staying down and breathing through it. In saying “this hurts like hell, and I’m still here.”

So this is me today.
Messy. Raw. Human.

And if you’re feeling any of that too, you’re not alone.
Not now. Not ever.

I’m here. It’s messy. And that’s okay.

And as Granny Frass would’ve said:
“Let them sit on their high horses. The fall hurts worse from up there.”