I recently talked to a friend of mine about the death of my grandma. When I told her I was having a really hard time with it, she seemed surprised. She said that if I hadn’t said something, she would have had no idea.
Here, I thought I had been struggling to hold it together. Was I doing better than I thought?
I decided to unpack that.
Admittedly, I haven’t told many of my friends about what happened. I can count on one hand the people I’ve confided in, but that’s not to imply that my friends wouldn’t be supportive. I’ve never been very good at asking for help, even when I know I should.
Part of me also feels like I should be “over it” by now. That probably isn’t a very healthy mindset, but there’s a lot of societal stigma around prolonged grief. It’s been a little over a month since her death. A month is a long time.
On the other hand, a month isn’t very long at all. Perhaps I still haven’t processed everything. But I can’t exactly put everything on hold to grieve properly. The world keeps turning.
Life marches on, with or without me.