I constantly over-share.
I mean, seeing as I run a blog that statement should go without saying and yet …
It’s not that I want to tell you that I’m on Day 2 of my period but sometimes I just can’t help it. You see, 9 to 23-year-old Julie had a heart made out of concrete and sharing actual pieces of herself felt unnecessary. I built the kind of wall that Trump would be proud of around my heart and it took years of therapy to realize that the wall was unnecessary (someone send this part to Trump). I’ve gotten to the point where over-sharing feels second-nature and I am always seconds away from telling you a secret about me.
This website has become a place where I share every part of myself; from my happiest to my darkest, you could probably find a blog post in every category.
Yet, there’s something I haven’t really shared with anyone. Something has happened and I’ve dealt with my feelings on my own because I felt like my pain was too big of a burden to put on someone else. Which feels silly now that I type it down because if therapy taught me anything, it’s that we can’t hold on to our feelings and hope for them to pass. I guess another reason why I haven’t shared this is because I didn’t want it to feel like I was exploiting this tragedy for website clicks. I have considered not writing this at all but I deal with my feelings by writing them down and that’s the part of me I love the most. So here I am … over-sharing my heart away.
My friend passed away recently.
She was in an accident; I saw her that day, we joked and I told her I had something to show her the next day and minutes after she left work she was in an accident. It’s been 27 days and it still takes my breath away when I don’t see her every day. I thought attending her viewing would bring closure and yet my heart feels more uneasy than before. I have struggled with every emotion in these last 27 days.
I have cried harder than I’ve ever cried. I have been numb. I have endured migraine after migraine. I have refused to get out of bed. I have had good days and then I’ve hated myself for having good days. I have laughed until I cried and then I cried because happiness just doesn’t feel the same without her bright light alive in this chaotic world. I have rediscovered the meaning of writer’s block and this time it felt never-ending. I have been angry at The Universe, at the person that hit her, at myself, at her; at times it feels like anger has built a warm safe haven in my heart and it refuses to leave.
Grief is a complicated process and I know KC would be telling me that I’m doing a shitty job at dealing with things. She would tell me to keep going and if I close my eyes, I swear I can almost hear her say it. The thing is, this all feels like a fever dream that refuses to let me wake up and no matter how many times I pinch myself, this will not go away.
Maybe you haven’t noticed but the website has been lacking new posts as of late and I genuinely considered deleting the website altogether. I have struggled to come up with actual concrete evidence that any of this matters. I have doubted everything about this crazy dream I have and I have convinced myself that becoming a writer is just not in the cards for me. Then I remembered that KC would always tell me, “I can’t wait until you’re a famous writer and you can hire me to work for you”. For her, my writing was never a hobby, it was always a career that I would flourish in. I miss her. I miss her positive attitude, her smile, her jokes, her enthusiasm and her unbelievable belief that I could do anything. I’m not really sure how to navigate without her positive comments every day but I’m trying and maybe trying is all that matters.