I don’t wonder why they behaved this way, but I ask myself why I responded. I put this individual’s behaviour down to them having a bad day and I forgive them. Yet I can’t forget the fact that they saw me at my most vulnerable, and strangers must have seen me as weak.
Tag: me
April Recap!
We hope that you have enjoyed reading The Grief Reality in April. It is a joy to have somewhere to talk so openly about grief, mental health and general ramblings.
Gently, My Mother
‘Gently, My Mother’ is a small poem I wrote on a sunny Friday which made me miss my own quite terribly.
The Algorithm For Happiness (Part 1):
When life slips down the hill, Katie and I often turn to each other and ask each other the same question: What is the point? With our feet slipping, trying to stop everything from falling, our arms aching and our bodies covered in mud, we scream WHAT IS THE POINT IN TRYING SO HARD?
My Name Is Evee, What’s Yours?
My name is Evee. Not Evie or Eve, and in fact I dislike both of those names quite strongly.
How Do You Know You’ve Done The Right Thing?
I think this is a poignant question, and one I think about often; especially as a young person being without their Mum. I think a question that is good to ask ourselves when we are trying to work out whether we have done the right thing, is how do we know when we have done the wrong thing?
A New Way To Journal
I title each post-it “Dear” and the date. It is simple, but wonderful. Plus you don’t harm the book in the process, which is a thought which brings me a lot of simple joy.
Growth #4: Reflection
Thank you for being here. Thank you to the silent readers who don’t comment. Thank you to the readers who do comment. Thank you to the people who come from our social media. Thank you to the people who stumble across our blog and never come back. Thank you to the people who keep coming back. Thank you for being here with me as I grow and navigate this world without my Mum.
Grieving in Plain View
Grieving in plain sight: the fact we will all grieve yet society is so uncomfortable by it, that the griever has to protect everyone else. Every day.
The Luxury of Self
Mum would love these rainbows.