hey tumblr bots.
the year is finally ending. thank god.
it’s been a terrible year.
i lost my brother.
i dealt with someone who made me doubt my own sanity.
i held my grandmother’s hand as she took her last breath, after my mother and i spent two and a half years caring for her while she fought cancer with everything she had.
i survived two attempts on my life.
i checked myself into the grippy sock hotel.
and yet — here i am.
grateful. not for the pain, but for what survived it.
the best thing that came out of this year was inheriting my grandmother’s art supplies. she was an incredible painter. she gave the love of art to me and all of my cousins. i always wanted to paint, but i was afraid of it. intimidated. an art teacher once told me to never paint because my hands were too shaky — and i believed her.
after my grandmother passed, i felt an overwhelming need to paint. it was all-consuming. i couldn’t ignore it. so i did.
i still don’t know what i’m doing with paint. but for the first time since my grandmother got sick, i felt something. painting stopped the nightmares of my brother lying in his casket. it quieted the noise the way my stipple work does — at least for a little while.
this is my first time sharing this.
The Invasive Rot of Grief: A Mycology of Self
if you made it this far, thank you for witnessing this with me.
if grief has changed you too, you’re not alone.
