GRIEF HIDES WHERE WE LEAST EXPECT IT.

Today, two seemingly unrelated events opened a floodgate and grief came pouring out.

I want to go home, I said out of nowhere.

I want to go back to CA this weekend.

I want to be with my friends, with people who really, really know me and love me.

I flopped on the bed, face down, sobbing from the deepest places inside.

Like waves, the big moments felt uncontrollable. Smaller waves gave me just enough of a break to catch my breath. Then memories came forward.

I remembered being in my fast freedom ride, road-tripping to Southern California for medicine ceremonies. I remembered the last time I saw my long-time most amazing girlfriend in her Santa Monica backyard...laughing, drinking white wine, eating chocolates, all smiles, pure comfort in each other’s presence. I thought about more than 20 years of laughter, vaulted secrets and embraces with my BFF, each hug a vow to always have each other’s back. And my mom.

I’m here in Mexico because...why? I thought.

Was life in CA that bad?

Do I really want temporary residency in Mexico?

What if I don’t make the same caliber of friends here?

Another wave of tears came as reality hit: temporary residency means there will be fewer in-person memories made with the people who have held me during my darkest yet always held me at my highest. A closing of a major chapter in my life. A letting go of who I was in exchange for a new life, a new me, both I am still getting to know.

I cried until I emptied out. Then I was done. I stepped outside to sit on the porch in the warm air.

This is grief.

Not what we expect. Never when we expect it.

Ride the wave and let it pass all the way through. Then be sweet with yourself.

May this reflection be medicine to help you feel less alone on your grief journey, whatever it is you are grieving: what you had and lost, what you never had at all, what you’re giving up to glow up.

🪷