Disclosure: this post may contain affiliate links, which means I may make a commission if you decide to make a purchase through one of my links, at no cost to you.
This week has easily been one of the hardest I’ve ever had since I started blogging.
My grandmother (the one who I’ve mentioned a few times on this blog) passed away on Saturday. Her loss was not unexpected after battling Alzheimer’s for ten years, but it has still left me feeling very raw, noticeably sour, and randomly bursting into tears at very inappropriate moments. Ever see a crazy person sobbing uncontrollably at a traffic light? Yep. That was totally me.
There have been other events since then that have basically turned an already depressing week into a giant shit sandwich, none of which are really the right time to get into now, but each one of them have left me at a loss for how to express my feelings accurately enough to put pen to paper… resulting in (mostly) mute frustration all week long. Or in Sprint’s case, loudly and angrily telling their customer service tech exactly where they can stick my malfunctioning phone (I waffle between guilt and pure rage on that).
Also? Today’s my birthday. Yaaaaayyyy….eh. While I’ve made plans with family and friends to try to enjoy the coming weekend (as I’ve mentioned before, my Dad and I share a birthday, and I celebrate Charlie’s today too), I’m experiencing a very weird mix of feelings that are hard to process.
I miss my Granny—one of the most influential people in my life—like crazy. She gave me my first sip of beer at age 8 (I hated it, btw). She is partly to blame for my foul mouth. She taught me how to cross stitch. She helped me tear down wallpaper in the guest bedroom as one of the first things that ever happened at the UDH (and to Shelly Redd on Instagram, thank you for remembering that).
She loved to cook. She loved to rain down affection on her family. She showed me that it’s okay to consider yourself a black sheep and to be proud of what makes you different from the rest. To speak your mind. To let someone know when something is not okay. To humbly joke and explain yourself in ways that only you might understand (“You think I’m dumb? I’m shit. [laughter]”).
I am overwhelmingly grateful for the people in my life who have texted/called/messaged, understood when I’ve forgotten plans, informed other people on my behalf (so that I don’t have to explain my attitude), excused me from blog commitments, and other small gestures that allow me to take care of my grief—whether it’s yelling at someone, crying in the middle of Petsmart, or refusing to speak.
Next week, there will be a lot of posts that were supposed to go live already, so be ready for some updates, including a giveaway on Monday. Thanks in advance to any messages you guys leave on this post, whether they are happy birthday wishes, condolences, or expressions about how awkwardly weird life is that you are sending both to the same person at the same time. Thanks for understanding, and please give a hug & kiss to loved ones.*
*Not from me, obviously… you know what I mean.