2024 has been quite the year, and it isn’t even over! Yet, it is still moving incredibly fast.
We bought our first home in the city last fall and moved in seven months ago. My younger daughter Alice was diagnosed with autism spectrum disorder (ASD) and finally potty trained this spring. Both my maternal grandparents died within a month of each other this summer. Work is busier than ever. I have pushed forward through it all, with little time for self-reflection or “me time.”
My immediate response to life changes has been logical: address the concerns, get a plan in place, execute, and move forward. Any feelings about them get tucked away until they bubble up. Like the famed heroine Scarlett O’Hara once said, “I will think about it tomorrow.” I can cry tomorrow. I can feel upset tomorrow.
Unfortunately for me, crying was something I could not shrug off. I have cried about these pivotal life changes this year at some point, even at work. I wouldn’t say I like crying; I wouldn’t say I like it except when I am laughing or in physical pain. Crying has signified weakness for me. Work has always been that sacred place where I kept my feelings in check at the office because “there’s no crying at work.” This year, in these past few months, that rule was overruled by doubt, sorrow, and exhaustion.
I still remember the Friday a few weeks ago when I told my boss I was feeling fried and needed help. For a person who has prided herself on powering through life and wearing a brave face, the admission of exhaustion was defeating and cathartic. I should have done it a long time ago. It’s hard for me to ask for help, especially when it’s for me.
I write this as I sit on a plane home, sitting between both my daughters. It is the longest I have sat down to write anything non-work or child-related in nearly a year. As I write, these life changes have come with their catharsis. With Alice, there’s therapy and school support. With my grandparents’ deaths, I found comfort in traveling to Texas twice, once to see them in March and this past week to visit my aunts and cousins with the children. While we still have a few accessories to add to our new home, like lamps, art, and a new console (still in its box), we are making new memories and routines in our newfound neighborhood and community.
While I can’t choose when life changes happen, I can give myself the grace and space to feel the emotions associated with each one. Crying isn’t a sign of weakness; sometimes, crying is just the emotional release I need to move forward and find peace. d to move forward and find peace.
