yes, babies! i’m on break for a little bit.
but i didn’t want to leave you hanging, so i am sharing with you some content i scheduled to come out during the time i’m out recharging.
enjoy - please share and comment. what insights do you have on grief? do you struggle to handle loss?
a supernova can outshine an entire galaxy, its explosion bright and powerful enough to be seen across the universe.
imagine the cataclysmic beauty of SN 1987A, the closest supernova to earth in nearly four centuries. its brilliance was a testament to the immense energy and force released in such a short span.
grief can feel like that—a supernova has gone off in your universe, scattering the pieces of your heart into chaos.
yet, in the modern world, we’re often expected to show up to work, to perform our responsibilities, to carry on as if our hearts haven’t been shattered.
recently, someone close to me died by suicide. he was my first love, someone i dated long ago. although we hadn't talked in years, we remained courteous and friendly. his death hit me like a tidal wave. it was a stark reminder of life's fragility. i’ve mourned the loss of many relationships, romantic or not, and the losses of family members before. however, i can't possibly claim to understand the depths of grief that many experience, but i know the losses i have experienced have given me a glimpse into the profound pain that comes with loss.
i remember watching the hbo series hacks, where deborah vance takes ava for a drive in the desert under the guise of getting to know her. but it was really to buy a super fancy and pricey salt shaker that the shop owner refused to sell to deborah directly. later, when deborah’s rolls royce breaks down in the middle of the desert, ava explodes, frustrated by how hard the gig is. deborah's response is brutal and real:
"you think this is hard? you got plucked off the internet at what, 20? you just got lucky... you have to scratch and claw, and it never fucking ends. and it doesn't get better. it just gets harder. don't complain to me that i'm making your life hard. you don't even know what that means."
that scene hit me like a punch to the gut. grief feels like that sometimes—like scratching and clawing through an endless, relentless storm. and it doesn’t get better. we’re expected to show up, to scratch and claw through our days, even when we’re falling apart inside.
but here’s the truth: it’s okay to not be okay.
it’s okay to acknowledge that your heart is in pieces, that every step feels like dragging your soul through quicksand. it’s okay to take time for yourself, to grieve, to feel the depth of your pain.
showing up in grief doesn’t mean pretending everything is fine. it means showing up as you are, with your broken heart, your tears, your raw, unfiltered emotions. it means being honest about your struggles, even if it’s just with yourself. it’s finding the strength to be vulnerable, to admit that you’re hurting, to ask for help when you need it.
we live in a world that values productivity over humanity. we’re told to push through, to keep going, to not let our personal pain interfere with our professional responsibilities. but this mindset is toxic. it disregards our need for healing, for space, for the simple act of grieving.
here’s how i’ve learned to navigate grief in a world that demands our constant performance:
set boundaries: communicate your limits to your employer, your colleagues, your friends. let them know when you need space, when you can’t take on more, when you’re struggling to just get through the day.
find your support system: lean on the people who understand, who can hold you up when you’re falling apart. it’s okay to rely on others, to seek comfort and understanding from those who love you. talk to someone! talk about the loss. and let yourself be loved.
give yourself grace: allow yourself to grieve in your own way, at your own pace. there’s no right or wrong way to process loss. be patient with yourself, and recognize that healing takes time.
be present with your pain: don’t try to bury it or push it aside. feel it, acknowledge it, and let it flow through you. only by facing our grief can anyone really begin to heal.
in hacks, deborah’s words are harsh, but they carry a kernel of truth. life is hard. it’s full of struggles and pain and relentless challenges. but it’s also full of moments of beauty, of connection, of love. even in the depths of our grief, we can find these moments. we can hold onto them, let them light our way through the darkness.
so if you’re grieving, if your heart has exploded like a supernova, know this: it’s okay to be broken. it’s okay to not have it all together. show up as you are, with all your pain, and know that you are enough.
you are worthy of love, of compassion, of understanding! and you are not alone.