Friendship, Too-Muchness and Loss

Friendship did not always come easily to me

As a child, I struggled to make true friends. I was perhaps too open, too enthusiastic (especially about school and homework...I know) and too vulnerable; in a perfect storm I came to understand that all of the things that made me, me, were "too much" for the majority of the other children that I encountered.

In 6th grade I became depressed, stopped eating, isolated myself when I was in school, and began failing all of my classes.

The awareness of my "too muchness" was too heavy to process, so I spent the next 6 years home-schooling myself. (fun fact!) This allowed me to geek out over school, follow my own schedule and meet a handful of really amazing people....but also to completely avoid the discomfort (if they can't see me, my feelings can't be hurt!).

And then I met Juan.

Suddenly I wasn't too much. I was perfect.

Suddenly I didn't want to hide. I wanted him to see me.

My experiences were connected to him. He saw me. He cared about what I had to say. He loved me for every imperfection and celebrated every single tiny accomplishment. He thought I was amazing.

So as I understood it, my confidence, bravery and total sense of self was connected to him. He was the only one that knew all of the pieces of me and didn't want to change a thing.

So for a long time, I decided that I didn't need anyone else in my life...in our lives...in any kind of intimate way.

But ultimately, loving someone with a terminal illness is isolating.
When I was in it, I couldn't understand that. I knew that others who were our age, were living such different lives, going away to college, partying with friends, bar-hopping at 21... our days were filled with experiences I felt they wouldn't understand...like hospitals and medications and living wills.

I was completely satisfied with my deep friendship and love with Juan, and the large amount of those others whom I was friendly with.

But when Juan passed, I found myself in a bit of a pickle. Not only did I lose my best friend, my husband and the man I fell in love with at the age of 14, but also my only solid connection, support and cheerleader (other than our immediate family).

It was a long journey toward finding myself after losing so much.

It wasn’t until I opened myself up again, little by little, that I began to see myself as Juan saw me.

It is perhaps my proudest accomplishment to date.

As I began to see my worth, my beauty, my abilities, others did too.

I learned that Juan wasn’t the only one who could see me, hear me, understand me…

I learned that others didn’t hold the key to my worth…that I alone own that.

I can not say that I am grateful for my grief…because at the end of the day, we all want our person back.

But I am forever filled with gratitude for the Information that I have received and still receive, on this grief journey.

I am eternally grateful for the connections, both IRL and here on Instagram, that have challenged my thinking, inspired next moves, supported my heart and ideas with kind words and affirmations…for all of those that see, hear and seek to understand and accept.

Let’s make it a point to be that for each other. We cannot under-estimate the value of feeling seen, heard and understood.

Consider reaching out to 3 individuals today who hold your space, lift you up and who never ever confuse your radiance to “too muchness”. Thank them for being them and for seeing you…and tell them to pass it on.