Another Mo(u)rning, Another Day

My life has practically been defined in relation to my mom.  In elementary school when prompted to draw pictures of our families, I would proudly show off how well I could draw a wheelchair.  Middle school health reports were always done on MS, in order to better understand what this illusive "MS" actually was.  When applying to colleges my essay focused on how my mom's disease and death effected me.  Lately, it seems that all I ever do in therapy is talk about what it was like to grow up in a beautifully abnormal family.

Even this blog is more about understanding my life without her than being this so-called "Midwest Misplant."

There's comfort in that though, in a twisted way.  Because as I grow older and feel more and more distant from the person and life I was leading just four years ago, I know that I really will not ever lose her.  New experiences are constantly triggering the return of forgotten memories; memories that bring a smile to my face and sometimes a deeper understanding of who I am and how she shaped me.

Four years ago, someone who was barely an acquaintance sent me a message saying that losing someone will never ever get any easier, but it will get better.  I was angry that someone would say such a thing to me when my grief was so fresh.  Surely he could not understand the stabbing pangs of sadness that wracked my world.  But four years out, it makes perfect sense and is advice I want to share with everyone out there, for we have all lost someone we love.  It never gets easier.  It haunts your daily life, even if just in the background.  But somehow, the pain really does get better.  If you take the time to listen to the white noise of sadness, you can embrace it; take control of it rather than letting it swallow you whole.  I said yesterday that life is exactly what you make of it.  I'm not saying to just get over the sadness, the death, the disease.  In fact, I'm saying the exact opposite– embrace your emotions and let them become a part of you, and eventually some of the pain will transform into strength and courage.

Losing someone you love so dearly, so important in your life, is always going to hurt.  I wish I could say otherwise.  Hell, I wish it could be otherwise.

I miss my mom so very much.  There have been so many things in the past year that I wish I could have shared with her.  As I continue to learn and grow, there's always a part of me sad to leave the past behind; sad to stray even further from the Madysen she knew.  But if I know one thing for sure about my mom, it's that she would love me no matter who I became and would be my absolute biggest cheerleader in this process of living life and growing up.

So I'm embracing the sadness today, just like I try to every day.  I'm embracing the pain that keeps her memory close to the surface, letting those memories flood in, but remembering that moving forward does not equate to forgetting her.

Today is just as hard as it was four years ago, but's better.

If you care to read last year's post, I'll make it easy and link to it here.


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Meet The Author

I'm Madysen, born and raised in Nebraska but now living out my dreams in New York City. I moved here to go to Columbia, but living in New York has become so much more to me. This blog is a space where I can share my experiences of reconciling my midwestern upbringing with the life I live in the city. But even bigger than that, this blog serves as a space where I can try to understand where I fit into the larger social world, where I want to go in life, and how I want to go about pursuing all of these endeavors.

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