Me Without You

I Once Was, I Now Am, I Will Be. 

About 6 months ago I wrote a post called “Who I Am Without You”. Before, I was a daughter, a sister, a girlfriend, a “conscientious” student and unbeknownst to me, a carer. My role in this life was clearly defined. I knew what this life expected of me, and I was good at what I did. 

Mum passed away and my reality, along with my idea of self, shattered into a thousand shards. Sifting through these jagged and unrecognisable pieces with bloodied hands, I had no idea who the warped and distorted reflection was staring back at me. 

I tried to continue living my life the only way I knew how; focusing my attentions on what I used to do so well and distracting myself by focusing on other people. All the while I was tiptoeing around the gaping hole in my life that was grief, threatened by its overwhelming capacity and power. 

It’s been 15 months now, I think. Before I’d be able to tell you exactly to the hour how long I haven’t seen my mum for. The ticking of time was all I could hear. Now I have to think about it. But yes, it’s coming up to 15 months now. 

So, 15 months ago, I was stripped of everything that I thought made me, me. And what came after a deep long look and sorting through those jagged pieces, was less noise. A silence. Nearly every aspect of my life, to an extent, has been stripped, and what’s left is me. 

So, who is Katie now? 

Once so desperate for silence, I have now fallen back in love with music, the type with lyrics that really speak to a person’s soul. Once again, I turn the volume up as loud as my little car allows, no longer quietened by the empty car seat beside me. Rather I sing for the both of us and I am left feeling exhilarated with a hoarse voice, as though I have been to a live concert after each long distance journey. 

Speaking of concerts, just as when I was 17, I have recently made live music a priority and Evee and I have been to see some of our favourite bands for our birthdays.

Once so anxious for what tomorrow might bring, I have learnt how restful sleep can be and now wake up excited for the day. I’d even go as far as considering myself a morning person (I can hear my mum laugh as I type that). I know that whatever tomorrow does bring, I can handle it. So I wake up early these days, my time is precious to me and I want to make the most of it. Also, I’ve learnt just how much I love breakfast dates with good friends. 

Once so starved; I now give to myself first – my attention, food, time. I no longer busy myself by pleasing others. I am learning to claim what is mine and define my boundaries. Mum always said that I wouldn’t say “boo” to a goose and, really, her and Evee are the only people I have ever felt protective over. Not anymore…I’ve had to ruffle a few feathers and say “boo” to one or two geese recently by learning how to stick up for myself. In doing so I have also learnt to put myself on a pedestal instead of other people and listen and trust the words that come from my voice first.

There’s still a lot that I am trying to figure out in life, aren’t we all?  It’s easy to become fixated on all that we lose in our lives – deaths, relationships that have broken down, lost friendships. I used to think that my experience with grief defined me. I thought people could see it hanging over my head from a mile off. I thought it was going to make me bitter.

During this harsh sort through all of these facets and dealing with my grief, I am getting to know this “stranger” that mum left behind. I have come to realise that I wasn’t a “stranger” at all.

I am still Katie with a dirty laugh that Mum used to describe as a cackle. I am still fiercely independent as she always taught me to be, and I still have my integrity and morals. Sure, I make mistakes sometimes but i can look you in the eye and speak my truth.

What I have come to learn is that identity is fluid. Beliefs, morals, personality make up a person’s core but a person’s identity moulds and grows to the life around it. We all choose how life affects us and our identity. I choose to be better, not bitter.

6 months ago, I wrote, “Now I am faced with life after Mum. Life without Mum, with myself, a stranger, who still bases their decisions on what their Mum would do.” I’m not afraid anymore and i know now that I’m certainly not a stranger. While we lose so much in our lives, I am so thankful to have had 23 years with my mum. I am so thankful to be able to say that losing my mum didn’t mean that I lost myself too. And I am at a point in my life now, where I am grateful to be given the time to get to know myself.

In the last few months, since moving to London and into what I am calling my Purification Phase, there have been moments that I have had to pinch myself because I had no idea that after such losses, life could be this beautiful just for me. I am finally able to say that I recognise the reflection looking back at me and I like who I see.


“I’m a man on fire
Walking down your street
With one guitar
And two dancing feet
Only one desire
That’s left in me
I want the whole damn world
To come and dance with me”

Man on Fire – Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros

I’d like to thank Sean Woolnough for encouraging me to take a look back on some of our older posts which inspired this one. And I encourage the person reading this to take a look back on your own journey whether grief features or not. Reflect on where you once were, where you are now, and where you are headed. You’re on the right path and your future is so bright.  You are doing amazing.   

“You say the sun doesn’t shine for you
I hope you learn that’s not true, in time”

Woman – Mumford & Sons

Copyright © 2019 The Grief Reality. All Rights Reserved

15 thoughts on “Me Without You

  1. Thank you for this inspirational post.
    Although I have not lost my mum, due to circumstances and, how it’s affected me mentally and decisions I have had to make for me, it feels I have lost my mum.
    Next year when back to blogging, I imagine I will need to write some reflective posts.

    1. Hi Liz, I am reading back through some notifications and realised that I never replied to this comment. I really hope that you can find comfort in reflection through writing. You have a great blog 🙂

  2. vincenza63 – Writer e blogger per passione, 56 anni, vivo in provincia di Milano. Nella vita traduco testi tecnici e scrivo. Sono un'appassionata di musica, letteratura, amici, allegria, meditazione e riflessione.
    vincenza63 says:

    Thanks a lot for this Wonderful post.
    Hugs from Italy.
    Vicky

  3. I lost my grandma last year, unexpectedly and it’s been 9 months of trying to rediscover who I am without her. I’ve realised that grief has no guidelines, no boundaries and shapes everyone differently. Thank you for this post, I’ve found a lot of solace in words and lyrics too x

    1. I’m really sorry for your loss and how you are feeling. You’re right, grief has absolutely no boundaries and leaves everyone feeling differently. Take good care of yourself and go gently x

  4. IV WORDS – Martin C. “Red” Fredricks IV here. I’m husband to an amazing woman who is also my best friend, dad to three outstanding kids, Fargoan (North Dakota, that is), proud introvert, veteran messaging strategist/copywriter, blogger and big-time reader. As they say, if you're gonna write good stuff, you have to read good stuff. A ginger, too - ergo the "Red" - although some of it's going white. Cinnamon-Sugar, I call it. Tattooed to boot; five so far. At age 52, I still crank AC/DC, but now and again I love me some Eric Church and Black Uhuru, too. I love hanging out with my (much) better half, spending time with our kids, writing, hiking and riding my mountain bike.
    IV WORDS says:

    Your insights into yourself are impressive, and the way you express them hits me where it hurts, but also makes me feel good.

    What I mean is, this took me back to the death of my own mother, more than six years ago now. I was 44 years old at the time. I can’t image what it would have been like to lose her at your age. Here’s something I wrote at the time; perhaps you can relate to saving and holding sacred things. They’ve helped me. – https://ivwords.com/2014/06/30/sacred-things/

    This is an especially hard lesson to learn; good for you for getting there – “…I now give to myself first – my attention, food, time… In doing so I have also learnt to put myself on a pedestal instead of other people and listen and trust the words that come from my voice first.”

    That’s how I try to live, with the exception of putting my wife and children first most of the time (most, not all). It’s important.

    Beautiful post. Thank you for sharing.

    BTW, thank you for introducing me to Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros. Listening to them right now…

    1. Thank you so much for this comment. It truly means so much to me to have someone really read what I have to say about how grief has changed our lives and who we are as people. Everyone grieves and we are so passionate about talking about it.

      I will take a look at your link – thank you.

      I love Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros, I am so happy that you enjoy them too! Home is one of my favourite songs by them

      Take care,

      Katie

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