Don't be strong. Be fluffy.

This week marks the first anniversary of a hard and painful trio of events.

A year ago, my father took his own life in the midst of despair of terminal cancer and the overwhelming inability to financially afford the care he needed in Venezuela.

Two days later my heart was broken again by the man I was in love with, when we had the honest and uncomfortable conversation that he had painfully been avoiding for months. Further spending hours focusing on his discomfort around the situation, forgetting that there was another big thing happening here.

I also - painfully - came to the realisation that Maggie’s Leeds (a home for emotional support for those impacted by cancer), the building I poured my heart and soul into for years, and which I’d hoped would reunite me with my father, would never be seen by him. All within a matter of days that merged into one in the stupor of the news.

“Be strong”, “You are so strong” … “Stay strong”.

That is what people said. I came to resent that word… ‘strong’. As far as I was concerned, it was just another way of people leaving you to handle really difficult things on your own, because “you are strong and you can take it”. And indeed it was.

In all honesty, I came to resent my strength.

My entire life I was taught to put others first, to serve, to be empathetic and considerate. To suck it in, to fight and dislike my naturally expressive nature as feelings should not be expressed, and stay strong. I helped my family financially and emotionally; navigated the re-building of a career (as a woman) from nothing in a country and industry that rarely had any awareness, curiosity or respect for my culture or background; and helped my loved ones find respite in a new life beyond a collapsing country.

I truly thought I had it all under control. I coped, I did the things everyone does to "let off steam". This only made me emotionally stunted. But I was strong.

I accumulated a ton of ghosts and monsters that were stored away in a locked closet that I never looked at, and that I could cope with in secret, until I couldn’t. I was proud of myself, I thought I was doing a great job. But I had no idea how to feel, and all this unconsciously haunted me in depression and unhappiness.

When this insurmountable series of events came, not only was the triple hit bringing acute pain, but also all the other feelings I had not dealt with. This included grief from years before, which had not received the room they needed.

Through all this I discovered that most people have a choice: They can continue avoiding and burying things, continue to cope and barely stay afloat, sinking in now and then.. just like I used to. A year ago, that was not a choice for me anymore.

It was as black and white as learning to do this, or give up on everything all together.

Intense emotions, as I came to realise, are like the sea. The sea is bigger than you, you can't control it or manage it... your strength will only take you so far, and if you are too stiff, too strong, you sink (and if you're drunk, or numb, you drown).

I had to learn to float instead. To use just enough strength to keep my form but mostly surrender and let the water carry me. And when I want to move through it, I swim, and surf ... this, of course, if you don't want your monsters to continue spilling out uncontrollably and sabotage life, people and relationships for the rest of your life.

So for those dealing with grief (whatever type it may be), or witnessing it, or hearing about it… I don’t wish you to be strong, I wish you to be soft and fluffy.

I wish you to find comfort, blankets and tea with a good ear to support you… And let it run through you. I wish you to feel it all. No numbing, no coping, just let it run through.

How, you ask?

Well, I found it to be just like floating and swimming. I study, I learn, I train. I try, I fail, and I try again. Turns out, I got better at it that way, instead of avoiding, bypassing or running away from it... and I found calm at the other end too... who knew?

One of the things I've always loved about the sea is it’s range and depth.

It is beautiful in its messiness and calmness. Magnificent and untameable.. you have to respect it, be soft and strong, and be present if you want to get along. I also love this in other people and I am learning to love it in myself.

I've also learned that feelings only last for a short 7-10 mins if you let them run free, just like those uncomfortable conversations that we may spend a long time avoiding.

If you float through them, they will show you who’s there for you, to hug you, and how you need to hug yourself. They'll teach you more empathy and compassion.

It might just surprise you... this feeling and softness. And just like having that uncomfortable conversation at the right time, it may do exactly the opposite of what your fear said would happen. It may be the opposite of heartbreak and chaos and bring you closer to yourself and to others.

So, this week I'll mostly be soft and fluffy, I'll be floating and swimming.

That is my new definition of strength.

And this one, I love.

Rx