Grief Unchecked [Part I] [3866]

Three days before my eighteenth birthday my grandmother passed away. It was an extremely boring day where woke up, I went to school, and came back home. The day carried on as usual, doing all the things I’d regularly done day in and day out: homework, chores, ate dinner, and watched tv. Right before I went to bed I went into her room and gave her a kiss on the cheek and in that moment I just knew something was different. It wasn’t the fact that I came home and she was actually resting, or the way she huddle under her cover. She seemed, tired… and to this day I cannot possibly began to explain it.

A few short hours into the night she was rushed to the hospital and shortly after she passed. In the cold October air, surrounded by grieving family in the darkness of the morning, I felt myself grow numb. Seeing my family go through a wave of emotions— my cousins, aunts, uncles, and my mom— I told myself I’d simply cut it off. Shut out the pain of losing her and remain the strong girl I always tried to be.

I’d opted to remain ignorant to the reality that had forced its way into my life, in denial to the fact that she was no longer there. The days following I got sick, I celebrated my eighteenth birthday and I proceeded to fall into the deepest depression of my life.

I was alive, not quite living but alive. I missed a week of school and afterward life resumed as is. I laughed with my friends, went on school trips, attended prom, and graduated. And yet in every moment I felt like something was missing.  No matter how hard I tried to go back to my previous self, I couldn’t.

I didn’t have my grandma anymore to cook me warm dinners or scold me when my tone was too sarcastic or reassure me with her unwavering wisdom. She wasn’t there to stop me from arguing with my mom or tell me I was in the computer too much or hug me when I felt sad. She simply wasn’t there. In every moment, I felt unwavering sadness.

Not having the person who raised me, guided me, and molded me into her perfect image to hold my hand and continue to lead me into adulthood.

Despite the feeling of complete uncertainty, normalcy seemed to seep into my life regardless of how I felt.

I’d had trouble enjoying life in a way that wasn’t hedonistic— filling my sadness with idle pleasures that often failed to comfort me in the dark of the night. Slowly I learned to be present, to take away the value of material things, to be happy just being.

She wasn’t there anymore but I knew I was still making her proud. In my grief of mourning one of the most important people in my life, I met myself.

I relearned my emotions, discovered new areas of myself I hadn’t been brave enough to explore, and became reacclimated with the present world. And slowly things got better.  I went to college, made new friends, and found new passions.

In my grandmothers absence I learned that there was perfection in imperfection. That my grief was perfectly acceptable in whatever form it manifested.

It took me years to through my grief. Learning to be here and now, taking away the child-like idealistic views of my grandmother, and tackling my emotional evolution: I learned who I was alongside my grandmothers guidance. Now that I’m older, I can look back at that experience and see that although sadness and disparity took control of my life for an unfathomable amount of time, it was a necessary experience.

Losing her was one of the most heart wrenching experiences but finding myself in the midst of that was worth it. Everyday I miss her dearly and crave to hear her voice or hold her hand or feel her arms wrapped around me but I know that she is with me and beaming with pride in spite of it all.

Strangely enough there wasn’t a poem written about my grandmother so I had to sit and put together words to express how I felt and although I couldn’t put everything to pen (or notes app) I still feel that this poem represents where I am in my grief. Missing her, carrying her with me, and still loving her.

Enjoy

Jo🤍

In my head you were a giant. Even in your absence I idolized you. Missing your touch, craving your words.

I realized a while ago that I never stopped grieving you.

Your healing hands or your wise words.

Were something I put away in my mind. A thing that I often forgot or simply did not want to feel.

In your absence I felt lost. Like I could feel you… your spirit or you aura yet I wasn’t quite sure if it as my fault. For locking away the girl you love, for abandoning the young woman you raised me to b, for demanding that I move on— aimlessly.

I didn’t try to forget you. I just tried to forget the pain of you not being here and in doing so I forgot what it felt like to be with you.

Existing outside of reality

I turned 27 and I’ve never felt more content and confused. My birthday week involved something as simple as two concerts, a birthday dinner or two, a pumpkin patch, and a drunk game of pool. And truth be told I couldn’t have asked for anything more.

For my 26th birthday (the golden one), I didn’t do anything fun or spectacular; I usually have a tendency of underplaying my birthday. I have no real reason why or if I do it would probably take several sessions of therapy to get it out of me, but this year was different. Last year, I set a simple goal— to get to know myself without stepping outside of myself— and “to overcome any fears you (I) may have in expressing yourself (myself), and thus come to a better understanding of who you are (I am) and what you (I) can achieve” (a direct quote from my vision board lol). So this year I really sat in my existence and I experienced so many things.

From love to loss, sadness to appreciation, and grief and revelations, I took things year at my own pace and admired it for what it was. I attended my first concert by myself— hell I attended five concerts in general— I experienced love and loss, and I’ve witness the world change right before my eyes.

“Adulthood is (one of) the most ghetto hoods ever”

For my birthday I felt content but also wrong. For finally being happy and content to celebrate and love myself while genocides rage across the world. I felt helpless because all I could do was post information on a social media account and write letters to politicians who didn’t give a fuck. I felt sick knowing that people were holding their family members in fear of the many atrocities being committed against them.

I want to make this very clear, this part is not about me: this is about the marginalized people in the world who are being murdered, brutalized, and attacked for whatever insane reason their oppressors see fit. I cannot exist without pointing out the lack of humanity that seems to exist today. It doesn’t suit me and it never will. My personal social media account may be private but my voice is public and I will always stand with the side of humanity.

For the last month the world has witnessed the ongoing destruction and chaos in Palestine, we’re just now getting a glimpse of the struggles in the Congo, and little to no coverage on what’s happening in Sudan. There’s so many instance of oppression and violence in the world that I’m sad to say I’m not even aware of all of them.

In America we’re experiencing a recession that is beyond my comprehension, an immigration problem that is being flamed by racism and a devolving country, and the political climate that is so arctic it may as well be the new polar ice caps.

In my 27th year, I’ve been growing as a person but it all feels unreal as time passes. Seeing the world in the state it’s in while still being in the comfort of my home, learning myself, while knowing everything that’s going on and the looming consequences of everything.

Capitalism has made us as a society complicit in our captivity. [x]

Brief Passion

Okay. So I took an extended break from posting and I have no true reason why. Some could say depression, being overwhelmed, or even simply pinning it all on overall burnout; yet somehow I manage to take in more passion projects that eventually took prescience over the blog. I struggled with the concept of the ego blog post and truly gave up all hope of trying to make my mind generate words regarding the subject, and therefore I just stoped posting. My time off pushed me into new avenues of creativity; I started playing my sims more seriously (we’ll get into that in a bit), began trying to get back into makeup, and I resumed editing the trilogies (more specifically Mango).

Mango has a new title, some new contexts, and even more juicy bits are being added. For those who are familiar with it, it’s my baby— a book centered around finding love and exploring it… in an interesting way. The story follows along the main character, James, who falls in love with mysterious woman who turns his world upside down. Currently, the book is available on Wattpad but I’m overhauling and editing, making it much for juicy and adding some much needed details and information; so if you’re curious, read at your own risk but there is more to come.

Also during my hiatus, I started up a sims TikTok page— jowithhesims— following my sims shenanigans and storyline. Currently I’m taking a small break from posting but I’ll be back to introducing my sims family and showcasing the glamours and slightly chaotic lives of my sims family. I’ve been playing for myself and fixing my game and in doing so my sims are now aging up on me and it’s driving me crazy. Between my sims with six kids, the one getting married, and the one with a candy problem (yes.), I’m at my whits end.

I’ve added a new section to the website and it’s centered around makeup looks of the past and present. Makeup has always been a passion of mine since college and I’ve made it my mission to create looks and moments that just bring me joy and inspire creativity. I’ve dabbled in a few makeup looks but I feel like there’s so much more I can do and learn. Currently, the section is filled with old looks but moving forward I’ll be posting more and including product details.

At the start of the year, I created this vision board and made promises to to lull myself out of whatever head fog I’d been in for the past few years and between navigating that and trying to maintain my hobbies and interest, my energy ran low real quick. In my absence, I wanted to invest into the things that brought me joy and in doing so g(h)gh ended being outing the back burner— and for that I’m sorry. But now we’re back —and hopefully— better than ever. I look forward to exploring my hobbies and sharing those experiences with you guys as well as updating and chatting on the blog.

Who am I without the ego? (Part I)

In truth, I don’t know who I am without my ego. And I want to apologize for taking such a long hiatus from blogging and creating. The issue at hand was that this topic stunted me. Made me realize that I am not without my ego because without it I’m not me.

To me, my ego isn’t a bad thing or something that I couldn’t live without but it was something that I never paid attention to. In the nuisance of my daily life, how I interacted with others— and with myself— my ego wasn’t something separate of me. It was me. It was woven into my very fabric of being and in trying to comprehend this topic I got lost. I misunderstood what my ego was, how it affects me, how it would impact my interactions with life; and it made me feel shitty. It made me feel like a failure; like I’d taken the ultimate test of life and got every single question wrong.

So all this to say, who am I without my ego? Not myself. Probably someone I wouldn’t like, definitely someone who is foreign to my very existence, but certainly not the person I look at in the mirror every day.

Attached below is the original post I’d written in hopes of gaining some clarity but truthfully it felt like word vomit. A amalgamation words and thought thrown together until what I thought was a competent conversation developed…. It didn’t.

Truth be told, the ego is something that confuses me to no end. Even in school the topic was so… daunting— always perceived as something negative and haughty or explained as a percentage of a person identity that needed reduced into oblivion.

At the mention of an ego, I immediately get this imagery of an iceberg or hear Beyoncé singing about a big ego (even though we ALL know what that song was about). Upon trying to research this topic and gauge what I wanted to say, I came up with next to nothing.

Originally, there was a tik tok that eloquently explained the point and it would been my driving factor. But like most things in the internet, it got deleted. The video, from what I could remember posed the question it “who are you without your ego” and I was so in awe because how in the world could anyone answer that. A lot of people can hardly identify who they are with their ego so to pose a question that’s so loaded with ambiguity almost felt like a crime.

To me, my ego was a persona of learned characteristic and traits that I’d gathered and cultivated to protect and shield myself throughout my twenty six years of being alive. Overall, my ego was my fears and hesitations that helped keep me locked away from other, in hopes that no one never really know who I was and couldn’t hurt me.

Upon looking deeper into the internet for guidance, the ego was listed as something that needed to be shed or die because it hindered your soul. Either being defined as “the one of the three divisions of the psyche in psychoanalytic theory that serves as the organized conscious mediator between the person and reality especially by functioning both in the perception of and adaptation to reality” by Merriam-Webster Dictionary. Or even being called the {…}

Different year, New Reality, Same old me [3091]

We made it y’all! It’s 2023 and here we are. Four years post-pandemic, six months after Renaissance (still no visuals), and one full week into a new year. 2022 sped by like 7 chicks in a Nissan Altima, and yet the year was filled with so much. A year of change— good and bad, a year of evolution, and a year of self-reflections.

New Year's Eve felt less like a pivotal ending and more like a cathartic intermission. This is why I rung in my new year as relaxed as possible: with a cup of spiked hot chocolate, on my couch watching movies and falling asleep to a sound bath right around midnight.

So far, 2023 has been just that: a cathartic intermission. Still, jam-packed and wild like its predecessor, still not as chaotic as 2019, and still somehow interesting. 2023, so far feels very… propulsive (thank you google). Like the calm right before the storm.

Truth be told, I hate New Year's resolutions. They often feel like a cop-out or a finite goal that oftentimes goes unfulfilled. Usually, resolutions get interrupted by the reality of life and it feels silly to even have existed in the first place. I realized that in the past, I’ve spent my years anticipating an evolution of myself that succeed my current and past realities— a resolution to all my problems that somehow didn’t even align with who I was.

With that realization, I proposed a simple yet heavy declaration that seem true to my current reality and the future to come: to get to know myself without stepping outside of myself. In simple terms: it’s me accepting that the best version of my existence is continuously evolving, ever so fleeting, and periodically nonexistent. Accepting this truth was enough to help me realize that the past and present versions of me coexist simultaneously to help the present and future versions of me survive and continue to evolve into the person I truly am.

I’d also accepted that in the previous year, I lived as a shell of myself. In a sense of less: barely socializing, mentally drained, spiritually lost. I’d concluded that resolutions and sporadic revolutions seemed to be more of a hindrance to my existence— especially as I continued to lose who I was. Realizing how easy it would be to blame the devolutions and transformations on so many things but accepting the truth that maybe it was a necessary reality.

For the good portion of the year, I kept trying to pinpoint when I was happier, more of an active participant in life and actually involved in my hobbies. The constant comparison of then and now made me weary of where I was and where I was headed and where I wanted to be. It made me realize that the new year didn’t mean a new personality or a new gang of hobbies; it simply meant honing in on the person I am and continuing to cultivate her. Accepting that the past me that was “happier” couldn’t possibly survive the version of me today and being okay with that, and truth be told I revel in it.

Rather than being upset, I accept the not-so-linear path of growth and continuously come back to who I am. I think that the pieces of tranquility and turmoil prepared me for the person that I am in this present day and still exist within me. This realization of myself helped me to acknowledge that I exist synchronically in the past and present while consistently preparing for the future.

Below is a poem where I probably was having an existential crisis…

Enjoy,

Jo 🤍

They say time isn’t real. Yet time is infinitely changing and colliding; bending in this way and that.

The time I spend with you is limitless yet the time you spend with me is fleeting. At times when 3am looks very similar to 11:59 in the afternoons when there’s nothing else on my mind but the thought of life colliding with one another.

Time isn’t real because it’s beyond the reality that we see, that we touch. Time is infinite because it’s everywhere and nowhere all at once. Time isn’t real.

Because neither are you

—and me.

25, you taught me so much I think I missed the lesson. [10.26.2020][3347]

I never thought of my birthday as anything special. It’d always been a day in the year that would push me closer to adulthood and further away from my childhood. Then it became a day where I could go and buy alcohol legally and not be embarrassed.

Now it was just a day. It never had much sentiment to me and it devalued even more once my grandmother and aunt passed away.

But experiencing 2020 taught me something: life is worth living and I’m worth the celebration.

For the first time in forever I actually indulged on myself. Not by buying things to fill a void or participating in events so people won’t think I’m soulless, but actually celebrating me.

As I rung in my 24th day I felt that I should say what is on my mind. And that simply put was that, I am Jocelyn. With the biweekly existential crisis I had and my lack of faith in humanity (and sometimes myself), I forced myself to pause and reevaluate what it was that I wanted and what I wanted others to get from the experience with me.

I had this bad bitch quote written for my birthday caption on Instagram but as I sat doing my makeup and watching Maid in Manhattan I realized I just don’t give a fuck.

The caption was “The people who mumble your name in private never have the balls to speak in a crowded room” and when I came up with this I thought I came up with fire. I was yelling fuck you to the naysayers, the haters, and the people who doubted me. I was telling my depression and anxiety to go eat a big bowl of fucks. But I realized it wasn’t about any of that.

It was about me. I needed to stake my claim in my life. I had to become the main character in my own story. Normally, I took comfort in being the background character, the supporting sidekick, the therapeutic friend.  But it began to feel uncomfortable; like I could be that but so much more.

And then I turned 25.

I prayed for the removal of things and people from my life that weren’t for me. I begged the universe and God for clarity as I entered this new stage in my life. Crying silently at night asking to be the person I knew I was supposed to be, free of all the emotions that plagued me when I was awake.

And they listened. I lost 80% of my friends, got my first apartment, and began to like myself a little more than I usually did. The facade of Jocelyn that existed before was no longer a version of myself I didn’t know. I felt more solidified in myself. More stable, more grounded, more… me— ?

And yet in the same breath I took the peace and the growth and built a new cocoon.

Covid made it easy to forget the world existed because it was a simple equation: work, home, sleep, again. Work. Home. Sleep. AGAIN.

My days filled with music as I drowned out the world in my commute to work quickly turned into days in my home singing loudly as I cooked breakfast. Work felt less like a chore and more like an accomplishment as I sat on the furniture I worked hard to save money for. Sleep wasn’t something I needed to reset the day and make me want more, it was a refresher before a new day.

Then the days begin to string together and my home became the only place I knew of. My office, my club, my Starbucks, and my bedroom. Everything flowed together like a spiderweb and I looked up and I was 26.

I didn’t…. Exist if that makes sense. I was put away neatly for my own protection against the things I begged to be removed from me. The things I cried about, to friends, to myself, to my pillow. I felt scared. To be in the world I used to detest. The world that I felt too strange to exist in. And now here I am. Looking back at the last year in admiration and utter confusion.

Confusion because I existed without living yet again.  26 gave me lesson, for sure, but twenty six made me confront something that I thought I’d realized. I don’t know me. At least not well enough. The version of me that I knew of was strong,  certain, and didn’t need anyone or anything all while secretly needing everyone and everything. I knew I needed the support, the validation, the encouragement to keep going. And yet it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t valid.

Begging for ammunition from people who didn’t have it or didn’t have their best foot forward in life; in our relationship. I was begging, pleading, and demanding more from people when I didn’t even have it myself.

So I spent a year in solitary hoping to gain some clarity. Some understanding on who and what it was that I needed and the only thing I could discern was that I needed no one. Wanted nothing. Needed everything.

26 gave me lessons I still can’t comprehend. Even with the year of more, even with the year of less. I’m still learning: about myself, about my life, about my existence. But at least I’m trying, right?

See you at 27,

Jo 🖤

I lost hope. In myself, in the world, in others. Because somewhere along the path life began to twist and turn and wreak havoc on my innocence.

I lost faith. In the future, because of my past, no longer in the present. Because of words that formed together to create a litany of deceit.

I lost myself. In society, in my head, despite all that I’d worked for. Simply because I was too afraid to allow myself to be free.

I am at a loss of words. Because I lost hope and faith and myself. Truthfully because I was too afraid to be free in this world that gave me a litany  of words of deceit that wreaked havoc on my innocence.

Validation: why they’ll never validate you. [3240]

Friend , I say this kindly; they’re never going to make you feel secure… so give it up.

As humans we always want to be affirmed that what we’re doing is correct, proper, well received, acceptable: when the reality is no one will ever be able to give you the affirmation that your looking for. Instagram will never make your feel better, the people on the street are not going to make your feel beautiful based off of their 10 second perception of you,  your family who you see four times a year shouldn’t have such a high valued opinion of your life.

We’re raised in a world where the commentary of other is meant to be taken with a grain of salt but now and days people talk as if their reality of you is set and finite. Recently people’s opinions have become a source of validity when the truth is it’s just that: it’s THEIR OPINION. And that’s the proof of the pudding, right? When you go to bed at night, it’s you who has to deal with you and everything you go through and the choice you make; when you open your eyes, it’s you who has to get yourself going for this life.

All of this is to say that outside opinions don’t matter, or at least they shouldn’t. I think we live in time where people need to be validated by others because that’s what we’re taught: that peoples perceptions of you are more important than your reality. And it’s hard to say that’s not true because we check out social medias, and ask out friends ‘what do you think?’ to sway how we steer the path of our life and yet, even then sometimes people still feel unfulfilled, lost, misguided.

As humans we naturally seek out guidance, nourishment, and community but our society has gotten us to the point that we seek out codependency and validation.

The tough truth is they’ll never be able to validate you or make you feel the security that you’re looking for. They too have their own world, and truth be told they don’t care. At least in theory— not to say your friends and family don’t care about you but when it boils down it’s always self preservation. Self awareness, acceptance, and accountability is the name of the game: being able to steer a path for yourself that’s not only yours but firm in your beliefs, wants, and needs. Without the outside noise of the world that makes your think you like something when the truth is you hate it.

I wrote this simply to say look within. Cause no matter how many conversations you have, how many views and likes that post gets, or how many people compliment you; if you can’t live with you then why would someone else?

Peace,

jo 🫶🏾

I’ve always wanted to be seen by eyes that never saw me; heard by ears that never listen to me; desperate to feel love from a shell  that was so empty that it echoed back my admiration.

I wanted to feel arms protecting me in an embrace that I could only translate to be a hug despite the fingers that coiled delicately around my neck. No matter how much I gave, how much of myself I poured into others, their cup was always broken, falsified by the illusions of duality; lovingly hateful, happily angry, peacefully violent.

Comfort grew from the flames because I was born in a inferno; I never knew the difference between a sharp knife and dull blade because oftentimes pain meant love and love meant hate.