Still Standing Magazine

  • Email
  • Facebook
  • Instagram
  • Twitter
  • About
    • About The Editor
    • Note from the Founder
  • Write For Us
  • Advertise
  • Resources
    • Worldwide Mental Health Hotlines/Resources
    • Expressions of Grief
  • Contact Us
    • FAQs
    • Terms of Use/Privacy
  • FAQs
    • Still Standing Commenting
  • Terms of Use/Privacy

March 9, 2016

I Can’t Just Survive This

Franchesca Cox

I Can’t Just Survive This
  •  
  •  
  •  
  •  
  •  
  •  
  •  

I have a confession: I don’t want to survive this.

I want to thrive. I want all this unfathomable, ridiculous and stupid pain and the oceans of tears that seem to have no end in sight to mean something past the fact that I buried my firstborn.

I want my daughter’s life and death to mean something.

And by mean something I am not suggesting that her death could ever be okay, or justified, but I do want something GOOD to come of it.

And it’s more than the fact that I want her to have a legacy (though I feel like she does, in everything that I do, or say, whether or not people recognize that it is her legacy).

Her loss pierced me personally.

I have been wounded to the core, but I don’t want to live out my life just wounded.

A part of me will always be fractured. Not quite whole again.

Just like your body learns to build scar tissue around open wounds, my desire to continually grow from my experience.

My personal experience.

My daughter and I suffered in two astronomically different ways.

I fully believe she is free from pain and I am thankful I don’t ever have to worry over her again, but her healing doesn’t do a whole lot to mend the broken parts inside me that will always long to mother her, hold her hand and walk her through life.

I don’t know how you go from being completely broken to one day craving light even a little bit again… but you just do.

And it happens differently for everyone, so don’t let anyone’s journey or timeline or story influence how you are truly to the core feeling.

You just find yourself in a new (and usually uncomfortable at first) place in grief.

Where you don’t feel intensely sad anymore, and you can’t figure out why.

I am begging you to explore that place.

If you’re still intensely sad, then by all means — be sad.

But if you’re feeling antsy about getting your hair done again or painting your nails or going to a comedy show (something that you haven’t done or wanted to do since before grief), then by all means do! And go!

Explore things that don’t make your world worse.

Dare to live outside the four walls of grief by societal terms – even when your own heart is screaming at you that you should be sad.

Or mad. Or depressed.

Or whatever.

Push back. Tell your heart that grief can’t be boxed in.

It can look a million different ways.

You just proved it.

And here is where I have found the most resistance to be since losing a child. Not the hardest, but it was a close second. And 100% self-induced.

The hardest part was undeniably losing her, of course.

The next hardest thing was learning to live again.

My biggest enemy was staring me back in the mirror, every single morning. Me, myself and I.

I stood in the way of my own happiness and my own healing. Some days I felt I didn’t deserve it and some days I just wasn’t interested in healing.

It didn’t feel right in a thousand different ways. I tried to find my balance again, like learning to walk again… in this new world and fell time after time after time.

I didn’t make a lot of progress for a long time, but I learned to appreciate the struggle (please check out this TED talk by Zain Asher, not loss related but still SO GOOD).

Every fall, every setback, every time I told myself I couldn’t or shouldn’t or wouldn’t again, but then got back up anyway a day later, or a week later or a month later… I didn’t know it then but I was building muscle.

I was becoming.

Tenacity.

You will make it either way, but if you want to make it to the other side – past function and mere existence – it will be some of the hardest work you will ever do in your life.

You won’t surface without scars.

You won’t learn to breathe again without practically suffocating to death.

And you won’t be able to ever say, that could never happen to me — because it did.

But you will rise, and you will find.

You will come through this.

Compassion will overwhelm your soul. For the hurting. And the broken. And the lonely.

But so much tenacity that you will build for endurance through this impossible stretch will also make you vulnerable to permanent hardness.

Resist this.

Tenacity will get you through the trenches, but it will also create a callous on your heart if it stays longer than it should.

Break into compassion, even when it’s hard.

Even when all of this doesn’t make sense.

Even when your heart’s breaking.

People need your story.

They need your light, and they need your darkness too.

They need to hear about the mother or father (or sister or brother) who faced their worst nightmare and lived anyway.

Be exceptional.

Be broken.

Be ready to heal.

Be whatever it is you need to be, but above all else be brave enough to break the rules on grief.

Again and again and again.

Franchesca Cox

Franchesca Cox is the founder of Still Standing Magazine. She is currently seeking her Master’s in Occupational Therapy, a yogi and author of Celebrating Pregnancy Again and Facets of Grief, a creative workbook for grieving mothers. Learn more about her heartwork on her website.

franchescacox.com

Related


  •  
  •  
  •  
  •  
  •  
  •  
  •  

About Franchesca Cox

Franchesca Cox is the founder of Still Standing Magazine. She is currently seeking her Master's in Occupational Therapy, a yogi and author of Celebrating Pregnancy Again and Facets of Grief, a creative workbook for grieving mothers. Learn more about her heartwork on her website.

Archives

Copyright © Still Standing Magazine, LLC
To inquire on republishing posts or for public use other than social sharing, please contact the editor.
Print for personal use only.
Print Friendly, PDF & Email

Previous Post: « Every. Single. Day.
Next Post: Moving Boxes »

Reader Interactions

{Your Thoughts} Cancel reply

Comments

  1. Anne says

    March 9, 2016 at 11:48 am

    I read this and felt like aI wrote it!!!!❤

    Reply Report comment
  2. Charles Morris says

    March 9, 2016 at 12:51 pm

    Watch your thoughts: They become words. Watch your words: They become actions. Watch your actions: They become habits. Watch your habits: They become character: Watch your character:It becomes your destiny

    I am encouraged by the posts I read on Still Standing. I have devoted twenty eight years to the “topic”. I helped carry the coffin that held my wife and eight year old son. Unknowingly I employed the positive attitude Franchesca is describing.

    In the beginning there were no bright spots. The beautiful sunsets were ugly and insulting, nothing was “right”. By segrateing and identifying the(stages) elements of grief I was able define and direct my efforts. The emotional toxins had to eliminated. Grief showed me the way, to my new life. I started to use the words(anger, denial, depression,hope,acceptance) that make up grief. I was the architect of my new life and I did not want it built with the elements of grief.

    Compassion, understanding, kindness and a never ending appreciation for my precious “new life” are just some of the results of my exploration. I am happy. There were glimpses of hope along the way, and then hope stayed.

    Charles Morris, author, Butterfly, The journey from loss to recovery.

    Reply Report comment
  3. nancy van wieren says

    March 10, 2016 at 12:18 am

    Thank you for your story and beautiful words, I hope they can help my daughter who lost her little girl Kennedy on December 3, 2015.

    Reply Report comment
Newer Comments »

Primary Sidebar

W E L C O M E
Founded in 2012, Still Standing Magazine, LLC, shares stories from around the world of writers surviving the aftermath of loss, infertility - and includes information on how others can help. This is a page for all grieving parents. If you grieve the loss of your child, no matter the circumstances, you are welcome here.
Subscribe To Our New Posts
Advertising
Write For Us
Contact Us
FAQ

Join Our Online Support Group -
T O G E T H E R
  • About
  • Write For Us
  • Advertise
  • Resources
  • Contact Us
  • FAQs
  • Terms of Use/Privacy

Footer

  • Email
  • Facebook
  • Instagram
  • Twitter

Categories

Recently Posted

  • Redefining Christmas And The New Year
  • Dear Meghan
  • October: What Lighting A Candle Means To Me
  • For Medical Professionals Caring For Parents Who Have Lost A Child In A Multiple Pregnancy
  • The Acknowledgement Of The Few

Copyright © 2021 · Still Standing Magazine, LLC