This past year and a half I have learned what the saying, “When it rains it pours” really means. This past month it has been a wet monsoon.
My grandmother was diagnosed with stage four colon cancer my third year of college, and then my grandfather was diagnosed with dementia at the same time. That turned my world upside down and being at school hard. I was raised in a small town where my family is a priority in my life. Honestly, it’s my number one priority.
The next months following were full of homework, parties, and rehearsals. I didn’t know what the world was going to throw at me. I went through summer heartaches, too much tequila, and drowning in my own sorrow. Yet I knew I eventually I would be where I am now.
A wet monsoon.
The waiting game lasted two weeks. Two weeks of being afraid of the phone ringing or walking into the bedroom to find her gone. The waiting game turned into days, and then it was done. My family’s tears could be its own wet monsoon, but my eyes are dry. Maybe I’m afraid of the raw emotion coming out of me, or maybe I’m realizing she’s really gone. I know she wouldn’t want us crying, she would want us singing and praising the Lord.
To the girl who feels like they’re drowning, what I’ve learned while this pouring rain and monsoon has been going on is: Don’t push people away. You’re going to need them more than you think you will, and they will need you too. Accept the arms being wrapped around you, even if it makes you feel small. You will be OK but you can’t be OK by being alone.
It’s OK to cry, even if it’s behind closed doors. Don’t be embarrassed or feel ashamed. Everyone cries when the world becomes too much. Everyone cries when their hearts are broken, and when people leave. It’s unfair that they leave the people behind with all the pain, but you must remember someday you’re going to be OK.
When it rains it pours, and when it pours it can become a wet monsoon. You aren’t alone, and people are in the same rain boots as you.