Content warning: loss of a loved one and heavy emotions.
It’s been four weeks since I received the worst news of my life. That’s a month since my great aunt passed away. It’s still a soft subject for me, I don’t know why I talk about it this much. I’m constantly upset because I’m thinking about her, and then I do things that make me think about her even more.
My life was nearly perfect before. I was attending my dream highschool, making new friends, finding out about myself and my personality. I was even losing weight and my acne was clearing up. I was the happiest I had ever been in my entire life. Then, my only mother figure was ripped away from me.
It was all so sudden. She was 84 and I understand that, but she was so healthy. She did everything she could to make sure of it. To most people, she looked nowhere near her actual age. I had seen her a day prior to her death and everything was perfect. It was Sunday and we went to church together, like we always did. We didn’t do much that day, just enjoyed each other’s company. I wouldn’t have had it any other way.
During the first week, my mind was quiet while my heart felt like it had been physically pulled out and ripped apart. If I wasn’t crying, I was asleep and if I wasn’t asleep, I was crying. It was a vicious cycle that I’m glad I was able to get out of. I was waiting to come back to MSA, I knew I would be happier there. I hate that quiet, empty house where everything reminds me of her, but I love my dad and my dog with all my heart and I’d do anything for them.
“It’ll get better” is something that I used to tell myself all the time. A few years ago, I hit rock bottom. I lost a lot of my friends, failed half of my classes, and hated everything. I promised myself that things would be better and, with time, they did. I found new friends that showed me real friendship and love, my grades excelled, and (for the first time) I loved myself. After a year, I hit rock bottom again. I lost some friends and got caught in highschool drama and I was miserable. This time was different, though. I remembered how I pulled myself up out of the lowest point in my life and I didn’t have to promise myself anything anymore because I knew it would get better. And it did. I came to MSA and I was happier than ever for just 2 weeks.
I keep telling myself that it’ll get better. When I think it does, it all comes crashing down again. The first week back at MSA was great and I thought things were looking up. Then the second week was just awful. The third week started to look better, and now, I’m back in the dumps.
An entire month has passed and I don’t know how to feel. I’ll be completely honest, I’ve never been more disappointed in myself. History is repeating. I think I’ve already lost a few friends, I feel like my grades are dropping, and I don’t feel the same love I had for myself anymore. I tell myself it’ll get better, I know it’ll get better, but right now, it’s so hard to believe.
When I came back to MSA, I was swarmed with love and support and I couldn’t be more grateful. My friends helped me stay distracted from the heavy feelings and my teachers gave me grace while I struggled with motivation and fought to stay focused during class. Dr. Blauw helped in so many different ways, I can’t thank her enough. With this amount of love around me, I’m hopeful for the future and thankful for everyone in my life. This wound will heal with time and I know it’ll get better.





























