over-identifying with my suffering

i recently discovered that i was conceived three months after my paternal grandfather died.

i immediately went into meaning making.

grief baby. i was a grief baby.

my parents had me to fill the hole that my grandfather left.

they didn’t have time to process their grief—my purpose was to bring them joy. at 32, sometimes my purpose STILL feels like it’s to bring them joy. i am comedic relief.

but then, something new happened.

i thought to myself—maybe i was a grief baby. maybe i can feel the sadness of that. maybe i can let it move through me. maybe i can even let it go, instead of holding on to it so tightly, instead of making it a new, permanent part of my identity.

i’ve been thinking about my choice to over-identify with my suffering over the past two years. things have been hard. my mental health has been really bad. the world is quite literally collapsing around us.

but everything is also a matter of perspective. if i wake up every day, choosing to see myself as someone who’s suffering, someone who’s going through it.

when will i ever have time for joy?

what if i just choose to be a happy person? maybe at first it feels fake. a little toxically positive. but what if i could validate my experiences, my discoveries, and let them move through me? and beyond me? instead of clinging to them so tightly.

what if i am not every bad thing that’s ever happened to me? what if i can choose who i am every day? what if i’m just me?

xoxo

m