Crying It Out

It was my birthday yesterday: a truly magical day spent at the achingly beautiful Cliveden House Spa with my friend Charlotte, where I had the chance to decompress and chill out after what has been a heartbreaking few months with the loss of my auntie Zak.

Even writing that sentence doesn’t feel real.

Not now, and I’m not sure, ever.

Grief comes like waves. Sometimes I feel I can steer the ship OK and other times, I’m lost at sea and literally can’t stop crying.

Last night was one of those nights.

After a peaceful day, (where I of course thought of my aunt lots-I don’t ever, not) to returning home and breaking down in tears at every little thing.

When the kids went to bed, I sat up chatting to my husband, Peter, who has flu at the moment, and openly talked to him about how I was feeling and I cried it out.

The night before saw me experience the worst night terror of my life but thankfully coupled with the relaxing day and opening up to my husband, I managed to sleep through. No waking. No terrors. No anxiety.

I’ve cried many tears over the loss of my auntie. I feel she was stolen too soon. I miss speaking to her, her naughty laugh, the way she lit up a room, and how much of a rock she was to everyone. I can’t accept she’s gone. Not now, no doubt, not ever, but I need to accept that I don’t need to put on a brave face. That I can’t fight the tears. That talking is the answer.

I keep crying at everything at the moment: children in assembly receiving certificates (not even my own kids), the news, happy stories, sad stories, writing this blog post, over a broken bl**dy nail…I feel delicate and emotional but I know there’s nothing wrong with that.

So, I’m just going to cry it out. Even if I never stop.

If you’re feeling upset, please reach out, speak up and know you’re not alone x

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