My first “normal” day after my mom died.

I had booked a massage, which felt utterly ridiculous.

I get a massage once a month as part of my self-care plan, but I had just had a massage, so it wasn’t time for it, according to my budget.

I knew my mom would tell me to get it anyway. While she was a cheap ass, she always encouraged me to spend my money on things that would bring me joy.

My car is in the shop, so Brad had to drive me to my massage, for which I was secretly grateful, because I don’t know if I would have had the courage to go otherwise.

As we pulled into the parking lot, I started sobbing.

I said, “I did this to try to be normal, but I don’t know if I can.”  Brad assured me I could and encouraged me to be honest with the massage therapist.

As I exited the car, he said, “Go be normal!”

The massage therapist’s name was Kristi. She asked me what type of massage I was in for today.

I replied, “My boyfriend encouraged me to be really honest with you.”

She nodded.

I said, “My mom passed away last week.” I started to cry.

I was being so brave. My Uncle Andrew had told me to keep saying it out loud. If I can say it loud, I can better process it.

I continued, “My body hurts. Like, physically hurts. Every night, I go to bed, and it feels like I have run a marathon, and I don’t even run.”

Kristi responded, “I understand. I lost my mom three years ago. Heartbreak manifests in the whole body.”

While Kristi massaged me, I did my very fucking best to allow my mind to be free of sadness. And guess what? I fell asleep on the table! That’s how relaxed I was! I won a mini war against my brain, against my body. A victory.

Brad had a full day planned for us (per my request). We felt it would be best if I remained productive.

While I was ordering my lunch at Chipotle, there was an employee who “knows” me who was ringing me up. Honestly, I had prayed he wouldn’t be working, because I didn’t feel like engaging with other humans. But of course, he was. He asked me how I was, and I almost auto-responded “Good,” but then my brain said, “DON’T FUCKING LIE, LAUREN.”

“Just okay, I guess,” I mumbled. “How about you?”

He said, “I have had better days.”

“I can relate to that.”

We completed the exchange, and he said, “I really hope your day gets better.”

“I hope the same for you.”

“It will,” he said, so full of certainty. While he was talking about his own day, I felt he was also making me a promise.

That exchange was so meaningful to me, because it was so honest. As humans, I think we have a real opportunity to be more vulnerable with one another, even in tiny exchanges such as that one.

After, we went to Old Time Pottery, and there were signs all over the place for Mother’s Day, and I lost it in the middle of the store. I am dreading tomorrow in ways I can’t express.

When we got home, Brad asked me if I would be open to mowing our yard, which I had never done before. At first, I said no, but then I thought about it and changed my mind. We have nearly two acres, and honestly, it was such a beautiful two hours being alone with my thoughts, my music, the beautiful weather, and my tears.

There was a lot more to the day, but I am tired of writing for now. This is my first blog since my mom died. I’ll write more tomorrow.