Thursday, October 28, 2021

Freedom to Grieve

Freedom is a word that resonates deeply with me, and I'd planned to write a very different post this month. 

I'm a digital nomad, which means I travel and work from wherever I lay my hat. I love that freedom to roam. Freedom to change my surrounding. Freedom to explore. Freedom to embrace new experiences.

Freedom represents joy. It's my happy place... but ... with the recent death of my Mum, freedom has taken on a new slant. Instead of looking outwards, at what traveling can add to my life, I'm looking inwards at what is missing from it.

Grief is Personal

Everyone grieves differently. That's what friends, family, and the experts say. There's no one-size fits all. There's no normal way to grieve.

There's no timetable for grief. I've got my ticket for the grief train—but I don't know how long this journey will last.

How Long Does Grief Last?

My grief is still fresh, but unfortunately it doesn't have an Best Before date. 

Wouldn't it be great if grief expired? Then you could just throw it away when it started to smell bad or grow whiskers!

Grief Milestones

It was my birthday this month. The first milestone I experienced in a year of firsts. 

When I'm asked my age, I usually have to calculate the years to figure it out. It's an unimportant number I don't have to hand. But this year was special. It was the first birthday without a mum. The tight grip I'd had on my emotions disintegrated. I slipped into a black hole of grief that knew no bounds.

To be honest, it's been a few years since my Mum was aware enough to celebrate my birthday, and more recently, her dementia caused her to forgot she even had a daughter. But rather than lament the loss of this annual tradition, I used my birthday as an opportunity to create a new tradition. I'd give her a birthday card and present, and thank her for being my Mum. After all, she's the one who did all the hard work back then. She deserved a special celebration. 

This year, she wasn't there to thank, and it was the beginning of a new solo tradition. This caused such a huge tidal wave of grief, I thought I was going to drown.

Will I ever be able to ride that big wave of grief?

Now all I can think about are the future milestones lying in wait to ambush me. I hope they're easier to manage than this first one.

The Birth of Sylvie Sunshine

Part of how I'm managing my grief is through creative exploits. I've been obsessed with watercolour, and on the days when I feel motivated enough to get off the sofa and open the curtains, all I want to do is sit at my art table to sketch and paint.

One morning at 3am I started doodling. I have no idea why, or where it came from. It was a mindless activity. I was in the zone. I didn't know where my ideas were heading, or why I was doodling. But by the end of my sketching session I'd created a character.

Sylvie Sunshine is born

Over the next few days I kept reviewing this sketchbook page. I was strangely drawn to her. I had no idea why I'd given her a Christmas Pudding tummy and dressed her in a bikini—but I just felt she was here to help me.

By the end of the week, I'd developed my doodles into a comic strip idea called "Life's a Beach (until it's a Bitch)", and dubbed my character Sylvie Sunshine. Suddenly the bikini made sense, and she became part of the family. She was here to navigate me out of that black hole, and lead be back into the sunshine.

I'm fine in here!

I have a close affinity to Sylvie Sunshine. My Mum's name was Sylvia and she used to call me her little Sunshine. So those two halves have culminated into a new whole. I also like the play on words and it's similarity to that well-known term Susie Sunshine. Plus the irony that Sylvie is anything but a little ray of sunshine.

I've sketched many scenarios based on my first-hand experience with grief, and some of them have that interesting dynamic of being funny and sad at the same time. 

I've learnt that joy and sadness can co-exist, and Sylvie is here to help rebalance the ratio between both ends of that spectrum.

One Day at a Time

You can follow Sylvie Sunshine on Instagram.


About Jay Artale


Jay Artale
 abandoned her corporate career to become a digital nomad and full-time writer. 
She’s an avid blogger, podcaster, and nonfiction author helping travel writers and travel bloggers achieve their self-publishing goals. She shares tips, advice, and inspiration to writers with an independent spirit at her website Birds of a Feather Press, and documents her travels and artistic endeavours at her blog Roving Jay. Follow her on Instagram or Facebook or Twitter.

Jay is the author of A Turbulent Mind: A Poetry Collection of a Mother's Journey with Alzheimer's.

4 comments:

Judith Ashley said...

Jay, Thank you for sharing your journey with us. There is no "one size fits all" path through grief and it really is one day at a time. Next March my mom will have been gone 20 years and my dad 24 and my brother 18 and there are still times when I stop and wish they were here so I could share a thought or experience with one of them. Love that you have Sylvie Sunshine to share this journey with you.

Sarah Raplee said...

Sylvie Sunshine is wonderful! I lost my Mom three years ago. Your cartoons resonate with my experience. I hope you keep the comic strip going and continue to share Sylvie's journey with us.

Sarah Raplee said...

Also, I love your comic strip title!!!

Maggie Lynch said...

Jay, I am so happy that Sylvie Sunshine came into your consciousness. I very much loved your book A Turbulent Mind which shared your life with your mother and dementia. It spoke to me on a deep level and the drawings were a big part of that.

I hope that Sylvie Sunshine helps lead you into a place where you can experience some sunshine most of the time while helping others navigate their own grief. This line truly captures the difficulty of grief for anyone: "Wouldn't it be great if grief expired? Then you could just throw it away when it started to smell bad or grow whiskers!"

In my experience, grief is not so soft nor very sweet where it can only be swallowed once when it's fresh like a piece of fruit. And when digestion is finished, it is evacuated never to be experienced again.

Instead it is more like Egyptian Tomb Cheese. It was acidic but filling when it was fresh. It needed to be all consuming when the stomach (soul) was starving and the normal daily sustenance wasn't enough to keep the body full. But instead of leaving the body and letting it move on when fruit is again available, it sits in the stomach (heart) and goes into hiding only to come out and remind you the cheese is still there. Even if you bury it and hide it through the ages, covering it in sand so as not to be found, grief has a way of erupting in a sand storm and being uncovered by a triggered memory to remind you "I'm still here."

I believe it is a way for us not to forget. Every eruption gives us a chance to find a way to live with the memories of a loved one and make them a permanent part of life. Entire cultures have ceremonies around this remembrance (Día de los Muertos is one example) to celebrate and remember those who have passed and those who are still here.

I'm looking forward to seeing how Sylvie Sunshine finds her way through grief. I hope you do share it with the world. Your illustrations are life-giving.