THE WEIGHT OF LIFE
Chenise Sinclaire photographed by Celeste Shiels
Every time I am going through a rough time, I just think, “This is it. I don’t see how things are ever going to be better. I can’t imagine being happy again, this is horrible! I’m always going to feel this way.” and then without noticing, a day goes by. And another one. And then it’s a week, two weeks, three weeks. They turn into months, months turn into years and then I stop and think, “I don’t feel that way anymore.”
The memories of the pain and hardship are still there, but they don't hurt as deeply as they did before and I’ll happily say, “I made it!”
Then another bad thing happens. I think, “Nope. This is it. This time I know I’m not going to make it out of this.” And then I do. The same cycle happens again. You take things day by day when you can’t see far ahead. You just focus on the little steps in front of you, like a stairway in a cloud. You can’t see the top, you can’t possibly imagine how much further you have to climb. So you just focus on the few steps ahead of you that you can see and you just breathe.
I think back to all of the awful and painful times I’ve been through already and I remind myself, “What I went through before, I got through it.” And I have to keep believing that I will also get through each new challenge and setback to come.
Whatever I go through, I get through.
Fear is this funny thing. It makes us worry about all of the things that could go horribly wrong and it can also make us worry about all of the things that could go incredibly right.
What if it goes bad?
What if it turns out good? They’re both still scary (to me at least.)
What will I have to sacrifice for the good?
What’s going to change that I will miss?
What if I lose someone I love within that time?
It chews me up some days and on those days I feel helplessly out of control.
I have my cutlery draw organised in such a particular order; my dessert spoons and table spoons face opposite directions. My towels are all folded the same way (differently to my beach towels of course - Monica Geller who?) and in colour order in my linen cupboard. The way I stack the dishwasher has to be done a particular way or else I can’t fall asleep that night.
These are all things that I have tried to gain some sense of control over because I know that quite literally everywhere else in my life, I can’t control a thing.
All I can control is myself and how I react to those things.
It’s terrifying to me that one day, everyone I know will be gone. On days like that I cry about everyone I love. I’ll send them messages about how much I miss and love them out of the blue. Just reminding them, just in case.
I can’t picture my life without the people I love dearly. I know one day my grandmother will be gone, and she raised me like a parent. I lost my grandfather in 2019. He was the first family member I had ever lost and he lived with me from the ages five to 17. That was really hard and some days it still is. As time goes on I wish I asked him more. I wish I listened more, I wish I visited more. And as more time goes on, I think of him in happiness because I know he’s still around me but I wish I could speak to him one last time. My daughter was born in 2021 and I just know he would have adored her.
And that’s the funny thing about life. You lose some people, you let others go that aren’t good for you, but then slowly but surely, new ones come in and you feel love in other ways.
You create a different way of living and a different life.
You don’t really move on from losing or letting go of people you love, you just learn to live differently.
Grief is just unexpressed love.
“Grief, I’ve learned, is really just love. It’s all the love you want to give, but cannot. All that unspent love gathers up in the corner of your eyes, the lump in your throat, and in the hollow part of your chest. Grief is just love with no place to go.”
- Jamie Anderson.
When I close my eyes, I can still recall speaking at my Pepere’s funeral (French for Grandfather.) I remember crying while reading to the rest of our family that he will miss out on so much. He’ll never get to see me marry, or meet my future children, or see me turn into a grown woman. I remember re-reading our last messages, screenshotting our last phone call and finding every photo I could of him to make sure I never forget how he looked.
And when I open my eyes, it’s been five years. I am now a mother to a beautiful two year old little girl who reminds me so much of me. Who loves to build fairy gardens and pop bubbles in our backyard with our family dog.
Life is good.
I am okay.
I will always be okay.
I have to believe it, because I refuse to live a life spent in misery and sadness.
I refuse to believe that the hard times that come, will always stay that way.
I have to go through the things I do, to become stronger and wiser and braver.
I guess that is the beautiful gift of the weight of life.
All my love,
Chenise Sinclaire.
