Vulnerable Hours #202
The Vulnerable Hours Returns— For Now
While our relaunch is still set for April, we’re sending an update via The Vulnerable Hours bonus edition. Today’s essay is about re-adjusting to life through grief. We’re happy to have you; get into it below.
I feel stuck at the crossroads of whom I used to be, pre-pandemic, and whom I’ve become now. As imposter syndrome swiftly knocked me down last summer, I allowed myself to drown in the chaos of my personal life around me. Some personal issues I wrote about as others I kept close to my chest due to personal guilt; also privacy. Yet as horribly manic and tiresome as that time was, perspective and personal growth have brought me here, no longer wallowing in misery or feeling overwhelmed that kept me living in constant regret.
It’s no use going back to yesterday because I was a different person then. ― Lewis Carroll, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland/Through the Looking Glass.
This muddled paradox previously summed me up, growing at times while shrinking myself down to size for others’ sake; it’s no wonder why my above forever favorite from childhood always resonated— even now. Despite recently learning that others perceive me as strong and somehow fearless. I often feel like a kid cosplaying as an adult while friends and family continue to celebrate life milestones around me. The power in bringing The Vulnerable Hours to life helped find beauty through the paradoxical pain. However, with the recent devastating loss of my Abuelo, grieving for someone seems to selfishly never let up around me.
In my continuing state of bereavement, I’ve learned that closure isn’t always tangible, nor is it given by anyone except ourselves if we’re fortunate. Having experienced this the hard way, I still don’t have or know all the answers I desire. Taking back control meant moving on and forward regardless of the unknown and allowing myself to go through the motions of grieving such losses. Channeling any inner strength during this particular time has been difficult because of how close I was with my Abuelo; I’ve been his caretaker since I was still in high school, a huge responsibility that I took on at seventeen years old. Yet as hard and overwhelming as some days are, especially previously juggling working and college, I don’t regret my decision. Sacrificing any personal dreams or interests for the sake of helping my grandparents helped shape me as a person— I got more time with the heart of my family.
They were like my version of aunt May and uncle Ben; they were the emotional support system my parents couldn’t always offer. Their house was safe when mine wasn’t; it was always open with extended kindness and an inability to leave with hunger, as in most Latinx/e/a households. They were always there, never judging; my abuelos were the kind of people with hearts of 24k gold that would help anyone. They’d even spare some cash for the road. My abuelos helped mold my jaded family into caring and emotionally responsible people— and we know that with great responsibility also comes great power; this particular power comes when we need it most and expect it the least. Yet, no matter how my Spidey sense (otherwise referred to as my anxiety/intuition that makes my stomach flip) warned me for most life experiences— nothing prepared me for the surprising passing of my healthy 92-year-old-grandfather.
In an ironic twist, my grandpa was given the all-clear by his longtime physician to discontinue most of his medications right before his passing. His health vastly improved— his physicality and confidence also improved. Especially considering he suffered from a broken hip last year, thanks to the help of physical therapy, which was recently reevaluated to continue only because he felt more reassured. Ergo, last Monday’s grief hit me unexpectedly.
Waking up to find another person in my life gone was almost too much— remorse had its firm grasp on me as the timeline of events stupefied me. How quickly it unfolded and how I wasn’t there induced a panic attack after paramedics came and went. Fixating on trying to make sense of things devastated me more since I didn’t have answers— no matter my over rationalizing or overthinking. With the help of therapy, my wasted reason for trying to find closure no longer matters. I’ll never have the response I crave; therefore, I let go of trying to resolve this never-ending Rubik’s cube.
Mindfulness, therapy, and channeling my dear Abuelo’s life’s mantra helped me shift my focus to take control back of myself. Those who know me personally know how much I admired my grandparents and what they mean to me. However, my Abuelo’s inability to give up was particularly inspiring.
Undeterred by his age, my Abuelo never gave up. Through multiple soul-crushing and life-ending moments— he never gave up and was a fighter until the end. I witnessed all the times my Abuelo had to restart or rebuild— he always pushed himself to keep going even when he couldn’t any longer. His inability to give up is the kind of energy I hope to channel as Youthquake relaunches— as the initial attempt last month wasn’t quite the liftoff we expected. Life’s growing pains often cause us to crumble as setbacks are bound to happen; the good and bad days will fluctuate, as will moods. Some days we’re strong and formidable— others, we’re withdrawn or meek; we’re all imperfect and trying. Yet as life continues— it’s finding strength in the emotional fragility of life’s constant state of flux with peaks and depths every exhaustive time. That way, our collective pain turns into healing and our turmoil into peace to find what makes us happy during this berserkly and often simulative time.
Lately, I’ve been (re)watching many films with an obvious theme— a woman that chooses herself and a journey of self-discovery. Happy Women’s History Month, even coming from an oppressive state like Texas.
The Worst Person in the World
August: Osage County
The Devil Wears Prada
Under the Tuscan Sun
Alice in Wonderland
Happy-Go-Lucky
First Wives Club
Girl, Interrupted
Mona Lisa Smile
Erin Brockovich
Practical Magic
The Farewell
Legally Blonde
An Education
Frances Ha
This brief comeback is my attempt at getting into the swing of things. This particular edition of The Vulnerable Hours allowed me to face my emotions and helped more than expected. I appreciate every special reader that permits me to write about my experience and for those that have reached out with your touching messages.
If you like this kind of Youthquake feature, it’ll be exclusive for paying subscribers ONLY— starting next month.
Con amor,
Naomi
P. S. You can now read Youthquake in the new Substack app for iPhone.
With the app, you’ll have a dedicated Inbox for my Substack and any other Substack subscriptions. New posts won’t get lost through email filters or stuck in spam with the app. Nor will longer posts be cut off via email app. Overall, it’s an added upgrade to your reading experience.
📢 The Substack app is currently available for iOS only, for now— but you can join the Android waitlist HERE.
