On grief, again

Hey Tribe,

So, I haven’t really talked about this at all since it happened. If I’m being honest, I’ve just been trying to put it out of my mind and not think about it at all, or at least as little as I can. I know that’s probably part of the problem. But the alternative is just sitting with it. And that’s painful to think about.

It’s been five months since we lost my nephew. But it still feels like it happened yesterday. When I do think about it, I end up pretending it happened to somebody else. Like it’s their nightmare and not mine. But it is mine, and what’s worse is that it’s not even a nightmare at all. I was awake when it happened. And I’m still struggling to be okay. I’m still struggling to feel normal.

I think that’s the really weird part. Death is so dramatic. It makes life feel fake after. And nobody warns you about that. But it’s sometimes like you aren’t actually in your body anymore, you know? Like you’re just playing the role of yourself and going through your day pretending to be fine in this movie about your life. Because life does go on, and everybody expects you to go on, too. There are people counting on you. There are bills to pay. There are dreams to work at.

Earlier this month, I decided to take a week off. Sort of. It’s not something I do very often, and even when I do, I’m never really clocked out. It’s like taking a nap instead of sleeping through the night. I still have to work. I still have calls to take. There are things I really can’t miss. But the thing is, when I’m not busy, I have time to think about things.

And that’s dangerous when you’re avoiding something—especially when you’ve been dealing with your grief by ignoring it. I’ve been trying to act like it isn’t there at all. But that’s not the same thing as actually grieving. It’s cheating. It’s just pushing all the shit under the table and throwing a tablecloth on top, then setting the table and throwing a dinner party for your friends.

Because you know that underneath the gorgeous food and the beautiful dishes and the shiny silverware and the cotton tablecloth, no matter how perfect it all is, that there’s this mess piling up underneath. And anyone could see it if they just lifted the cloth up and looked! So you distract them and hope they don’t ask. And they don’t, because you keep saying everything is all fine.

I think that’s what I’ve been doing. I came back to work too fast. But what else could I do? Take off for months to put myself back together? I’ve built this huge business from nothing at all. And to keep it running this way means I have to work at a certain pace and level, sometimes at the expense of rest. I can’t step away for too long, because then who’s going to take care of things? Who’s going to be me, if not me? The idea of losing my life’s work terrifies me. It’s just not realistic for me to close up until I feel better. I’m really struggling with that.

And I think it’s all led me to wonder about whether I’m really happy, or if I’m just pretending to be happy because that’s what you’re supposed to do. You’re supposed to be sad for a little and then be yourself again. You’re not supposed to feel bad for too long. Now I’m wondering if I threw myself into my work because I was trying to escape this stuff I didn’t want to confront.

Now, I’m in this weird place. There’s so much in my life I should be celebrating. The Hollywood Reporter named me Stylist of the Year for the second year in a row. I just became a contributing editor at British Vogue. I’m at the top of my game, doing some of the best work I’ve done my whole career. But there’s always this thing in the background trying to get me to look at it. It’s hard.

I didn’t have the courage to admit any of this before now. i But I thought, maybe writing about it again can be part of the grieving. I hope that’s alright. And I hope you’re all alright. I never knew what it was like to feel depressed until this happened, and I think now I understand a little better. I know this cloud will go away eventually. I just hope it goes sooner than later.

With Love,

Law xxxx