We’ve made it to the two year mark and proof of this is the fact that my iPhone now automatically capitalizes TDY.
Two years ago today, I woke up early and headed to a coffee date that in my mind kickstarted TDY’s first full day in this world. For months after I started TDY, I was the only one writing on it and the only one sharing my grief. If you go back enough in the archives you’ll find the choppiness in the sentences and you can see how much I was just reaching for someone to say, “me too, this is me too.”
Then you did. You started talking back.
At times it’s been easier for me to answer than at others. These last few months my mental health has been harder to manage and so as a result it took the front seat for a while and TDY took the back. In those times I’m really grateful for you all for understanding why emails haven’t gotten answered; for Holly, Cait, and the rest of our writers who help keep TDY afloat with how much they care.
I have big hopes for TDY and its mission. I think we’re making really awesome strides in breaking down the taboo around grief.
But from a partially selfish perspective, I want to thank you all. The truth is that TDY saved me. I have it, and you, to thank for where I am right now. I wouldn’t have made therapy as much of a priority if it weren’t for you. I would be less brave if it weren’t for you.
You make me brave everyday, but I especially saw it during Mother’s Day this year. It hit me very hard, and even in those feelings, you made me brave. I sent out an email to a handful of friends asking them to ask me things about my mom and grandma. I was brave enough to try and have a conversation with a new friend about why talking about my mom, grandma and the significance behind Mother’s Day was important to me; it didn’t go the way I’d planned, but if it weren’t for you I wouldn’t have even tried.
I take away so much from your bravery and your self-acceptance. You all teache me how to be a better me.
Please know that even if it takes us a while to get back to emails, we always do and it’s usually really long ones from me. I don’t take for granted that you decide to share your stories with us.
Because that’s what they are, right? They’re stories. They’re not to automatically be deemed “sad stories” or “stories of loss” because in a lot of cases the stories are funny, and unapologetic, and so incredibly badass.
Two years of something I started while sitting in my living room couch and sitting in my own pain, it’s probably the most surreal blessing I’ll ever live through.
Thank you for helping me live out Too Damn Young’s mission. Thank you for making this less about me and more about all the ways that grieving plays out and all the voices that contribute to that narrative.
Thank you for coming back to us time and time again. Thank you for then deciding to pay it forward.
