Forever Bentley: A Mother's Journey Through Grief

I’m starting over. And this time, I’m not ashamed of it.

I’ve always had anxiety.

Even before grief. Even before loss. Even before life got heavy.

It’s been there in different seasons of my life. Sometimes quiet. Sometimes loud. Sometimes paired with depression that made everything feel dull and hard and heavier than it should have been.

A while ago, I was on medication.

And when things started to feel a little more manageable… I convinced myself I didn’t need it anymore.

I thought I could tough it out.

I thought I could handle it on my own.

I thought being “strong” meant not needing help.

The reality is… I can’t.

And that’s something I’ve had to be honest with myself about.

Because grief changed my anxiety.

It made it louder.

Sharper.

Bigger.

Now it doesn’t just whisper. It shows up in panic. In racing thoughts. In my chest tightening for no reason. In the overwhelming feeling that something is wrong even when everything is technically okay.

I wouldn’t say I’m depressed right now… but there are days I don’t want to get out of bed. Days where everything feels like too much. Days where just existing takes more energy than I have.

But the anxiety… she’s big.

And the panic attacks… they’re even bigger.

And I’ve realized something.

Mental health isn’t something you just “push through.”

It’s not something you ignore.

It’s not something you fix by being strong.

Sometimes strength looks like admitting you need help.

Talking to people who care.

Listening to the ones who tell you what you need to hear, not just what you want to hear.

Letting someone in when you’d rather shut the world out.

And sometimes… help looks like a pill.

There’s so much stigma around that.

Like needing medication means you failed.

Like you didn’t try hard enough.

Like you should be able to do this on your own.

But sometimes… you can’t.

And that’s okay.

So I’m restarting my Trintellix.

Not because I’m weak.

But because I want to be better.

For me.

For my husband.

For my family so they don’t have to constantly wonder if I’m okay.

And even for Bentley.

Because I know he wouldn’t want me drowning in anxiety.

I know he’d want me to find moments of happiness when I can.

I know he’d want me to keep going… even when it’s hard.

This isn’t me giving up.

This is me fighting.

This is me choosing support.

Choosing healing.

Choosing to take a step forward instead of staying stuck.

And if you’re reading this and you’re struggling…

Whether it’s grief, anxiety, depression, trauma, postpartum, life stress, or something you can’t even explain…

It’s okay to ask for help.

It’s okay to talk to someone.

It’s okay to need support.

It’s okay to take medication.

It’s okay to not do this alone.

You don’t have to hit rock bottom to deserve help.

You don’t have to be completely broken to start healing.

You don’t have to suffer in silence to prove you’re strong.

Sometimes the bravest thing you can do…

is take the first step toward feeling better.

And today, this is mine.