I’ve been holding onto what feels like a shameful secret—that even though my mom dying was and is my most painful and heartbreaking life event, after her death I was finally able to be my true self.

Do you ever feel like your parents had their own picture or idea of who you were or who they wanted you to be?

Did you try to live up to that image?

How long did you know that what they imagined or wanted wasn’t the real you?

How long did you hold it in and pretend to be something you weren’t?

Did they push you toward a certain major in college?

Did they want you to play a sport, a musical instrument, or follow in footsteps in which you knew your shoes simply wouldn’t fit?

Did they imagine your relationships or marriage or career?

Did they directly or indirectly pressure you to follow a certain path?

My mom absolutely had ideas and dreams for me, and I’ve long known what she wanted wasn’t what was in my heart. For many years I faked my life as best I could because I wanted her to be happy and proud of me. I was scared she would disapprove of the real me and be disappointed in how her only daughter turned out.

My mom‘s death started a ripple effect of new little deaths in me, as the parts of myself I’d been desperately trying to hold together and maintain faded away.

When my mother died, I was just about to turn 40 and was completely miserable in my career. I had almost two decades invested in trying to be the ideal partner and wife, even though I had long been feeling invisible in my marriage. I spent over a decade thinking I truly didn’t matter as a person but I tried to keep up the facade of being content with my life—patching myself up to be presentable when people were looking but internally crumbling and emotionally breaking when nobody was watching.

I was building my life like a kid with a sandcastle just before the tide comes in— as much as I tried to hold it together, the water slowly crept in until the walls cracked and crumbled into the waves.

I often talk to my mom out loud about these feelings and where I find myself today. I’m sorry mom, but this is the real me. This is who I am. I’m excited for it. Please help me do this. Please help me find my way.

When my mother was alive I feared losing her, but now that she’s gone I’m no longer afraid. I can live. Authentically. Her death took away my fear, which feels like an awful betrayal at best, but also makes me strangely hopeful for the future, because maybe joy still exists and is possible to find.

If you’ve lost a parent, are you able to fully be yourself now? Can you live authentically or does it still feel like someone will see what you’re doing, that your secret will be known, and you’ll be judged for it? Do you feel free and finally able to be who you truly are?

I hope my mom still loves me even though I didn’t turn out the way she hoped. I’m embarrassed and ashamed to admit that her death freed me, that it gave me something good, as bad as the sounds. I can be myself now.

I wish it didn’t take losing her for me to be honest with her. Yet I can’t help but think if only she could reply to this blog post, she’d say, “Yes, baby girl, go for it. Live!”

The same goes for you, dear grieving friend. We are going to do great things. It’s time we start dreaming and doing. Dream little and dream big, because the best days are ahead of us.