Real strength looks like tears, creativity, and fierce love.

Dedicated to my mentor, who sees the superhero in me even when I feel more like a puddle than a cape.

Hey beautiful souls,

So here's the thing nobody tells you about grief: it doesn't come with a manual, a timeline, or a cute little cape. But according to my mentor (who always sees me clearer than I see myself), I'm apparently a "Grief SuperHero." And honestly? The more I sit with that title, the more I realize she's onto something profound.

The Superpower You Didn't Know You Had

When my mentor first called me a Grief SuperHero, I laughed. Me? The woman who sometimes cries into her morning coffee because she misses her mom's voice? The one who buys art supplies like they're medicine (because honestly, they kind of are)? The one who some days feels like she's barely keeping it together while raising a three-year-old who asks when Yaya (Grandma) is coming back?

But then she broke it down for me, and y'all, it was 🤯...

She said I was rocking it because I was actually DEALING with my grief instead of pretending it didn't exist. Because I was giving myself permission to feel all the feelings, to create through the pain, to honor what my healing actually needed. And that? That's some superhero-level courage right there.

The Grief That Teaches Us to Fly

Here's what I'm learning: grief isn't the villain in our story. It's actually the thing that teaches us we're capable of loving so deeply that loss literally reshapes us. It's the thing that shows us we can hold joy and sorrow in the same breath, create beauty from brokenness, and find strength we never knew we possessed.

My mom lived with my daughter and me for the last two years of her life. Every morning, we'd sit together over breakfast, just talking about everything and nothing. She'd sip her lemonade or coffee on the patio or in my living room, while I read to her, told her my dreams, fears, and hopes...both of us soaking up those golden moments that felt infinite but weren't. She knew my moods before I could name them, knew exactly when I needed one of her legendary hugs.

When she took her last breath, I thought my world had ended. But what I discovered instead was that all that love, all those moments, all that care I poured into her? It didn't disappear. It transformed me into someone who knows how to love fiercely, grieve authentically, and create meaning from the deepest pain.

That's superhero territory, friend.

Your Grief Superpowers (Yes, You Have Them)

Maybe you're reading this thinking, "But I don't feel like a superhero. I feel broken." I hear you. I see you. And I want you to know that feeling broken and being a superhero aren't mutually exclusive. In fact, I think our cracks are exactly where the light gets in.

Here are some grief superpowers you might not recognize in yourself:

The Power of Deep Feeling: While others run from emotions, you've learned to sit with them, to let them move through you without drowning you. That's not weakness; that's mastery.

The Gift of Presence: You know what it means to show up for pain, yours and others'. You can hold space for the messiness of being human because you've been there yourself.

Creative Alchemy: Whether it's through writing, painting, cooking, or just the way you arrange flowers, you've learned to transform pain into something beautiful. That's literal magic.

Authentic Connection: You can't fake your way through small talk anymore, can you? Loss has taught you to cut through the noise and connect with what's real. People feel that authenticity in you.

Resilience in Action: You're still here. You're still creating, still loving, still showing up. That's not surviving; that's thriving with intention.

Permission to Grieve Like a Superhero

My mentor reminded me of something beautiful: even Jesus depended totally on God. If the Son of God needed support, why do we think we should have it all figured out? There's no shame in needing time, space, art supplies, chocolate, or whatever your grief requires to move through you.

Your grief is not a burden you carry; it's love with nowhere to go. And when you give it permission to flow through creativity, through tears, through whatever form it needs, you're not just healing yourself. You're modeling for others that it's safe to feel deeply in a world that often demands we stay surface-level.

The Ripple Effect of Your Healing

Here's the thing about being a Grief SuperHero: your healing doesn't just benefit you. Every time you choose to feel instead of numb, create instead of hide, show up instead of shut down, you're giving someone else permission to do the same.

That blog post you write through your tears? Someone needs to read it. That painting you create while missing your person? Someone needs to see that grief can be beautiful. That vulnerable conversation you have with a friend? Someone needs to know they're not alone in their pain.

Your willingness to grieve authentically is literally changing the world, one healed heart at a time.

Embracing Your Cape (Even When It's Wrinkled)

So maybe your cape is wrinkled. Maybe it's tear-stained or covered in glitter from your toddler's latest art project. Maybe some days you forget you're wearing it at all. That's okay. Superheroes aren't perfect; they're just willing to keep showing up, keep believing in something bigger than their pain, keep choosing love even when loss feels louder.

You're allowed to grieve messily. You're allowed to need space and time and grace. You're allowed to have days when you feel more human than hero. But please, please don't forget: you're also allowed to recognize the extraordinary strength it takes to love deeply, lose greatly, and keep your heart open anyway.

That's not just superhero behavior. That's Grief SuperHero level mastery.

Your Grief SuperHero Toolkit

If you're ready to embrace your inner Grief SuperHero, here are some tools for your cape-wearing journey:

Create something daily: Whether it's a journal entry, a sketch, or just arranging your space with intention, let your hands process what your heart can't always say.

Honor your rhythms: Some days you'll soar, others you'll need to rest. Both are part of your superpower.

Find your grief tribe: Connect with others who understand that healing isn't linear and love doesn't end with death.

Practice radical self-compassion: Talk to yourself the way you'd talk to your best friend going through loss.

Trust the process: Your grief is teaching you something. Stay curious about what it wants you to know.

A Love Letter to Fellow Grief SuperHeroes

To anyone reading this who's walking the path of loss: I see you. I see your strength disguised as vulnerability. I see your love disguised as sorrow. I see your superpowers disguised as ordinary human responses to extraordinary loss.

You're not broken. You're not too much. You're not falling behind some imaginary timeline of healing. You're exactly where you need to be, feeling exactly what you need to feel, learning exactly what your heart needs to know.

Keep creating. Keep feeling. Keep showing up. Keep being the Grief SuperHero you were born to be.

The world needs what you're becoming.

With love and recognition for the superhero in you,

Love ❤️ ItsTechNicole 🦩

P.S. My daughter told me to tell you that glitter makes everything more magical, including grief. And honestly? She might be onto something.

Want to dive deeper into creating meaning from your grief journey? Check out my podcast where I share more stories, strategies, and real talk about healing, creativity, and finding your way through loss. 

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