ALL

The one thing no one ever tells you is how personal grief is. Coming from a black-and-white world, I found myself searching for the right way to do it as Mom's funeral approached. I was afraid of being judged—not only for her suicide, but for my unemotional state.

She was beautiful, funny, deep, complex and compassionate. And when Mom was well, my life was bursting with colour, and when she wasn't, I found myself tiptoeing around a dark house, waiting for her to reemerge again.

I grew up in a religion where you weren't allowed to leave, and you weren't allowed to do anything wrong. You also weren't allowed to lead your own life, as the church did that for you.

The truth was, I despised anger. Not that I didn't get mad myself at times, but I wasn't the type to blow-up. Instead, I was the wounded girl who cried when no one was looking, and it had stemmed from growing up in an unpredictable and somewhat volatile environment.

Aside from my sister telling me that I didn't have to get married, after I had a complete meltdown the night before the wedding, no one had suggested that maybe I should wait until I had a two in front of my age