“Create a safe space within yourself that no one will ever find, somewhere the madness of this world can never touch.” ~Christy Ann Martine
Losing my grandmother was like losing the one person who had always been my anchor. She was my steady rock, my quiet cheerleader, and the only person who truly made me feel that I was perfectly fine, just as I was. I never had to pretend around her or hide my mistakes or messiness.
She had this way of being present and calm, even when life around us wasn’t, and that gave me a sense of security that, looking back, I had leaned on more than I ever realized.
Her gentle spirit taught me what unconditional love looked and felt like, and without fully realizing it, I relied on her presence to keep me grounded and to make sense of things when everything else felt uncertain.
In my eulogy to her at her funeral, I called her “The Mary Poppins of Grandmas, practically perfect in every way.” And she was perfect in my eyes; she always will be.
When she passed, I felt an incredible emptiness; upon receiving the news, I fell to the floor. I was alone, I couldn’t muster up the strength to lift myself from the floor, and I was crying so hard I started choking. I crawled to the bathroom, thinking I was going to throw up. I was leaning up against the bathtub, sobbing, when a strange sense of peace came over me.
I started to calm down, and the song “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” popped into my head, creating an earworm repeatedly playing the song. I got up from the bathroom floor, grabbed my phone, and posted a video of the song on my social media profile. I found out later that day that that song was my grandma’s favorite.
It felt like I’d lost not just her but a part of myself—something I had unknowingly depended on for so long. Her love was a mirror that allowed me to see my worth; I wasn’t sure how to recognize it without her. The grief of her loss was profound, but underneath that grief, I knew something else was stirring. I needed to find the consistency she had provided, but this time, it had to come from within.
My journey toward healing began with the understanding that if I wanted to feel whole, I had to become that steady, loving presence for myself.
For so long, I had looked to others for validation, believing that if I gave enough, worked hard, and stayed flexible, I’d finally receive the desperately desired acceptance. But when she was gone, something clicked—I realized no one else could fill that space in my life. It was up to me to find that security within.
In the beginning, it felt like too much to take on. I faced layers of emotions and beliefs that had been there for as long as I could remember, and the thought of working through all of it was intimidating.
I saw how often I had tied my sense of worth to what I could offer others, how I felt I needed to prove myself through giving, and how I had relied on external reassurance instead of my inner validation. I had learned to take on the role of the fixer, the supporter, and the giver, often without realizing that I had neglected to support and care for myself.
With time, I began to understand that, like my grandmother, I needed to cultivate a constant, gentle presence within me that I could turn to, no matter what. I needed to become my safe place, someone I could rely on for kindness and encouragement.
One of the first steps was creating rituals that mirrored the warmth and steadiness she had always provided me. I would sit quietly each morning, meditating on gratitude and journaling about my worth before I began my day. These small, intentional acts became a way to ground myself, check in, and create a sense of stability in my life.
I wasn’t naturally good at setting boundaries—I would get an anxious feeling in my stomach when it came to saying no. I was always worried that if I said no, the other person would stop coming around, or I would hurt their feelings, and I would guilt myself.
Eventually, I reached a point where I knew I had to change things. I was allowing myself to be taken advantage of repeatedly. It went into a pattern of me giving too much, then resenting the other person or people involved and not realizing that the problem was me.
If I didn’t start respecting my limits, I’d have nothing left to give. Little by little, I practiced saying no without offering a reason or apologizing. It wasn’t easy. It felt foreign at first, like I was somehow selfish for doing it. But with each boundary, I began to feel a new sense of inner strength that I hadn’t felt before. It was like I was finally treating myself with the same kindness I tried to give everyone else.
Learning to sit with my emotions instead of running from them was the most challenging part. I understood that grief wasn’t something you just “get over.” It’s something you learn to live with. I stopped pushing away the sadness and let myself fully feel it, allowing it to come and go without judgment.
There were times when it felt overwhelming, but it was also healing. In those moments, I felt almost as if she was still with me, her presence comforting me as if saying, “It’s okay to feel this. It’s okay to let yourself grieve.”
Through this, I began rediscovering parts of myself I had set aside. I allowed myself to get creative again, expressing things I’d bottled up without worrying about how it would come across. I started journaling daily, writing about my dreams, fears, and memories. These weren’t just words on a page—they were my way of healing, piece by piece, as I found my way back to feeling whole again.
As time went on, I began to notice a shift. I felt a growing sense of worth that wasn’t based on anyone’s approval. I didn’t feel the same need to prove myself. I slowly accepted my flaws, realizing self-love doesn’t mean perfection. It means patience and the willingness to keep showing up for myself, especially on the tough days.
My grandmother’s passing taught me one of the biggest lessons of my life: I could be my safe place. I could build a life where I feel valued and loved from within without relying on anyone else to create that for me.
Of course, there are still days when I slip back into old habits, looking for validation outside myself, but now I know I have everything I need inside. Her memory stays with me as a reminder of strength and love—two things she taught me through how she lived.
For anyone struggling to find that sense of inner peace, I hope sharing my story shows you it’s within reach. It’s a journey; it takes time, patience, consistency, and commitment, but it’s worth it. Otherwise, you will never gain the sense of peace you deserve. In doing this, I’ve found a calm and self-assurance I never imagined. And I believe that’s something my grandmother would be proud of.
About Brandilyn Hallcroft
Brandilyn Hallcroft is a designer, writer, marketer, and the founder of Journals to Healing, where she creates self-help journals that guide readers through personal growth. With a deep commitment to emotional well-being, she shares her journey to inspire others on their path to healing. Connect with her at journalstohealing.com.