All Wrapped Up In My Grief

I haven’t written as much as I’d like recently. I’ve been all up in my feels. I try to look at the bright side, which is that I have worked hard to be capable of feeling this deeply. I have worked for years to access this grief, and to embrace all its faces. It is still difficult to do this work.

Grief has taken up so much of my time, attention, and energy recently. The day-to-day goings-on are a primary source of grief for me. Chores and meal times and getting ready for bed remind me of the caregiver I lost. Walking each step and tending to my body’s needs reminds me of my journey through chronic illness. Budgeting and projecting meeting my needs reminds me of poverty and desperation and need. These are reminders pointing towards gratitude for this moment, but they are also reminders of deep losses, searing pains, and the worst days of my life.

I did not grieve my caregiver when she passed. I moved on and shut the door behind me, as I always did. The grief lived inside me, and I could not see the festering wound taking me over. Now, more than a decade later as I learn to access my emotions and my grief, the intensity of these feelings seems to only grow stronger. I miss her more with each passing day. I cherish the moments we connected deeply. I lament the moments I failed to be present with her. I yearn for her touch, her scent, and now, sometimes I dream of them. Her guidance and encouragement are still with me. I feel her with me always.

There was no time to grieve when my chronic illnesses flared. I lost my mobility overnight, and gained a laundry list of symptoms I would learn the names of over months and years. My world changed in an instant, and my only choices were to give up or move forward. I chose to survive. I fought to survive. Some of my closest family and friends struggled to comprehend the changes I had no choice but to face. Those people let me down. They stopped listening, refused to show up for me, and some of them never changed. Yes, I grieve my past life, my freedom of mobility and all the privileges of an able bodied lifestyle. But honestly, learning to manage my chronic illnesses has actually improved my overall health and wellness. I may be limited by disability, but after getting minimum supports I am also physically, mentally, and emotionally stronger than I have ever been.

The greatest losses I continue to grieve due to the onset of my illnesses are the relationships damaged or severed when others’ could not meet me where I’m at. Some praised me for being ill, so afraid of fatness they'd rather their loved ones suffer from disease. Some chastised me for my sinful lifestyle, convinced my queerness and heathenry had drawn God's wrath. Others simply didn't believe me, making assumptions about my limitations and the solutions to them without my input. Each one of these responses were betrayal, disrespect, and disregard for my well being. I forgive them all, but there are some I won't let back into my life.

During this period of intense suffering and loss, I was also plunged deeper beneath the poverty line. After paying rent and bills, there was barely enough money for food and medications. While rapidly losing weight due to physical symptoms, I knew my inability to afford nutritious food played a large role in my digestive issues. While unable to leave my bed, crawling to the bathroom when necessary, I knew my inability to afford a mobility aid contributed to my isolation and worsening mental health. While suffering from heat intolerance, unable to sleep or eat or defecate, I knew my inability to afford an air conditioner meant my illnesses would continue intensifying.

I knew desperation. I met her years before, but for months we laid in that bed together and only knew each other. I didn’t know if I would make it out alive. I needed money for my basic needs. I needed someone to bring me groceries, cook for me, clean my home, and take me outside. I needed climate control, a supportive bed, and a home free of mildew. I didn't get most of these things, but with what I scraped together I survived. I survived and now everywhere I go I see hungry people, neglected people, shelterless people, desperate people. And I grieve for us all.

These are the themes, the stories, the feelings, that swirl around me, in my mind and in my body. I feel grateful to be experiencing so much stability and wellness to feel able to hold these deep and difficult emotions. I understand what a privilege it is to have the space to hold my grief, to feel safety and comfort are nearby. It is a privilege I have not had for long, and do not plan to take for granted. These are the reasons I work to be better; To make my caregiver proud, to build myself a good life, to help those in desperation find peace. This is the purpose of my grief.