Grief and Relationships - From a Chronic Illness Perspective
Before I start, I feel like I need to tell you that if you are clicking on this for some helpful tips if you are chronically ill and in a relationship, then I appreciate you coming here, but you might want to click away. Don't listen to me. I am not your therapist. I don't have any helpful tips for you, and my ways of approaching grief may not work for you. This is what I am feeling right now, and if you didn't come here to cry over your tea with me then I'll see you in my next post.
This is not a new idea for me. I have already been through this. I have had to adapt to how far I can walk without aids and how many things I can do in a day. I can't spontaneously go for a walk or pop out to a restaurant for dinner (if they were open) because I need to make sure there will be a place for my crutches and evaluate what medical supplies I will need to bring with me. The days of feeling fresh air on my face are gone, even without a global pandemic keeping a mask on my face. Where I was at a year ago, 6 months ago, and even 3 months ago is so different from where I am at now. It didn't happen overnight, but by the time I opened my eyes it seemed like I woke up in a completely different body. I have had to grieve my healthy body while learning to live in this new one, and I still am grieving. And so is everybody else right now, just in a different way.
Grief happens at different times for different people. While my partner grieves the death of someone in his family, I am grieving my healthy body all over again. The body that allowed me to leave the house whenever I wanted and be by his side. The body that could leave home during a pandemic despite stay at home orders. I could accept the risk that I might get sick, but it wouldn't be too bad right? Now I live in a body that might get turned away if my local hospital is out of ventilators. This body can't go to the viewing and funeral with him. This body can't spend time with his family who haven't been able to isolate. This body has to stay home and watch helplessly from the sidelines.
It took my partner a different amount of time to begin grieving my healthy body. The symptoms that started to demand attention began in October 2018. It took me a full year to come to terms with the fact that there isn't a cure for my chronic illnesses. A year of different specialists turning me away with a "I'm sorry, there's nothing I can do." A year of money spent on tests and expensive visits. A year of pain and hating the body that I ended up with. If there was a God, he wouldn't have given me this body and taken from me the things that define me.
For me it was October 2019. For him it didn't hit until March 2020. This year. Around the same time that we all went into lock down, and as he started to realize how serious it was to keep me safe. He has to grieve this death and my body at the same time. Because grief comes in waves, and as it hits me that my body is the reason I can't be with him right now, I know it is hitting him too. His family doesn't have the capacity to understand why I can't be "more supportive." I can't expect them to grieve my healthy body either at this time, and they don't know how serious things have gotten either. Despite how much of my life I share online, when it comes to the people in my life, I tend to only show myself during my healthiest moments, mostly because if I'm not feeling well then I am not able to keep social obligations.
Going through this at different times has been hard. It's made me question if chronically ill people are supposed to be in relationships. Is love meant for people like me? The doubts have a way of being louder than the reassurances you give them. I know that the best way for me to support him is to take care of myself. You can't pour something into someone else that you don't have. And it is easier to place blame externally that turn it into yourself. I know the guilt that I feel towards my conditions, but instead of breaking that down it is easier to blame this all on COVID. I would stand by his side despite any flare and in any amount of pain, but COVID is the reason I have to stay home. As much this is true, the reason I can't leave the house with him despite COVID is because of my vulnerable body.
I feel like this is a good time for a reminder that my coping mechanisms aren't really considered healthy. But if it gets me through these two weeks, then I have the rest of my life to work through this with my therapist.
As shitty as this has been, it has taught me patience. Sadly, I am no stranger to grief. My past self is not the only person I have grieved in my life. I understand that grief takes time, and I know how difficult this road has been for me to navigate on my own. At least I can support him while he rides this roller coaster too.
If you can take anything useful out of this clusterfuck of thoughts, it's this. Everybody grieves differently. Some people crave isolation, and some people crave companionship. Some people need to stay busy mentally, and some people need to deep clean the kitchen. There is no wrong way to grieve, and if you know somebody who is grieving right now (I think we all do), instead of saying "I'm sorry for your loss" and disappearing into the night again for the next 3 years until someone else dies, ask "what do you need right now?" If one more person drops into my DMs with a "sorry for your loss," I am going to socially distancing deck them in the fucking nose. But I have cried over those who have taken the time to check in with me and see what I need right now.
Alright that's all from a beaten down, grieving heart. If this was legible to you, then I'm sorry, because that means you've felt this pain too. Go follow me on Instagram @forthe.girlwhowaited
Comments
Post a Comment