one woman’s journey navigating a new normal
I discovered that if I’m strong enough to be weak enough, I’m given a wound that never heals. It’s this gift that keeps my heart open. I discovered that joy – real joy that doesn’t deny what’s difficult in our lives – is a choice. Joy finds us when we’re willing to acknowledge that we belong – to ourselves; to another; to the world; to the mystery that is so much larger than ourselves.
The truth is I don’t know what to say; don’t know what to feel; can’t possibly understand the depths of sorrow and pain so many have been forced to scale since terrorists crashed American planes into American buildings and took the lives of more than 3,000.
Each time our health worsens or we undergo another surgery, another diagnosis, we experience a new wave of grief. It’s death by 1,000 cuts. It’s progression within progression, one disease playing off the other. It’s Relapse. Remission. Recurrence.
It’s not a linear path we walk when a relationship ends. We push, we pull, we trudge, we hold fast, we deny, we hope, we rail, we move forward, we fall back, we stand still.
As I sit here this morning, waiting for my name to be called, I'm feeling a weight heavy on my heart. I pick through the various adjectives, trying to lay claim to the one that fits what I'm feeling. And then I realize what it is. It's grief. Bone-crushing, heart-wrenching grief.
You Don't Look Sick Blog 