17

 It doesn't take much these days. I get pushed over the edge of "not okay" quite easily. Could be as simple as a light breeze or a twinge of pain; and I'm right back to being a helpless 12 year old.

This morning while loading the dishwasher I lost it. Such a simple, ordinary task that many don't think twice about. However, loading/unloading the dishwasher is one of my biggest triggers for back pain. And this morning was not special in that I avoided any of the pain. But, today...I just couldn't take the pain. I melted into the same useless puddle of a person as I did 17 years ago when I lost my sister.

I'm grieving a loss today. A loss I have felt for 17 years now. I'm grieving the life my sister should have had and the time that was taken from experiencing life with her. 

I'm also grieving myself. I am not who I want to be, who I ever wanted to be. I am grieving the life I wanted to live versus the one I got. I am grieving for the unfairness, the injustice, of the world.

If you'd really like a peek into my world of grief its not so simple. I'm grieving so many complicated things. I do not get to know what it would've been like to graduate high school, graduate college, get married, etc. with Aria by my side. My life continues to roll on. The memories fade while I'm so desperately clinging to the way spending time with my sister felt. That is all I have anymore. 

Chronic pain has jaded the way I view everything. One unavoidable way it's crept in so deceivingly was through my grief. I grieve heavily for my sister. But I'm also grieving heavily for myself. I grieve because I don't just miss my sister - I miss myself. I miss me before my injury. I miss me before the trauma of watching my sister pass on. At each new stage of life I am met with more ways I am not whole. 

I want to live my life in reflection of honoring my sister. I'm just so disappointed with what feels like an inability to successfully do so. I am so frequently bound to the couch, the heating pad, the ice pack, etc. I spend so much time in the doctors offices. Countless therapist/counselor and psychiatry appointments. Every bit of me is trying crawling back to who I used to know as "me" without the pain.

Aria was incredibly good at making me feel that I was enough; I didn't need to be anything else, just me. Since her death, I've deeply struggled trying to figure out who I am and what that looks like in 100% authenticity.

I had to shed some pieces of me to find who I truly am underneath all of the influence, good and bad. I took off the heavy cloak of "faith" and I laid it down to rest. I know my sister, wherever she is, proudly looks down at the heavy burden I carried for so long. The burden of perfectionism. The burden of needing to hate myself and my sin but also love myself because god does (??). The burden of turning every human experience into a salvation experience. The burden of constantly feeling judged and watched. The burden of just never being enough. I know my sister would never want any of that for me. So, I grieve my sister, I grieve my injury, and I grieve my indoctrination and the ways it contributed to my mental health struggle.

I had to shed some pieces of me that I just needed to let go of. I had to say goodbye to the avid runner, snowboarder, and explorer. My life as I knew it needed to be put to rest because my physical inabilities prohibited it. I'm not sure I'll ever be done grieving that loss. Just as I'll never not miss my sister.

I don't just grieve one day a year. I grieve in little (and big ways) daily. But this day is unavoidably horrid. The culmination of time passing coupled with layers of guilt and grief. I want to look at the world and say "GEE! There are so many things I could do and people I could be" - but reality rolls in like a dark storm cloud. Mental illness and physical disabilities rain down on my parade. All I can see is what I am incapable of. 

Maybe grief has hardened me in such a way that I'm unable to conjure up hope. I feel at all times I must remain a realist and believe that anything (bad) could happen. Because it has and it will continue. I was trained to never expect good things to be bestowed upon me. I did not expect them nor did I think I deserved them. My ultimate "relief" and "prize" was in heaven...awaiting my death. What a sad thought.

I'd been raised to glorify death and martyrdom. But what about now? The life I have now? The people in my life now? I think this time is what matters most of all. It should be spent wisely.

I do not treat others well because there's a prize awaiting me in heaven if I do it. I treat people with kindness and empathy because - god damn -I just need a little bit of it myself sometimes. I truly believe in putting out the energy you want to attract. I do not think faith authentically cultivates this in people. More often than not, I find that faith convinces people that they are better/more righteous, etc. than the "secular" world.  

I do not wish chronic pain on anyone. But I do wish for a little understanding. The heaviness of grief and the strength to live in the face of a life ripped apart once by loss then again by injury is inexplicable. I don't have it "the worst" nor am I trying to garner pity. However, 17 years of loss isn't something you just get used to and get over. The levels become more complex the more time that passes. It almost seems like when I admit how long its been that people will expect me to not be torn up about it. Grievers know that's not how it works though.

I haven't been able to do some of my favorite things for 3 years now. I suppose most people would expect me to move on, as they do with grievers, and find new hobbies and a new way to enjoy life.. I think that is crucial in obtaining joy after loss. Chronic pain has stolen so much of my joy. Loss has cast a dark shadow on every "big" life event. How do you expect someone to just "get over that"?

I guess I'm learning to be okay with disappointing people. I am learning to be okay with being the only one that can put in the hard work to navigate this life journey - and some people that once were will no longer be a part of it. I am learning to be okay with who I am now versus what I thought I'd be. I am learning to not be worried about the conclusions drawn about me; I'm sure there are many but it is important to put down what you have no control over.

Those on the outside of grief, or chronic pain, or deconstruction may look upon someone like me and call me selfish. For the ways I've needed to protect my energy, my mental health, and my body. That is something I've had to come to terms with quickly because I realized how absolutely necessary putting myself first for once was. People make a lot of assumptions (you're bitter, you're lazy, you just want a life of sin etc.). But only I know what's keeping me from spilling over. Only I know my limitations. Only I can establish my boundaries and flex them. I know my sister would advocate for me...to be me ... not for anyone else. She instilled that in me and I carry it with me. Through every season of life. 

After 17 years of joy being stolen from me and dark rain clouds of grief hovering over every precious moment, I am interested in who the 12 year old me will rise up to be. I've spent time holding her, caring for her, and loving her. The way she deserved to be 17 years ago. I believe only good things can come from going back and healing the layers - not that they will cease to exist but that I can start to live authentically in the face of them. 

Take care of yourselves, friends.