I've pondered this a lot in the last 7 months. Why isn't grief considered a disability? There is so much that comes along with it and it affects your mind and body in more ways than you think possible.
For me, I suffer from depression, anxiety, and fibromyalgia. I take at least 10 medications a day, go to grief therapy, and physical therapy to assist my body because grief has taken a tole on it.
Every day, I'm expected to go out into the world and function. Would we make someone that is going through chemo do the same? Would we judge how they participate in their day or at their job or in their life in general? What about someone that is visibly ill? Would we expect the same from them?
Probably not. So why do we expect someone with grief that is suffering daily, to go out into the world and function at a high level? Let me be very honest here. I'm not functioning well. I cry a lot. I'm so sad that it hurts. My body hurts. My brain hurts. My heart hurts. We show great amounts of compassion to the people that have visible illness and disability but not the ones that have an invisible illness or disability. We cut slack for those that are suffering with a visible disability or illness but we don't afford the same to the ones that suffer in silence with an invisible disability.
Seven months ago, we were surrounded by people that supported us and loved on us. Seven months later, the car accident has been cleaned up, no more rubber necking or morbid curiosity, nothing to see here. Everyone else went on about their life and they are fine. We are still here trying to figure out how in the hell to go on.
For me, losing Catherine has made me feel like a failure. A huge failure. I had one job and that was to take care of her. And apparently I didn't because she died. You can argue with me all day long and tell me that isn't the case but it is how I feel and it is something I battle every single day. As a result, I lay awake most nights worrying about my children. I go upstairs and check on them. Sometimes I work my mind into a full panic attack. My confidence in my parenting is shaken. I'm exhausted. I don't sleep. Half of my soul was ripped away from me and I feel it. Every. Single. Day. And yet I'm supposed to go on and function.
I spend most days fighting tears and the massive depression that threatens to claim me. I'm medicated but that only goes so far. When the grief, the anxiety, the depression, and the body pain start to take over other parts of your life and you fail, you are left feeling broken and even more of a failure. And every bit of it is invisible. No one sees the depression or the anxiety or the massive hole in my heart. No one knows the pain in my body that I fight daily. But I am expected to go on and function as though nothing happened.
Why the hell isn't grief a disability? Because I can assure you it is the most debilitating thing I've ever experienced. I heard a lady on the radio discuss going through an incredibly traumatic event. She said it wasn't until she came to realize that she wasn't the same person anymore that she was finally able to start healing. That is sound advice. Except I don't want to be someone different and most people expect me to continue being the person I was prior to August 30, 2017. I don't know who I am anymore.
I do know this. I'm sad. So incredibly sad. The grief is hitting me harder than I thought possible. The realization that she is really gone is hitting. Seven months later and I'm falling apart. Grief is exhausting and unrelenting and so very lonely. Seven months later and people are tired of seeing you cry. They are over it and expect you to do the same. They expect you to function at high levels and there is no compassion or allowances afforded to you. It is miserable. And that my friends, is the reality of grief.
For me, I suffer from depression, anxiety, and fibromyalgia. I take at least 10 medications a day, go to grief therapy, and physical therapy to assist my body because grief has taken a tole on it.
Every day, I'm expected to go out into the world and function. Would we make someone that is going through chemo do the same? Would we judge how they participate in their day or at their job or in their life in general? What about someone that is visibly ill? Would we expect the same from them?
Probably not. So why do we expect someone with grief that is suffering daily, to go out into the world and function at a high level? Let me be very honest here. I'm not functioning well. I cry a lot. I'm so sad that it hurts. My body hurts. My brain hurts. My heart hurts. We show great amounts of compassion to the people that have visible illness and disability but not the ones that have an invisible illness or disability. We cut slack for those that are suffering with a visible disability or illness but we don't afford the same to the ones that suffer in silence with an invisible disability.
Seven months ago, we were surrounded by people that supported us and loved on us. Seven months later, the car accident has been cleaned up, no more rubber necking or morbid curiosity, nothing to see here. Everyone else went on about their life and they are fine. We are still here trying to figure out how in the hell to go on.
For me, losing Catherine has made me feel like a failure. A huge failure. I had one job and that was to take care of her. And apparently I didn't because she died. You can argue with me all day long and tell me that isn't the case but it is how I feel and it is something I battle every single day. As a result, I lay awake most nights worrying about my children. I go upstairs and check on them. Sometimes I work my mind into a full panic attack. My confidence in my parenting is shaken. I'm exhausted. I don't sleep. Half of my soul was ripped away from me and I feel it. Every. Single. Day. And yet I'm supposed to go on and function.
I spend most days fighting tears and the massive depression that threatens to claim me. I'm medicated but that only goes so far. When the grief, the anxiety, the depression, and the body pain start to take over other parts of your life and you fail, you are left feeling broken and even more of a failure. And every bit of it is invisible. No one sees the depression or the anxiety or the massive hole in my heart. No one knows the pain in my body that I fight daily. But I am expected to go on and function as though nothing happened.
Why the hell isn't grief a disability? Because I can assure you it is the most debilitating thing I've ever experienced. I heard a lady on the radio discuss going through an incredibly traumatic event. She said it wasn't until she came to realize that she wasn't the same person anymore that she was finally able to start healing. That is sound advice. Except I don't want to be someone different and most people expect me to continue being the person I was prior to August 30, 2017. I don't know who I am anymore.
I do know this. I'm sad. So incredibly sad. The grief is hitting me harder than I thought possible. The realization that she is really gone is hitting. Seven months later and I'm falling apart. Grief is exhausting and unrelenting and so very lonely. Seven months later and people are tired of seeing you cry. They are over it and expect you to do the same. They expect you to function at high levels and there is no compassion or allowances afforded to you. It is miserable. And that my friends, is the reality of grief.
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