Grief of a Different Kind

"Most people will never understand how painful it is to watch your entire world fall apart and be expected to keep going." ~ Unknown

!!TRIGGER WARNING!!

I promised you real and authentic. Here it is.

Denial. Anger. Bargaining. Depression. Acceptance. The five stages of grief. Ha, grief. Grief is a funny thing. And a horrible thing.

But it also makes you think too. Love, forgiveness, aging, meaning of life. Makes you see things for the way they are. Makes you appreciate the small things in life.

(I think it’s time I reread my favorite book. Maybe Morrie Schwartz will put some perspective into my thinking. Or options. Or my emotions.)

This a different kind of grief than grief from loss. I grieve a life that I don’t get to see. A life I wasn’t able to experience. A life full of hardship and then dealing with terminal illness, it’s a fucked-up thing. It’s a slap to the face really. Oh, you think you finally get a break? Think again.

I have tried too damn hard to get my mind right only to be thrown back into depression and heartache. And once again I feel like I’m drowning. It has been a really hard couple of weeks, and I’m trying to keep pushing like nothing’s wrong. But avoiding the issue doesn’t make it go away. It only makes the monster grow bigger. Covering my pain with alcohol only caused me to hurt those I truly care about, including myself.

It has been really hard lately. Full of anger and bitterness. Full of fear and loneliness. I spent most of the week in a fetal position on my bed crying and yelling at the ceiling. Wishing I could wake up from this awful nightmare. Wishing this was some kind of cruel joke. I was so ready to give up. I wanted to get blacked out drunk and go play in traffic. Or play chicken with an oncoming train. Or turn my thighs into ground meat. When you have been suicidal like I have been most of my life it’s easier to come up with methods than facing your monsters head on.

Knowing I’m not alone is the only reason I’m still here. Still writing this blog. And by some small miracle, holding onto the tiniest thread of hope. Yes, I still have hope. Beyond everything, beyond the grief, beyond the pain. I still have this huge desire to be make an impact in the world.

(Also, I kinda want to be here to celebrate when IT happens. I will be damned if I go first. Let the underdog win this one.)

All jokes aside, I am still unsure what option I plan to take. Dialysis and transplantation and all that goes with it. Appointments. Medications. Doctors. Hospitals.  Medical supplies and equipment. The mental load of dealing with all of that. The other option is no option and living the rest of my life as fully and happily as possible for whatever time I have left. There will still be appointments and medical requirements I’ll have to adhere to. Both options have advantages and disadvantages that I need to weigh before a decision can be made.

(I’m afraid that if I don’t make a choice, someone else will make it for me.)

Whatever happens, it has to be okay in the end. Otherwise, my grandma wouldn’t be hanging around. God wouldn’t still have me hanging on to hope if it wasn’t going to be okay. I would have already deleted myself from existence if it wasn’t going to be okay. So, I know it will be okay. It has to be okay. It has to be.

Whatever I happens, whatever decision I make, I will be sure to update as time progresses. In the meantime, I just want to enjoy what life I do have. Full of love, support and hope.

Until the next Spark,

Kat