The older I get, the more I realize that I live in the past.
I have been reading about how our unresolved losses can make moving on to what is next a struggle because we have not properly grieved what has come before. Grieving is a huge part of my life. I am grieving for my sweet best furry friend Sergeant, who I lost six weeks ago. And I am also grieving over my health, and that has been going on for years and years.
I never thought about the way I feel concerning my physical limitations, the future that changed because of my illness, and the worry of how long I will remain mobile being grief. Not until I lost my companion dog and started researching grief.
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I thought what I feel was more like depression. Usually at night while trying to sleep my mind will not shut off, even though my body is tired. I often think of all the plans I had for my life.
When I was younger, I took hold of my dream head-on and became a commercial pilot with instrument rating. I had just started flying for a construction company when these undiagnosed symptoms took my medical certification from me. It wasn’t until years later that I was diagnosed with indolent systemic mastocytosis (SM).
Even through the pain and gastrointestinal problems (plus many more symptoms) I did not let the disease stop me. I may not have been able to fly, but I was able to pursue other dreams like hiking national parks, cave spelunking and traveling to historical sites (I love history). Traveling abroad was one of my favorite things to do. So even though my dream of being a pilot was taken from me, I had life still to live.
I tried to focus on what I could still do and be grateful.
As the years went by, I lost the ability to do most of those things I loved. I could still go, but I had to tweak how things were done. No more climbing in the caves, but I could still do the regular tour. Driving through the parks, with short hikes in between. I can still travel (and I still love it), but all my medical bills meant travel had to be cut out. This makes me sad. There are so many places I still want to see. Like Italy and Greece. I would love to take a cruise, but no one will go with me. None of my family will get on a ship.
My body is constantly reminding me of what I cannot do every single day. I’ve cried, raged, and dealt with constant sadness while pretending that I was fine — which I have read only adds to the stress.
Why me? Why did this hit me at such an early age? My symptoms started in my late teens, and today I am 57 years old. I managed to keep going until my late forties, when the decline worsened.
I try to be thankful for what I can still do. I am grateful that I can get around on my own, that I can walk and still drive my vehicle. I can still play with my grandchildren when I see them.
But since Sergeant’s passing, I am in this house all alone now. He kept me from being alone and loved me so much. Mourning his passing and reading about the stages of grief is where I found the information on chronic sorrow over the loss of your health. Prior to this I just chalked it up to depression.
Living in the past is not good for your health. All the “what-ifs” are constant reminders of a life lost to me. I was so adventurous and loved an adrenaline rush. Now I get an adrenaline rush just by standing up too fast.
I am going to research more on the grieving process dealing with health and do the best I can to accept this is a part of who I am. I have lived a good life and hopefully still have many more years ahead of me to find more things I can still do to make my life enjoyable. It is more complicated in the summertime because of my heat intolerance, but I make up for it in the winter months getting outside.
If you get a chance, read up on grieving your health. There is so much interesting information that might help you come to terms with living with a chronic rare condition. I wish you all the best in all you do. We must never give up on ourselves. It is good to reminiscence about the past and smile, but not to dwell on it with sadness.
