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Loss isn't only the death of a loved one; it is felt due
to many different circumstances. I've
been learning a lot about loss in the process of coming to terms with my vestibular
and vision disorders. I'm not going to
get to a point at which I'll be done dealing with the loss; I will, I believe, get to a point at which my
sense of loss is less intense. I was
entering my 50's when I got sick, which means I'd already done a lot of living,
and I can't shut out the memories of what I used to be able to do. I don't think that would be healthy. Shutting out the memories would be forgetting
all those years, and in any case, isn't possible. So I need to learn, even as I do my best
despite frustrations, to move forward, to carry those memories.
I listened to an article once about carrying losses with
us. The hard part is to be able to carry
our losses, to HAVE them become a part of us, but not dominate our lives. I don't want my loss, and inherent sadness, to
weigh me down. I know I need to allow
moments when I feel my grief, but I don't want those moments to disable me. I don't want to feel like I'm lost in my
emotions. I find this all, at times, easier said than done. Loss has a way of creeping up
unexpectedly.
I attended Kol Hadash Humanistic Congregation's Seder at
Bluegrass Restaurant. Over all it was a
positive experience, and I'm glad I went.
There were moments, however, when I was reminded of the loss of what my
life used to be. Like when I sat at the
Seder and remembered that I wouldn't actually read the Haggadah - for that
matter, I didn't want it in front of me.
It's really just a distraction. I
wouldn't read along, and sometimes I chose not to sing, because with everything
I was processing, and all the noises of everyone else, I didn't want to also
have the resonance of my own voice in my head.
I've also been thinking about dealing with loss as time
moves on, and my younger daughter's high school graduation comes closer. Having both daughters in college does not, in
my case, mean I will be moving on professionally, or traveling. So I feel the loss more keenly. Kids are supposed to grow up, and move on. And yes, I'm fully aware that I'll still be
Cara's mom (just as I'm still her sister Leena's mom), that both my daughters
will still need me. But Cara in college
is still change, still a loss that feels more profound for me because of my
limitations.
I think that article was right. Loss
needs to be carried, needs to become a part of ourselves, like all of our life
experiences. So how do I learn to do this? I write about it, both in this blog, and
in private journaling. I talk about it
with my psychologist. Sometimes my flute
playing is an outlet, while other times I try to use it as a distraction. I listen to music. I try to think about - and listen to - other
things, issues that are not about me, to try to get outside of my own
head. In truth, I'm still figuring out
the "how." Sometimes my loss,
my grief will sneak up on me, and I will need to simply feel sad. Other times will be more expected; something
will happen that I know will stir my emotions.
I'll have to take it as it comes; accept and allow myself to have
difficult moments, or even days, but always, always do my best to move through
my grief, keep moving.
