After receiving a number of responses to the “Grief” blogs from two weeks ago, I wanted to address the subject again. Below are personal comments and examples of how I moved through the stages of processing grief caused by my arthritis [see blog: “Processing Grief”].
Recognize and Acknowledge Loss: This is the first step and it’s not as easy as it seems. Having to admit the old Annette is gone and she’s never coming back was extremely difficult for me. This disease took away the abilities that defined me. Being physically strong and independent was my foundation. When I no longer had physical strengths, I lost my independence.
I was aware of my diagnosis and experienced the various losses, yet I didn’t know how to incorporate them into my life. In order to acknowledge them, I had to reprogram my way of thinking. I found myself using my brain more and my muscles less. Depending on others for simple, everyday activities made me feel worthless. Being aware of my physical limitations, I reviewed my responsibilities while considering my abilities then made changes.
A simple, yet meaningful example: In an attempt to hold on to some of my independence, I restructured our needs for groceries. Instead of relying on someone to shop with me to lift the heavy items, my family agreed I would do the weekly shopping for items within my range and they would assist once a month for bulk/heavy items.
Vent and Allow Myself to Feel It: Venting is an absolute! There are times when the frustrations of this disease become overwhelming and I have to let go. I cry, scream, cuss, shout, whatever it takes to release my fears, anger, pain, etc. (I avoid hitting and stomping because it would literally break me.) After my tantrum, I collect myself and go on with life. Allowing myself to vent periodically is good as long as it doesn’t consume me.
Let Go and Move Forward: Letting go doesn’t mean to forget. I accept the old Annette is gone and cherish her memories. The Tinmom is still alive, has a family and responsibilities. Moving forward is the only direction.
Example: Water skiing was the old Annette’s passion. When I was no longer able to ski, I passed my ski legs onto my son. When he was ready, I got in the water, put the skies on his feet, held him in position then watched with pride as he skied out of the cove.
Set New Goals Within My Abilities: My husband and I coached little league together. When the physical aspects became too challenging and dangerous for me, I stepped down. Enjoying the sport and kids, I became the team mom, scorekeeper and their biggest fan. Being in the dugout passing out gumballs kept me in the game.
Change Energy and Focus to Meet My New Capabilities: Using my brain more and my muscles less was an unexpected bonus. Although former teachers and classmates may not believe it, I’m actually smart! During down times, I focused on my own education, as well as my sons. Becuase I wasn’t able to physically play, we spent our days being creative, reading stories, building things, learning music, while broadening our minds and talents.
NOTE: Obviously this is a broad subject and my examples do not cover every scenario. They may seem trivial to some, but helpful to others. I chose to be more general than specific. If you post your personal concerns, I’ll address them individually and welcome input from all.
