Grief

Incompleteness

Before I got sick with Lymes Disease, I had a lot of hopes, dreams and expectations for myself, especially when it came to physical activity.   Before I met Chris, I was a runner.  I played tennis and was actually fairly active.  Shortly after we got together, we would camp and hike at 10,000 ft elevation nearly every weekend in the spring to early fall.  When we were not camping, we would be planning the next hike or traveling.  We even would camp in the winter on the eastern plains of Colorado in the snow and wind.

In 2001, I woke up from my 40-day coma unable to move nearly any muscle in my entire body.  I couldn’t hold a pencil, talk or lift my hands.  Since the doctors at that time didn’t know why I was so deathly ill, they said I should regain the use of my body.  What they didn’t tell me was it would take many years to get my body back to a functioning level, to where I was prior to getting sick.  The hope of camping at altitude and hiking every weekend was not in my future, at least not for a few of years, as long as I stayed healthy and worked on getting my body back in shape.  So I lived the next 16 years expecting and hoping and dreaming I would be able to be physical once again.  But my body failed me time and time again as Lymes Disease kept flaring up.

When we suffer a loss of any kind, no one ever tells us that we have to change or adapt our hopes, dreams and exceptions for ourselves.  The Grief Recovery Method teaches us to look at these hopes, dreams and exceptions.  Once we can examine them, we can make the changes that need to be addressed.

It’s easy to understand how the death of a loved one changes dreams, hopes and expectations for that relationship.  The person is gone, and all your future changes in an instant.

It’s easy to understand how divorce does the same thing in your life.  You had planned to spend a lifetime with this person.  “To death do us part”.  And yet here you are, sitting with your lawyers, dividing up your stuff, battling over custody and visitation rights for the kids.  So long,  Hopes.  Bye bye, Dreams.  See ya, Expectations.

What you are feeling is grief.

How did your hopes, dreams and expectations change with your loss?

(Coming soon… how “better, different and more” figure into your grief equation.)

Hugs, Cee

email: cee@cee-chris.com

 

31 replies »

  1. Thanks Cee for sharing so much . . . . and for enabling me to take a moment to reflect myself. There has been lots of loss in my life over the past two years, and whilst I think I am coping quite well I had not until today paused to consider the hopes, dreams and expectations that have been altered by these losses. I’ve been surprised how just taking a few moments has already had a positive impact. Going to set aside more time over the weekend to continue to reflect. Thank you both.

    Like

  2. In the beginning my grief drove me deep into myself and sealed me away from people. It took a long time to work my way back out into the world. In some ways I think I am still not fully out of that shell. Maybe I never will come out of that shell fully but at least now I know it is my choice and not one I have no control over. What I am now is better than what I was at the beginning of the journey and for now that is good enough for me.
    Somewhere in the process of closing in I also touched a well of faith that was deeper than anything I realized I had before and that perhaps has been the most hopeful part of this whole process. I am closer to my God now that I have ever been.

    Like

  3. Thank you for this. You reminded me of my four years of M.E. and the fact that I felt that M.E. had stolen the me who used to be. Yes, you are right, it is a form of grief for what might have been. Having been ill is partly what makes me positive about every single day in one way or another, albeit something very small and despite the exhaustion which still plagues me if I ‘do too much’. I send you love and all the best for your dealing with your ‘grief.’

    Like

  4. Thank you for sharing this, Cee! I really never stopped to think of what I was feeling as grief, but it makes sense. Each time I lose a little more ground, I grieve even more.
    This post gives me a lot to think about.
    I am so sorry for what you have been through. 40 days! Wow, I thought it was rough for me when I spent nearly two months in the hospital, and though I was dulled somewhat by pain meds, I was awake and aware. I can’t begin to imagine what it must have been like for you to have lost those days.
    I am glad you are doing better. I know there are good and bad days, I pray the good days far outweigh the bad.
    Thank you so much for sharing your journey (I’m sure it is not easy to relive) and for sharing what you are learning. You are helping many, many people by being so open and transparent about all you have gone through and what you are now learning!
    ❤ Hugs~

    Like

    • I remember the first time I went to the grocery store after having been hospitalized for 5 months. I saw Oprah had a magazine out. That seemed like a huge change to me. The good days do outlay the bad days, by far now. 😀 Thanks RobbyeFaye.

      Liked by 1 person

  5. I’m sorry this has been so hard for you. I had Lyme too, and some other things, and I veer between thinking it’ll get better and I’ll be young and capable again, pretty much, and then sometimes not feeling that. Best wishes to you and to all–

    Like

  6. Thank you for sharing. A friend of mine has been diagnosed with the same disease after several years of being treated like a lunatic because doctors didn’t’t know what she had. Reading your post is inspiring.

    Like

  7. Thankfully it seems possible to detect Lyme disease earlier than in the past which reduces its agonies. Whatever you’ve given up it seems you’ve found much to replace it.

    Like

Share with us!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

w

Connecting to %s