Maybe you're grieving too

There are many ways in which we are all grieving the loss of something or someone. No matter if it's actually happened or you worry it will.

My life prior to the pandemic wasn't too different from what it is now.

Since I live with an autoimmune disease and have an expensive supply of snazzy (sarcasm), immunosuppressant meds at my disposal to get through each week, washing my hands, and avoiding sickies became my norm a few years ago.

I stopped volunteering at my son's school (boo!). Yearly, extended-family functions could now be counted on one hand (yay!). And navigating community outings and events required lots of planning and wishful thinking that I'd be well enough to venture out (boo!).

However, the pandemic has brought with it a fashionable supply of face masks that I can choose from, virtual events that are filling my calendar and very little privacy or quiet since I'm now at home almost 24/7 with my menfolk.

My face masks will remain as will my menfolk. My husband will continue to work from home for a while longer and we're aware of the privilege we have in allowing our son to do his fourth-grade work through distance learning this school year. And I'm hopeful that many virtual events, as well as virtual working options, will continue for anyone who isn't able to attend a physical location for any reason.

Of course, the pandemic has also ushered in more panic, uncertainty and unfortunately, death.

It's highlighted where systems have been designed to keep certain people and populations fighting for their livelihoods, and actual lives, and where we're complicit in upholding those same systems.

Things are messy, infuriating and exhausting. (Rightly so.)

And a lot more complex than those three words can imply.

There are many ways in which we are all grieving the loss of something or someone. No matter if it's actually happened or you worry it will.

Soon after my rheumatoid arthritis diagnosis, I realized that I was grieving the future I dreamt of before my body began attacking itself. I knew that it could never be the same. I assumed it would be worse. Rarely could I imagine it being better. No matter what, I knew it was forever going to be different.

Grieving an uncertain and unexpected future seemed weird at the time, but turns out it was spot on.

For those of you who've been here for a bit, you may remember me telling you about the importance of talking about suicide. Don't worry, there aren't any graphic details in that link, but you will have access to free resources that I believe we all need.

Now I know I've shared over on Instagram about the grief literacy training I also completed, but I don't think I've ever shared it here. Let me correct that wrong right now.

Being Here, Human’s* Grief Literacy training (I completed level 1 & 2) will open your eyes to SO much and may help you stop thinking your thoughts are weird too. This is important so that you can stop wasting your time wondering, learn why and what you're feeling and experiencing is perfectly natural and normal and what you can do about it.

*IMPORTANT: Being Here, Human has unfortunately closed down their services as of Dec. 1, 2022.

Their training can help you find ways to move forward even when your grief insists on whispering horrible lies in your ear. Plus you'll be better able to relate to people once you know how grief can look and feel different than what you may experience.

Please know that I don't make any money from recommending these trainings to you. Nor was I asked to share them.

I'm simply telling you in case you're interested in seeing if they could be as helpful to you as they have been for me.