the grief anniversaries no one sees
When so much of the grief journey goes unseen, the answer is often for us to give ourselves (and one another) oodles of grace.
Sol/Soul Friends,
10 years ago this month, a plume of rogue mosquitoes off the coast of Florida invited me into their procreation journey.
It was a journey that gave me a taste and touch of Dengue Fever. I get to share this with you today due to one small miracle: I contracted the non-hemorrhagic kind. Which means that the version of Dengue I experienced did not offer me a fiery exit, but instead a slow descent into a deep and dark pit of humor and despair. Humor, because how else do we survive such pain? And despair, because Dengue is also known as Break Bone Fever - specifically for the severity of the pain that folks experience for months and even years after having met this dis-ease.
For a bit, I marked August 2015 as one clear turning point toward future bodily dysfunction, disconnect and discontent.
And then, I was diagnosed with melanoma.
(My blessed cells seem to take a "go big or go home" approach to life.)
I didn't come here to ramble on about living with chronic illness though.
Instead, I came here to remind you that your grief anniversaries matter.
the day you lost the baby...
the moment you realized your marriage would not - could not - work...
that time when the job you loved more than life itself had a massive employee layoff and your name was on the list...
It all matters.
You may not always remember these events in a visceral, "the world must be ending right now" kind of way. And, you will remember. Some years more than others.
I'm writing today because this is a some years more than others year for me.
I'm writing today because a question rose out from the depths of my cellular fatigue as I was considering how to navigate this experience.
A journal prompt:
What if healing doesn't mean we hide the hurt?
In lieu of holding this week's Grief Body group, I'm inviting you to comment on this post and/or email me above with your response. My commitment to you is that I will write back. Linger in your narrative with you for just a little while.
Send me a poem.
Send me a prayer.
Tell me what it means to not hide your hurt.
I'm all ears, darling.
ILYSM,
J. @jmagnano_
If you didn't catch it, the Grief Body soft launch is being postponed until September. I need a few more weeks to integrate our back-to-school routine into my body, mind and life.
(You'll find a new link in your inbox soon.)