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Hold Space
The grief cycle of diagnosis does not just apply to me, but to all my loved ones.
One of the hardest things about chronic illness is how it has irrevocably and undeniably affected my relationships. It’s hard to bear witness to how the people in my life respond to my diagnosis. There is no flawless response, no unbreakable show of strength and support. Just as my response is layered and messy, so has theirs been.
I was asked to confront, accept, and acknowledge my “new normal” in a way that no one else in my life must. But that doesn’t mean that they don’t: I must live with my condition, but so, too, must the people closest to me.
Revisiting grief
Two and a half years into my diagnosis and it’s only recently that I truly recognized how the grief cycle of diagnosis does not just apply to me. My loved ones grieve too. And if I’m honest, that’s not just painful to observe— it makes me angry.
But let’s talk about their pain first.
Despite their medical training, my parents are still parents, and I can see the worry, fear, and sadness in their eyes as they watch me navigate these new waters. They know that every day isn’t all bad, but they know that every day is painful. They don’t know what to do for me, what piece of advice will grant me more peace of mind.
