Anemia

I haven’t written in a while because I’ve honestly not been able to put my feelings into words. It’s rainy and grey and all I want to do is hibernate, but that’s just not my life. So I keep trying to put one foot in front of the other on a steady basis. I’m just very, very weary.

It’s not just emotional, either. I’ve been severely anemic since the boys were born and require regular iron and blood transfusions. It’s typically an every-six-months type of deal with steroids before and after. Today I am lucky enough to receive both blood and iron, which means a large-bore IV. At the hospital, they numb you topically with lidocaine cream, but not at the clinic, so it actually hurts quite a bit. Why is it that the things which are good for us are so often painful in the process?

I was whining to myself about things this morning when I realized that it’s all one big metaphor. I’m exhausted and need to deal with that. Dealing with it hurts, but it’s necessary because anemia can actually cause heart failure and we’ve already reached our family quota on that particular issue, thank you very much. And the treatment- the actual process of dealing with it – is lengthy and likely life-long.

You see where I’m going with this, don’t you? Substitute grief for anemia and it’s a pretty accurate snapshot.

I think part of the reason I’ve been struggling for words is that I’ve tried too hard to numb myself up. Dealing with the emotions I feel hurts too freakin’ bad, so I push them deeper and propel myself forward blindly in order to escape it all. Of course I can’t describe it – I can’t even SEE it. How in the world can I expect the things I feel to get better if I refuse to treat them? The only way out is through.

I firmly believe that grief is the price we pay for loving deeply. I look back over my mom’s final months and I have zero regrets – she knew how much she meant to me and vice versa. She knew I’d do anything I could for her because she watched me do it. And she knew she was safe to leave this earth because she’d said her goodbyes and exactly where she was headed. There is absolutely nothing about mom’s final weeks that I would do differently if given the opportunity, so I feel confident that I’ve earned both my grief and the time needed to process this loss. Nobody ever thought differently about it but me; lots of people have told me just that. But I was convinced that I needed to be solid for the kids and dad and that I still needed to do all the things regardless. There was no way to do that without stuffing my emotions into a compartment far, far away. But I’m realizing that, like my blood transfusions, it’s gotta hurt before I can truly get better.