The Good, Bad and Ugly
I am an eternal optimist. The sky is always blue even above the clouds. This does not mean that I deny the bad, I am a realist. Life has given me plenty of fodder or fertilizer in my garden. I came to a point in life in my early thirties when I asked myself what I was going to do about the life I had created. I decided at that point to put away my victimization and act. I decided that life is how I frame it.
I am not going to lie. When I first woke up, I was not a glass half full kind of girl. I was more of….I have a glass. I think I have navigated the worst of my grief quite privately. I believe in the power of the word. Thoughts become things. Sometimes those things are weeds in the garden of life that should be pulled. Sometimes the weeds offer a signpost of something to take notice of. I am grateful that I have a decades long self awareness and meditation practice. I have learned when to lead, follow or get out of the way.
Please do not mistake my silence at times as a weakness. I consider it a great strength. I choose not to cause harm to others if I am not feeling mentally safe myself. At the same time there is so much strength in vulnerability.
Again, do not mistake my vulnerability as a weakness. It takes great strength and fortitude to communicate clearly when feeling anxiety, fear or threatened. As a blind woman my translation time may be delayed longer than a sighted person, but I have to discern what is going on without all of the variables.
When people like myself go through such a catastrophic life-changing event all eyes are on the person in recovery. Some attention is shared with the supportive family until life goes on. The grief and loss of the loved ones can sometimes be greater than the person experiencing the loss. I had a whole team that includes a psychologist. I also had a large self-awareness practice and could recognize milestones and signposts of
grief. My life changed from being the caregiver to being the one cared for. My partner did not receive the same supports as I. He has different mental health skills than I do. Men are proud.
I realized quite early on that I could not be his person through his grief and adjustment yet expected him to help me. Look after me. Do my paperwork, accounting, and business. My world was digital. His was analog.. We did not compute.
We are finding our way. I have my supports. I am taking back many of my previous roles or finding people more suited to others. We are finding ways to communicate with dignity and respect. I am stronger and more able to use healthy boundaries to ask for the same.
I am a person of action. I am a leader. I have been guilty of doing for others things they should do for themselves. Today I choose to be a forklift operator and meet people where they are at. I can say with compassion I think you need help with that. I am not in a safe place to help you today.
I can say with compassion “you need to put on your oxygen mask and look after yourself.” Mothers learn this lesson by necessity, sometimes after they are drowning.
Navigating through years of chronic illness topped off with a grand finally of blindness is not for the faint of heart. It has not been an easy ride. I am grateful for the support that was given. Not all gifts are neatly wrapped in a bow with nice paper. The trick is to see the gift given through the grief-stricken eyes of both the giver and the receiver.
My best words of advice. Loss comes in many ways, shapes, and forms. The entire family unit benefits from grief counselling. There is no timeline for how long it takes to navigate through it. Be patient. Be kind. Take good care of self and each other. Find small places to grow peace.
Edwina Nearhood is a long time Fort St. John resident sharing her vision loss journey. Please remember, every person’s vision loss experience is as unique as they are.
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