The Happiness In Healing

Letting go of someone is hard. Grief is hard. No matter if you’re losing a loved one to death, a break up, or a simple falling out, letting go of a person can change you.

At first it feels like the world is ending... and at that time, that’s because in a way it is. You’re losing someone that’s shaped, molded, and defined you for a certain amount of time. That part of your world is ending. Initially, it’s traumatizing and it feels like you won’t make it through another day.

But the good news is, you do. Day after day, you somehow manage to get through it. Even if you’re literally just getting by each day by being in constant survival mode, you still make it. 

And after so long, you go through both the big and the small moments of life without that person. You pass that test, you graduate, you get married (maybe to someone new)... You learn to live a new life, distal from them. 

At first, it’s awkward and you don’t quite know how to do it — especially the big moments. But after those, you‘lo start to feel liberated. Think about it: you had no idea who you were, on your own, without this person. So when you realize that living life without them is still a possibility, you start living for YOU. 

I’m not saying that this realization or the process is easy, but I’m saying that it’s something that one day you’ll appreciate. All of the pain, all of the heartache, all of the tears end up making sense in the end. 

It can take weeks, months, maybe a year - maybe many. But you’ll get used to your new normal, and in a weird way, you’ll be doing it for them. You’ve now got a reason to live. Whether it’s to prove to them that you were capable, or if it’s to pay tribute to someone on the other side, it gives you more motivation to succeed.

In my last post, I talked about how I limited myself to one year to ‘feeling sorry’ for myself after my dad died. Maybe that sounds a little insensitive, but  maybe also a little over-bearing. But it helped me tremendously. In that time, I allowed myself the time that I needed to lay in bed for days at a time, I took a break from school, and I did whatever I could to just remember him and to heal. 

By the time the 10 month mark rolled around, I’d finally gotten re-enrolled back into school and was set to graduate in May. That was the last true ‘grief episode’ I had... He was the whole reason that I had gotten back into school two years prior in the first place. My dad was my ‘why’. So to not have him physically there when I walked across that stage was beyond what words could describe. 

But, at the same time, I was happy. I finally did it. I reached my first big milestone, and because of that I finally had the opportunity to help other cancer patients in the ways that I wished that I could’ve helped my dad. After 15 months, I’m able to talk and think about him without crying. I’m able to see how God is working through the devastation.

When my dad was put on hospice, he decided that he wanted to spend his home, surrounded by his family. So we had frequent visits from the hospice nurses and had on-call nurses available 24/7. One night, my dad pulled out his IV that was delivering his morphine. So, of course, we called his night nurse to come to his rescue. He was on hospice through a religiously affiliated hospital, so naturally, the nurse was also very religious too.

She spoke highly of God. And although prior to this whole experience, I was pretty well-versed in my faith, too, but I couldn’t understand it. How could someone be so faithful to God when being surrounded by dying patients on a daily basis? And believe me when I say that I was so faithful that God could wipe away my dad’s cancer, that I never believed that he even needed hospice. (He very clearly did, but I truly thought God would take it away...)

I remember one night, in his very last days, he pulled out his IV. So we called his on-call night shift nurse and she came out to help fix the situation. Bless this nurse, because she did so much more than that, that will seriously stick with me for a lifetime. 

I was so angry because I was finally started to comprehend the fact that he was actually dying. So this was the first (of many) panic attacks. I remember cursing that nurse. I remember asking her how the hell she could have faith in a God that put people through the kind of pain he was going through. 

It was the first time I truly ever doubted God and my won faith. 

But, 15 months later, I’m starting to realize it. God can use that pain for your good. He can use that pain for the betterment of your society, and for the world. Watching my dad go through that was absolutely traumatizing and I would never wish any of the pain that I or my dad felt on my worst enemy... But, in a sick and twisted way, it drove me even further towards my purpose. 

I’m here to help others who have been through, or are going through, that kind of pain. I didn’t know what to do, how to act, who to talk to, or anything. I felt so helpless and clueless. But I just want to remind others that they’re not alone in your grief and more than anything, I want to let you know that there IS hope, and the pain WILL get better. Try not to feel guilty for the healing process — that’s what they would want. That’s what they DO want. Keep trekking on. 

I always tell my patients (and myself) that you can only take things one day at a time. Sometimes, it’s just one minute or even one second at a time. But I promise, if you keep putting one foot in front of the other - no matter how slowly - you’re going to feel better. And you’ll make you and your person so damn proud. 

Just keep going. 💜