The Life You Had Planned
Last week, when I crashed back down again, not only was I dealing with an episode of incredibly dysphoric depression, but on top of that I was really upset because I had been doing so well for about two weeks. I felt so stable. I don’t think I’ve ever felt that way in my entire adult life. I didn’t even know that was possible or that’s what I’d been missing. I didn’t know that feeling existed let alone that I could experience it. I had a glimpse of stability heaven and it was suddenly taken away.
I was so incredibly disappointed not only in my treatment but also in myself. I couldn’t stop thinking, “What had I done that triggered this? What did I do wrong? Obviously, I was being punished and if I could just get it right all of the pain would stop.” Maybe if I was doing something different, if I was living my “right life”, I would be okay again. In my head I continued to obsess, “if I lived closer to my friends… if I wasn’t with Andy… if I lived in a place I liked… if I had a job that I liked… if I could go on another solo trip… if Abby wasn’t getting old,” then maybe I could lead the life I have always wanted and this pain would go away. After all, I wanted friends, family, travel, adventure, animals, laughter, sangria, stories, writing, culture, food, dancing, long walks, confidence, strength, resilience, self-trust, love, independence, peace…
I explained all of this my dear friend J because she suffers from a couple of autoimmune diseases, and we often talk about coping with a chronic and invisible illness, but one sentence she said really stuck with me:
“You’re losing the person you thought you were, the person you’ve been your whole life. I kind of think that’s worth grieving over.”
It is. It truly is.
It is grueling to let go of the person I thought I was and that I wanted to be. I’m can’t say that I’ll never have those things in my life, but I don’t have the control over getting them that I thought I did. I am not the person I thought I was or thought I would be. It could be true that I will have an even better life than I could possibly imagine. I’d like to think that maybe one day all of this will teach me how to savor the good moments and rely on security within myself to find balance and fulfillment. Maybe this illness will teach me and give my life a greater depth than I would have had otherwise. Or maybe it won’t. I don’t know. Maybe that’s one thing I can control.
A common quote by Joseph Campbell says, “We must be willing to give up the life we have planned, so as to have the life that is waiting for us.” I believe this is different than resignation and healthier than resistance. I’m simply not willing to give up on my relationship with Andy because it’s hard, I can’t prevent Abby from getting old, I’m not in a position where I can travel right now, but I can try to accept that relationships are difficult, that I can’t actually prevent death, and that failing to get what I want is painful. These unfulfilled expectations are worth my sadness and grief and with the understanding of this painful emotions I can comfort myself, begin to heal, and build something new. I can’t begin to know how to build a new me and a new life, but I suppose a really good start is to grieve over the loss of my old life and my old expectations.
