Loss - Twice Over

I love and hate memories, the reminders, the flashbacks, the pain from remembering, knowing, realising truly, that I’m NEVER going to be experiencing those things EVER again (my brain basically screaming it) — and anything I might be able to experience in some way, it will NEVER be in the same way…

The sense of loss, soul-wrenching grief, delight, warmth, joy, hatred, frustration… Swinging from anger and despair at being left to rot, to the joyful, reliving knowledge I got to do and experience those things at all… Then returning all the way BACK to having my heart and soul ripped out from remembering I’m NEVER EVER going to be able to have that back again….

As they said… This is the life I never, ever signed up for.

Now….(?) The trauma and grief seem to know no bounds...

It then took MANY years before I could throw my old stuff away. Well, start to. I still have a few bits and pieces that should still go, that I’m still hanging onto; that I don’t think will ever go. Bits of things that were supposed to be my future are now nothing more than memories of a long-eroded past. But I want to remember that it was there, once.

***

Thing is, I’ve now also got to the point of having to get rid of things from the beginning of my time being chronically ill, as well — because things have changed SO much since then.

And that…? There are seriously NO WORDS For That.

I was swept all the way down the mountain in an avalanche I never anticipated; Never Saw Coming… To the point where the first few years of being Chronically Ill & Disabled were being relegated to the “R.I.P Past Me” segment, because this was also a level of “better” that I could or would never attain again.

I’ve gone downhill so much within the last 3 years, especially… Even MORE so in the last 18 months… That even things that I could do back then, I don’t have a hope in hell of being able to use or manage to do anymore. Instead of my “new normal”,

Because now….(?)… I’m virtually bedbound, quadriplegic-level paralysed, and unable to do much of, well… Anything.

***

It’s been 12 years since I first became chronically ill, and A LOT happened during that time. It’s been 8 years since I first became paralysed. Things got much worse after I contracted and survived two kinds of Septicaemia plus Sepsis, which also included quadriplegic-level paralysis, 7 years ago. I caught COVID 4 years ago. MEGA MAJOR Autistic Burnout flamed out completely 2 years ago.

By the end of all that… Well. There was nothing left of *Me*, anymore. I’d had it ALL thrown away for me… by things I didn’t even know of, let alone knew the name of. Yet.

When I started this Nightmarish, Horrific Journey, all those years ago, I already had a good idea how I was going to be mourning the loss of my old “normal body” life; I’d done it enough times before, for other reasons. However, there was no reckoning of mourning what came after. It never occurred to me I’d be mourning the loss of part of my life AS a chronically ill, disabled person, who *once* could still manage to do certain things or be a certain way, but now had no ability of it… being left with nothing but knowing those days were long gone.

***

I don’t remember how many years ago I finally gave up those things that were of “before”: Gorgeous Victorian-Goth outfits, expensive corsetry, huge & billowing skirts, my work clothes (gothy-but-IT-Dept-Office-“Acceptable”), work boots (gothy-but-not-6-inch-platforms-Acceptable”). A multitude of random belongings, all mine, all from A Person That No Longer Existed. For all wants and purposes might as well be dead. They had to go, but doing it was also killing me.

I also Did NOT expect to be doing the Very Same Thing with clothes and items that were part of my life afterwards.

To give or throw away things I’d enjoyed or been so fundamental when I was in my “new” life, because I went through the same thing… Well. If it was heartbreaking for the first lot of saying goodbye to a life that once was mine as a “normal” me, it was utterly, overwhelmingly, Brutally, Decimating to be experiencing it with the new things, because I got a lot worse.

***

But, Both Times… In doing so… I wasn’t able to replace them with anything else — and I [the lack of me] became a black hole within myself I still haven’t managed to fill up again. I have no Identity, or sense of Self anymore. It’s just… Empty.

Doesn’t help I haven’t been able to re-dye my hair; especially because I went grey in my early 30’s, less than a decade ago, and looks like my mother’s…(!) can’t do my gothy makeup (well, or ANY kind of makeup), can’t wear the clothes I like. I can’t do the things I love. I had to give up on the [new] career I’d spent six years building…

There’s just nothing left anymore to even grasp onto.

I had to give up everything; give up Me. I replaced it with nothing. I just can’t replace it, because I’ve got nothing to replace it all with…I'd remade myself several times over already by then — and I had THE most Authentic Self I’d ever had when I was hit with all this. But there was always a Fundamental “Self” that went with me through each version, continuously growing, evolving, maturing into myself. This… Ripped all that away from me.

I was able to manage some kind of life before catching COVID…. And I struggled to maintain something after; MAJORLY SEVERE Autistic Burnout had other ideas about my future, though, and decimated whatever was left.

I have tried to accept that; I can't.

I can’t even process it; get my head around it. Technically, I understand it, but I can’t grasp or accept it.

It’s been only 3 years since the Burnout burnt-up everything [left]. I still grieve.

I only just found out WHY it all happened and the REAL reason I lost everything back in March…. Just 2 MONTHS Ago.

This. [re: the adjoined Post/s below, directly referenced] … Absolutely This.

***

I love and hate memories, the reminders, the flashbacks, the pain from remembering, knowing, realising truly, that I’m NEVER going to be experiencing those things EVER again (my brain basically screaming it) — and anything I might be able to experience in some way, it will NEVER be in the same way…

The sense of loss, soul-wrenching grief, delight, warmth, joy, hatred, frustration… Swinging from anger and despair at being left to rot, to the joyful, reliving knowledge I got to do and experience those things at all… Then returning all the way BACK to having my heart and soul ripped out from remembering I’m NEVER EVER going to be able to have that back again….

As they said… This is the life I never, ever signed up for.

Now….(?) The trauma and grief seem to know no bounds.…

It then took MANY years before I could throw my old stuff away. Well, start to. I still have a few bits and pieces that should still go, that I’m still hanging onto; that I don’t think will ever go. Bits of things that were supposed to be my future are now nothing more than memories of a long-eroded past. But I want to remember that it was there, once.

***

Thing is, I’ve now also got to the point of having to get rid of things from the beginning of my time being chronically ill, as well — because things have changed SO much since then.

And that…? There are seriously NO WORDS For That.

I was swept all the way down the mountain in an avalanche I never anticipated; Never Saw Coming… To the point where the first few years of being Chronically Ill & Disabled were being relegated to the “R.I.P Past Me” segment, because this was also a level of “better” that I could or would never attain again.

I’ve gone downhill so much within the last 3 years, especially… Even MORE so in the last 18 months… That even things that I could do back then, I don’t have a hope in hell of being able to use or manage to do anymore. Instead of my “new normal”,

Because now….(?)… I’m virtually bedbound, quadriplegic-level paralysed, and unable to do much of, well… Anything.

***

It’s been 12 years since I first became chronically ill, and A LOT happened during that time. It’s been 8 years since I first became paralysed. Things got much worse after I contracted and survived two kinds of Septicaemia plus Sepsis, which also included quadriplegic-level paralysis, 7 years ago. I caught COVID 4 years ago. MEGA MAJOR Autistic Burnout flamed out completely 2 years ago.

By the end of all that… Well. There was nothing left of *Me*, anymore. I’d had it ALL thrown away for me… by things I didn’t even know of, let alone knew the name of. Yet.

When I started this Nightmarish, Horrific Journey, all those years ago, I already had a good idea how I was going to be mourning the loss of my old “normal body” life; I’d done it enough times before, for other reasons. However, there was no reckoning of mourning what came after. It never occurred to me I’d be mourning the loss of part of my life AS a chronically ill, disabled person, who *once* could still manage to do certain things or be a certain way, but now had no ability of it… being left with nothing but knowing those days were long gone.

***

I don’t remember how many years ago I finally gave up those things that were of “before”: Gorgeous Victorian-Goth outfits, expensive corsetry, huge & billowing skirts, my work clothes (gothy-but-IT-Dept-Office-“Acceptable”), work boots (gothy-but-not-6-inch-platforms-Acceptable”). A multitude of random belongings, all mine, all from A Person That No Longer Existed. For all wants and purposes might as well be dead. They had to go, but doing it was also killing me.

I also Did NOT expect to be doing the Very Same Thing with clothes and items that were part of my life afterwards.

To give or throw away things I’d enjoyed or been so fundamental when I was in my “new” life, because I went through the same thing… Well. If it was heartbreaking for the first lot of saying goodbye to a life that once was mine as a “normal” me, it was utterly, overwhelmingly, Brutally, Decimating to be experiencing it with the new things, because I got a lot worse.

*

But, Both Times… In doing so… I wasn’t able to replace them with anything else — and I [the lack of me] became a black hole within myself I still haven’t managed to fill up again. I have no Identity, or sense of Self anymore. It’s just… Empty.

Doesn’t help I haven’t been able to re-dye my hair; especially because I went grey in my early 30’s, less than a decade ago, and looks like my mother’s…(!) can’t do my gothy makeup (well, or ANY kind of makeup), can’t wear the clothes I like. I can’t do the things I love. I had to give up on the [new] career I’d spent six years building…

There’s just nothing left anymore to even grasp onto.

I had to give up everything; give up Me. I replaced it with nothing. I just can’t replace it, because I’ve got nothing to replace it all with…I'd remade myself several times over already by then — and I had THE most Authentic Self I’d ever had when I was hit with all this. But there was always a Fundamental “Self” that went with me through each version, continuously growing, evolving, maturing into myself. This… Ripped all that away from me.

I was able to manage some kind of life before catching COVID…. And I struggled to maintain something after; MAJORLY SEVERE Autistic Burnout had other ideas about my future, though, and decimated whatever was left.

I have tried to accept that; I can't.

I can’t even process it; get my head around it. Technically, I understand it, but I can’t grasp or accept it.

It’s been only 3 years since the Burnout burnt-up everything [left]. I still grieve.

I only just found out WHY it all happened and the REAL reason I lost everything back in March…. Just 2 MONTHS Ago.