Processing Grief

I lost a lot when I became disabled. 

A big part of my identity was wrapped up in my job. No... my career. It felt like I had just barely scratched the surface of a huge part of my life when everything was turned upside down. First by my muscle disease that cause my energy and mobility issues, then again by my brain tumor that left me with potentially life long side effects.

I am very resilient and landed quickly on my feet. I also have fantastic family support. However I don't think I entirely processed what had happened. I feel like I was just taking it one day at a time in survival mode going from one medical appointment to the next. My identity as a helper of others had been turned around completely and now I was the one in need of help. 

I realize now that the dust has settled a bit (and even though that we're still in a global pandemic) I'm finally processing what happened to me. It was very shocking, completely life changing and horrible. Now I'm having to grow my other identities (and dust off old ones, like being an artist) to rebuild myself. 

A Sharpie drawing I did for my Mama

One thing that hit me hard this weekend was that I had been feeling entirely unattractive. My sexuality had been smashed along with my confidence. Not very long ago I was a full time wage earner, busy but invigorated. Now I feel like a "fat, old crippled lady." (My words)

Of course one fix is slow. Weight loss (which I REALLY need to take more seriously!) The other is my sexual confidence. When I look good, I feel good. But let me back up.

For the last 7 years (since I turned 40) I have flirted with my "natural" hair color. I had been a life long dye addict and was curious what my real hair color looked like. So began a very long repetitive process of growing my hair out, coloring it, then whacking it short to go back to my natural color. After my brain tumor I tried out Henna and shunned the drug store box because of the chemicals. But that was a long process that was also very messy.

Well, this weekend I decided to color my hair again. Not henna, but not the drugstore box either. I went with a natural botanical brand of permanent dye and I picked "Licorice." I wanted a black vixen look like Elizabeth Taylor. 

My Mama took me to our local co-op and they had just what I was looking for. Then she colored it for me at her casa. I actually really love it and do feel much sexier and confident in my looks. It's silly how such a little thing can help me mentally, but it did. 

For me this was less about dying my hair and more about regaining some much needed body autonomy. I often feel like my body runs the show and I'm just along for the ride. This time I took the (black) reigns and got some control back. I also happen to think it looks great, which helps my self esteem. All that for just $18. 

I know I'll continue to process and grieve for what I lost, while being aware the whole time of how very lucky I am. My feelings aren't exclusive and I give myself full permission to feel both.