Today marks one full year since I left my job. No... left my career. A career I loved and worked hard to achieve for 10 years.
When I left I thought it would just be for three months. I thought I could "recover" enough to come back "stronger than ever." Our ableist culture told me this was something I could "fight and win!" I mean... it's not like I had Cancer. Right?
No... not Cancer. What I did have was a serious muscle disease that robs my body of processing energy correctly. What I also had/have is crippling migraines that left me unable to work. They cause pain, blur my vision, make time jump, can make people look like flat 2-D cartoons, give me severe dizziness, make me feel like I'm falling (you know that jump scare feeling when you're almost asleep? It's like that). They cause exhaustion (on top of my energy issues that I already have), make my muscles even worse and cause short term memory problems (on top of the memory problems I already have from my mitochondrial myopathy). Try working with that going on. Even for an hour.The Botox shots have been hugely helpful. My migraines aren't the kind that come and go. There's bad and worse. So to get any kind of symptom relief is an enormous improvement to my quality of life. But I digress... this was why I had to leave work.What leaving work did to me? I'm honestly still processing that loss. 2020 has been so shocking and I had so much change so quickly to my entire life that only now is the dust settling in my slow moving (but still brilliant) brain.
I feel the loss of my identity as a therapist profoundly. BUT (there's always a but/and in life if you look closely). But I am also building up new identities as I talked about a little bit before. I am still thriving. I can do both. Re-invent myself and mourn a profound loss all at the same time.I'm learning the language of my body. What different symptoms mean and how to minimize the big ones (when possible). I'm learning to love myself and all my flaws, not to be "at war" with my disease. My disability is a big identity and it's not one that's healthy to "fight." I am the orchestrater of our home. The organizer. The planner. The artist and creative. A daughter, wife and mother. A puppy lover and gardener. I take pleasure in watching the people and things I love grow and flourish. I'm a disability advocate and a friend to some.
These identities are why today doesn't feel like a loss. Today feels like a day to remember and recognize when my world changed, but I am still myself. Still passionate, wise and full of love and life to contribute to my community... It will just be in a different way than I originally thought and planned.
