Learning to show up when the burden of grief is heavy
A columnist pushes forward while processing the loss of her beloved pets
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Grief can show up in many different ways. It can come from losing a loved one or a beloved pet, or grieving a part of your life that is slowly changing. For me, grief has been part of living with progressive vision loss. I grieve parts of my independence, experiences I once took for granted, and the future I once imagined for myself.
I’ve accepted my vision loss, but acceptance doesn’t mean I never grieve it. There are still moments when grief returns to the forefront. Sometimes it happens when I have to rely on others for things I wish I could do independently. Other times, watching people around me reach milestones I once imagined for myself can bring up grief about the future I thought I might have. And then there are days when everything seems darker or my eyes just don’t want to work, which can be a difficult reminder that my vision is still changing.
When grief sticks around, it often affects my mood first, which can then impact my motivation and energy. Sometimes I can distract myself and keep moving, while other days it is harder to shake.
No matter what causes it, grief doesn’t follow a predictable timeline. It can be quiet one moment and overwhelming the next. It can exist alongside laughter, friendship, hope, and meaningful experiences. I’m learning that continuing to live doesn’t mean the grief is gone. Sometimes it simply means carrying it with me as I keep showing up.
Currently, I’m navigating the loss of my two best friends, my dogs Mak and Russ. It has been one of the hardest things I’ve ever experienced.
Sometimes I think I’m doing OK, and then the sadness will crash over me again.
I miss everything about Mak and Russ. I miss the little moments — hearing their toenails click across the wood floor, snuggling with them, and always having a friend by my side.
It’s been incredibly hard to keep going, but life requires me to. The sadness doesn’t disappear simply because I have places to be and things to do. Grief made me want to stay in bed and cry, but I had to pick myself up and go to the Bardet Biedl Syndrome Foundation Family Conference.
I had committed to attending the conference months ago, but when the time came, I wanted to cancel the trip. I just wanted to curl up in a ball and cry. My world felt like it was crumbling, and the last thing I wanted to do was pack a suitcase, travel, and socialize.
But I went anyway, and I’m glad I did. Yet even a wonderful experience and a good distraction didn’t erase the grief. I was smiling on the outside, but on the inside, I was crying.
I allowed myself to be sad while continuing to participate. I didn’t have to pretend I was OK, but I also didn’t have to let the sadness make every decision for me.
I am proud of myself for showing up and remaining present. It reminded me that I am resilient and can do hard things. My tenacity prevailed over the sadness, not because those feelings disappeared, but because I kept going alongside them.
All I know is that life doesn’t pause for grief. So I get out of bed, show up, and share my story. I make connections. I allow myself to feel sad and keep participating anyway. Hopefully, for now, just showing up is enough.
Note: Rare Obesity News is strictly a news and information website about these disorders. It does not provide medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. This content is not intended to be a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. Always seek the advice of your physician or another qualified health provider with any questions you may have regarding a medical condition. Never disregard professional medical advice or delay in seeking it because of something you have read on this website. The opinions expressed in this column are not those of Rare Obesity News or its parent company, Bionews, and are intended to spark discussion about issues pertaining to rare obesity disorders.
