Moving On

This has been a particularly hard couple of weeks as I guess I should expect.  Last Friday was Will's funeral and I could not be there as I wanted to be.  I considered how I could make it happen but my daughter's birthday was the next day and it would have just been logistically too difficult.  I also didn't want to intrude on Will's family.  This has to be devastating for them and I wanted to give them some space.  During his service, I wrote to Will.  I told him I was thinking a bout him and his family.  I'm pretty sure he would  have understood my not being there.  I was with him in spirit all that day though.  I could not stop thinking about my friend.

With Will's passing, I have had re-open some issues and revisit some painful memories.  Not all have been bad though.  Death has thankfully been a rare occurrence in my life.  But that also means I forget how it feels, how it hurts and how I am supposed to grieve.  This has also been the first death in my life that has been someone so young.  I've had grandparents die and co-workers and acquaintances.  Each loss has been painful in its own unique way.  The fact that Will died from his eating disorder, which was treatable, and the fact that Will was so very young, has been a new type of loss that I have not experienced before.  It has brought up a lot of feelings:  Deep sadness, intense anger, irritability, guilt, and moments of refection and happiness in remembering him.  I had forgotten some of Will's antics and it was so wonderful to be reminded by others who knew him.  His Bon Qui Qui imitation could not be matched.  And it repeatedly brings a smile to my face to think of him shouting "BOOM!  YA DONE!"  Remembering him dancing in an open field with a toilet brings me to laughter.  What a character he was.  He truly was a piece of me that I will hold on to forever.

In the  last week I have talked to many people I have lost contact with from Denver.  It has been comforting and healing.  The community immediately came together to support each other in the ways we were able.  Texts, e-mails, gatherings and Skype sessions served as a reminder that we were not alone in our loss and sadness. I took the day off last Monday to process, think and grieve.  I went to my favorite place to be alone; the cemetery.  Yes, I know it's weird.  But I have always had a love of cemeteries.  They are quiet, beautiful, sad and full of life all at once.  Being among the forgotten names and wondering about the histories underneath brings me peace and comfort.  And, if I couldn't be with my friend Will, then I could be with my friend Robin (whom I have never met but who has the most beautiful headstone in the cemetery I visit).  I wrote, I listened to music, I walked, I lay in the grass, I prayed.  I even sang.  Some people when they  experience a loss say they feel "numb".  I suppose I did at some point.  But in that cemetery on that beautiful day, I felt more alive than I had in a while.  I was reminded of how precious life is.  How very short it can be.  I watched nature move on.  The bees were buzzing in the flowers next to me.  Birds were chattering.  I noticed the smallest things around me like the tiny ants climbing the blades of grass.  The sun was blazing hot.  The clouds seemed infinite and I felt so small.  Everything felt so real in that time I had alone.  It was lovely and sad all at the same time.

I went back to work.  Started moving back into my normal routine.  Eating the food that Will would have wanted me to eat. "Will would kick your ass if you gave up," one friend reminded me.  I got in to my dietician appointment two weeks early.  I cried and cursed in her office while she sat calmly and looked on compassionately.  I actually contacted my therapist whom I haven't seen for six months.  I took special care of myself.  Listened to what felt right in regards to grieving and recovery.  I did (and am still doing ) exactly what is right for me.  I cry at random moments, and I swear a lot.  I still have anger with no where to direct it.  Last night on the drive home from Seattle, I  got ridiculously mad.  Mad at the disease.  Mad at how miserable people are with it.  Mad at how many lives are destroyed or wasted because of it.  Mad at the system for failing those who need help.  I felt helpless and small.  Right now I have two mentees who are struggling and several friends.  What can I do?  I can't do a damn thing!  I was so very angry.  I eventually remembered; I can only take care of myself and offer comfort to others.  I can feed the fight against this illness.  I can speak out.  Loudly if I must.  I can be the truth behind the lies that ED feeds its sufferers.  It is not always the easy way, but still I fight.  Not only for myself but for my family, my friends and for those who can no longer fight.  The people who die because of their eating disorders.  My fighting is the only way I can shove back.  I don't want to be lonely, afraid, sick, tired, numb or empty.  I want to be full of life and sometimes that includes anger, sadness, pain and regret.  I'll take it.  All of it.

Live on,

-Kristy