On Grief, Growing Up and Gratitude: Thoughts for NYE 2017

Hello my lovely readers

I write this rare resurfacing of a blog entry not from the UK but from Canada, where Mama and I are staying with my grandparents in order to offer support to them whilst Grandi is in hospital. Having just returned from a visit with him, I'm now sitting in the lounge of their apartment, gazing out of the (triple-glazed) windows at the late-afternoon sunshine as it hits the snow. I did much the same this morning at sunrise, so I’ve made that the featured picture.

Why? 

It strikes the sentimental poet in me that this image is the perfect summary for the past 365 days of my life - a year in which I have learnt much about the necessary coexistence of apparent opposites. So today's post ponders on some of those, best summarised in the first half of its title: 'Grief, Growing Up, and Gratitude'.

This year, as I wrote when I last came back to the blogosphere for my birthday, and also in one of my summer posts about theatre, I have been repeatedly reminded that beauty can be found amidst (and alongside) bereavement. Saying goodbye to four more special souls, the most in any one of the last sixteen years, has been hard. Yet it was this which inspired me to take on perhaps my most significant challenge yet - walking 100m at Parallel London in September in memory of all the people I've "lost" - whilst still dealing with chronic pain as a result of my spasms. 
  

The intensity of the grief as an abstract concept as well as for individual people also prompted me to seek specific support. Through that work, I have found tools to tackle other traumas, and to begin talking about them. I won’t do so here, largely because I wasn’t the only one involved and they aren’t just my stories to tell, but they relate to the second part of this post’s title, ‘Growing Up’ – and offer me a link to the third, ‘Gratitude’.

The thing is, thanks to starting to talk (and tap!), I discovered that the spasms which have caused me so much physical and emotional pain over the last eleven years had a very specific source. I internalised (and physicalised) my response to events in my childhood, because we were actively discouraged from having discussions. That became clear only in October, when I talked, and the spasms went away. Since then, I’ve been tentatively exploring the physical possibilities of reclaiming my sense of self, and self-worth.

This is not, however, an overcoming narrative – not least because, in many ways, I am just at the beginning of my recovery, especially emotionally. As I wrote on social media, when I at last went climbing again a few weeks ago, I’m halfway up the wall. I know I still have a long way to go (particularly in processing the mental impact of those experiences now I no longer have the pain as their physical proxy) but I can also take stock of how far I have climbed – which brings me, and this post, full circle.

Those physical changes were what enabled me to fly again, and Mama and me to get to Canada when Gramma and Grandi need us. So, in celebrating that, I am acknowledging both gratitude and grief – as well as growing up, actually, because the country I find myself in as 2017 draws to a close was a huge part of my childhood. My feelings about being here are extremely mixed and muddled. That somehow seems apt, though, since (like the sunshine on the snow) those two adjectives capture the essence of my year. Consequently, I’m going to conclude by adding another ‘m’ to the list – ‘motivating’ – and thereby end this post with a triplet to match the title.

I’m not sure what 2018 will bring. It’ll most likely be as mixed as its predecessor; but I’m motivated to muddle through, inspired by gratitude for all the amazing people I have around me.

I hope you can find a way to do that too.

Love, strength, solidarity, and spoons, as always

Jx

Snowy sunrise

#SeasonalSonnets 2017: 9th December

Hello my lovely readers

A late post tonight because I've just got back from the party of a primary school friend. That feels apt, though, as it's also the anniversary of another primary school friend - my dear Gemma Watson, who passed away sixteen years ago today.

Having mentioned in yesterday's post that my mental health hasn't been that stable, this #SeasonalSonnets entry gives you one of the reasons why. It's sadder, I suppose, than the others have been so far. Yet as much as it acknowledges the intensity of my emotions, I also want to say that there are many smiles - not least because, at Colin's party tonight, I was able to be carried in so that my chair could be lifted up the steps. That isn't something I'd have fathomed possible almost literally since primary school, so it feels fitting, and I like to think Gemma was with me.

Sadness can definitely coexist with joy - and Christmas can be painted on a bridge in summer, which is what she did in the picture below.

Love and spoons

Jx

9th December 2017

I’ve read that grief is love turned inside out –

if so, I guess my heart must be chock full.

Why do I sense, then, that I’ve lost my clout,

my arms and eyes are heavy; my head dull?

I want to mark your memory with smiles,

since you deserve them far more than my tears,

I’ve travelled solo, though, so many miles;

each day has seemed as long as sixteen years.

Surely this sense of numbness should have passed

and let me add your tunes to my own song,

but each new grief intensifies the last –

and fifteen others have now joined your throng.

I still hope, glibly, that soon time will heal

tho’ it does naught to stem the ache I feel.

#SeasonalSonnets 2017: 8th December

Hello my lovely readers

An earlier post today, and a diversion from the weather, because I've just arrived back in London after just over two weeks up at uni. So it felt fitting and necessary to write about the people who made that fortnight possible, both physically and emotionally: my PAs.

I also wanted to acknowledge that, for all my positivity around physicality, I've not been entirely mentally healthy. This has a variety of causes, most of which I'm not comfortable sharing here, but one I am is actually the sudden physical changes. After eleven years of chronic pain, having space for a sense of yourself outside of it is more than a little overwhelming. I'm okay, I'm of course so grateful, and I've got support to deal with everything that's happening. It just seemed important to be honest here, because social media has a tendency to paint quite a binary picture (and you know how I feel about binaries!).

So I guess this is a #SeasonalSonnets entry about how things are usually not 'either/or' but 'both together', as well as a homage to my helpers.

Love and spoons as always

Jx

8^th December 2017

I write this morning’s* verse as rhyming thanks

for everyone who’s helped me these two weeks.

My PAs who have given me the chance

for uni stints which, I think, have been peak.

Yes, there has been quite a lot of juggle,

as we have worked to get schedules to match,

but, tho’ at times it’s felt too much a struggle,

there’s always been someone prepared to catch.

I know my mental health has not been easy

(in spite of my improvements physically).

This shows my gratitude that you were breezy

and stopped me sinking when I’ve felt at sea.

Although we have not long been a whole team

I hope you know how much each of you means.

*I’m aware it’s no longer morning as I upload this...

Copyright Jessi Parrott December 2017