The best worst year of my life

I often feel resolute in describing these past months since January as the worst year of my life. In a lot of ways that is actually true but I’m not sure that using just those words to describe it is the most accurate representation of what I’ve been through. I’ve been grieving since April. Actively grieving, not just having a cognitive awareness that I have lost things but in the active stages of processing the grief I have endured. It has remained active because the loss has yet to cease. When I’m feeling like making light of the things that have happened this year I find myself quipping that I didn’t even realize that it was humanly possible to lose 4 loved ones in a single year.

It has been painful.

The grief that I have endured has also not just been my grief to hold. The loss that has created these feelings has been mine to share with a lot of people around me both known and unknown. It has created stronger connections in some areas and completely severed others. The knowing of just how difficult this year has been for me and this desire to define it as the worst year of my life often has me thinking back to the year I lost my mom and asking myself, “Is this really worse than that?” In some ways yes, and in others I would have to say no. For so many years of my life I was not actually actively connected to my emotional experience and so while things were bad, I wasn’t feeling that in the same way I have been this year.

I also find myself vacillating between the idea of attempting to find meaning or a reason for why things are the way they are and taking a more matter of fact approach of “This is just how it is”. If I had to find meaning in the last year (which, lets be honest I’ve already done), I would say that the reason I have had to endure what I have is so that I could learn how to be more open instead of shutting myself off like I’ve always done before. Instead of letting my grief force me into myself and grow smaller I have allowed myself to expand in the face of it. I have learned to get more comfortable with sharing my feelings with the people around me. I have accepted that grief is messy and unexplainable and has a life of its own that I simply cannot control. I have come to understand that my body has limits to how much it can endure and also in the same breath has absolutely none. I’m beginning to learn that shutting down is a choice. And, I’m not saying that is an easy choice or that everyone feels like they have a choice but it is a choice. Shutting down and letting your grief consume you (or pocketing it for later rather than feel it) is an easy thing to do for a lot of people. It was the path I took toward grief for 20 years. I have found myself thinking or even telling myself or saying out loud in the past year that “I can’t do this anymore” or “I don’t know how much more of this I can take” and while true, I haven’t actually found that breaking point yet. I have learned that I would do almost anything for those that I love and care about and I have also had to ask myself the question “Am I doing this for me or for them?"

I’ve always known the price to pay for growth was difficulty and struggle and prior to this year I wouldn’t have included this specific type of difficulty in that price but I’m learning that it is. I have chosen to go toward my loved ones in times of struggle. I have chosen to let myself feel when I need to feel. I have come to understand in a new way that my default mode of operation is still to shut down. I have had to learn how to fight against that default. I have let myself experience joy when it feels necessary. I have allowed myself to be grateful for the things I still have and to let my grief and loss teach me more about just how precious life is while we have it.

My most recent loss was the loss of my beloved cat Doobie that I had had since she was born. She was 13. She had medical issues her whole life starting with bladder stones when she was only a couple of years old. In late 2021 she was diagnosed with diabetes and I had to manage that with twice daily insulin injections. I took everything in stride though because I do not take pet ownership lightly. My pets are part of my family and I care for them in the same ways that I would care for any living thing. I learned how to give injections. I learned how to test her blood sugar by pricking her ear and collecting the sample. My life became tethered to her diagnosis. She had to receive twice daily injections at 12 hour increments and she couldn’t miss even a single dose. In August of this year she was diagnosed with small cell lymphoma and an autoimmune disorder that the vets couldn’t specifically pinpoint. I thought we would have a couple more years together but it turned out that it was just a couple of months. At the end of October I noticed she wasn’t acting like herself and learned on November 1st that her health had declined rapidly including pancreatitis and kidney failure. Every bone in my body said do whatever you need to do to keep her alive. We’ll think about the consequences later. I was on the phone with my partner when he asked me to think about whether my desire to keep her alive was coming from my own fear and grief around letting her go or actually the best thing for her. I knew in that moment that I needed to let her go because there wasn’t actually a clear path forward and we were talking about doing things to extend her life by just days and she was so sick. When the vet asked me what decision I had come to my answer came as a sob and a declaration that I had but I couldn’t say it out loud. That was the most difficult decision I have ever had to make in my life. Coming back to my house without her made me feel sick. Nothing about my space felt okay or right and I was struck in that moment with some softness for my father who decided to move us within months of my mom’s passing. I understand now how much he probably hated being in that home without her. When even your windowsill can be a reminder of something that always was and is no longer how can you move on from that?

I will be forever grateful to Doobie because she honestly taught me how to love. I’ve never loved anything as much as I loved that cat and we had a truly special bond. She loved me just as much as I loved her and I’ve never shared that with an animal before. She taught me how far I will go to care for those I love and that I will make the right decision for them if push comes to shove. She also taught me to care deeply about those around me. I will have those reminders of her for as long as I live and I am so grateful for that. Her passing has taught me how much of myself I gave to her care. How much of myself I had given up to put her needs above my own. Don’t get me wrong, if I could trade those things to have her back and healthy I would in a heartbeat but life doesn’t work that way so I have to find meaning in what is.

This year has taught me how to move through grief instead of running away from it. It has taught me to remember what abundance there is in life. This year has taught me the importance of vulnerability in new ways and how integral that is to creating closeness in relationship to others. So, this is me, taking my hat off to 2023 for being the best worst year of my life.