If I let it take up normal space, become a natural part of my background, then surely the crushing grief I feel when I allow myself to really look at it and all the things, good (mobility safely) and difficult (disability made visible with all that entails, the losses, the challenges, the inability to hide my challenges) are allowed through my barriers, then surely, acceptance and even appreciation will follow. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow.
It's like Frost's poem about the death of a young boy. We cannot look too long, tarry there. We must keep moving forward.
So, grief trickles in and ebbs away, never staying long enough for me to rail against the situation.
Being home with my three children and corralling them in between my naps, watching them grow into caregivers of me and our furry family members with a grace reminiscent of my maternal grandmother: I fully recognize that there are many, many blessings attendant with the hassles, frustrations and disappointments of permanent Disabilty. It is hard to spend any appreciable time lamenting the losses before I am picked up (metaphorically, of course) and deposited into my children's rich, mythical worlds.
I am not full of grace, though, and find that soft serve ice cream cones a few times a week are necessary to put out my dragon's fire. Would that it were whiskey, but I am not foolish enough to go there. That would only fuel the fire.
Ice cream cones are happiness inducers.