This is the week.
Two years ago, my life, shifted, altered, ruined in permanence.
A word I have adjusted to.
A Disease so catastrophic to the body, one’s heart, soul, and mind become stuck, interrupted forever. There is no return. A Disability is a loss. A beginning with no end.
Yet, I am supposed to accept it, continue to live as I deteriorate and now losing my House (I have Ninety-Days to Relocate). *My Landlord decided he wants to sell the Property (which from the bottom of me, I know is a lie. I have resided here for 6 years. His ‘Non Renewable Lease’ decision is due to my Ex-Husband).
So, once again in Dysautonomia, I have to start over as if becoming Disabled wasn’t enough.
I have to let another life pass away.
First, when I was eight. (Molestation. For A Year)
Second, when I was nineteen. (Suicide Survivor x3)
Third, when I was twenty-three (Total Abdominal Hysterectomy).
I thought I was finished with reincarnating in waking hours.
Dysautonomia ended who I was.
This concept of ‘Passing Way’ what once was, is something recent I’ve acquired.
My new Counselor educated me on the process of Grieving Dysautonomia (which I have not).
This Week, I have to begin the process of my past, Pre-Dysautonomia.
What’s left, but a girl who is losing her house (after six years), can never return to Teaching College, Receive a M.F.A then Ph.D., Travel the World.