Let It Burn then Let It Go

“It’s time to release Chinese Lanterns”, my Aunt exclaims to my extended family. It is 9pm on the second night of our annual ski (or stay inside by the fire) trip at Wisp Resort in McHenry, MD. She pulls out ten or so colorful paper lanterns and tells us to choose one and grab a partner. We walk out onto the deck in our snow boots and feel the chill of mountain air on our cheeks. Small snowflakes are falling and the only light on the deck is the glow from the kitchen in the house.

My “lantern-releasing” partner is my husband, Dave. My Aunt tells us to unfold our lantern and force it open as you would a folded trash bag. With a swift wrist movement, our lantern is open and upright toward the sky- ready for flight. We light the fuel cell and let it burn into a large flame. She tells us to keep hold of it until we feel it pull up. She says it will release when it’s ready.

Someone once told me that when diagnosed with a chronic illness, the person can experience the 5 stages of grief as would a person mourning the loss of a loved one. At 16, I knew enough on the seriousness of my disease to know that my life would never be the same again. 

The 5 Stages of Grief are:

1.       Denial and Isolation

2.       Anger

3.       Bargaining

4.       Depression

5.       Acceptance

While not necessarily in that order, I’ve experienced all of these and then some.  I’ve gone through these stages over the course of a year, a month, even a day. By eating irresponsible amounts of candy, I’ve denied my disease and by holding it all in, I’ve isolated myself from friends and family. When I reached anger, I would throw fits of rage in my mind, imagining smashing every fragile plate, bowl, and cup in the cupboard. At times, I’d bargain and ask, “What could I have done differently to change my circumstance”? And the depression…well, that has several stages in and of itself. I’ve found myself falling in and crawling my way back out of stage 4 at so many moments it’s hard to keep track. Moments when my blood sugar’s been stubbornly high for days, moments when I’ve felt a tingle in my feet and the fear of amputation kicks in, moments when I just feel like I can’t do this for the rest of my life, let alone, another day.

The majority of my time since my diagnosis has been spent bouncing from stages 1-4, in whatever order my mind and my blood sugar would take me. Stage 5 has been harder to reach and to maintain. There have been times where I felt that I had finally reached acceptance, times when I felt like I could handle this, I could survive – times when I felt I could just let it all go.  Never knowing how long the feeling would last, I’d grasp the emotion and save it for a rainy day.

2011 was the first year since my diagnosis that more of my days were spent in Stage 5. 10 years of running from stage to stage, and I finally made it to a point where, if I started to feel myself taking a step backward, I could easily dig through the pain and uncover the peace I'd saved for these moments. How did I get here? How did I get to this place that at times, I never thought I'd get to? I trudged, cried, and cursed my way through denial, isolation, anger, bargaining, and depression. I had to let it burn in order to let it go.

Standing across from Dave, our hands holding on to the rim of the lantern, the flame is high and bright now, filling our lantern with hot air. I feel it begin to pull up towards the sky, it’s ready to take flight. I think of where I’ve been, look to the sky, make a wish and let go.