17/08/2026
Thank you to Lain for her recent personal post. It’s a reminder that life is never linear, we don’t know what others may be experiencing and to be kind 💓xo
When people share their stories with us, it’s not for a pity party. Being vulnerable creates an opportunity for someone else to resonate, feel understood, and perhaps feel a little less alone.
Admittedly, our MFEP team doesn’t often share our own challenges. Maybe we need to show a little more of the vulnerability that so many of you bravely share with us.
I’ve certainly felt a heaviness over the last few months. I have recently had another autoimmune diagnosis. I have shared a bit about having Sjögren’s Disease in one of our MFEP+Me podcast episodes (you can listen here https://open.spotify.com/episode/2ymKlFzjF2q5XMywBxAygN?si=2_BbugwITW6a0mR4HxHPDg&utm_source=copy-link ). The recent diagnosis of Lupus unfortunately also very closely followed with a diagnosis of a rare lung disease, which has been caused by Sjögren’s. It means that I will now start immunosuppressant therapy.
This month also marked 2 years since my Mum died and this week we laid our 16 year old dog to rest. It’s been a lot. Compounded grief… grief on top of grief. Compounded grief is when one loss doesn’t happen in isolation, but lands on top of other losses, changes or unresolved pain. Sometimes, the weight of all those layers can feel heavier than any one loss on its own.
On my slow walk today, I found myself thinking about the Dual Process Model of Grief. It recognises that grief isn’t something we experience in a straight line. We move back and forth between feeling and facing the loss, and turning towards life- like doing everyday things, finding connection, experiencing joy, and simply living. Those two things can happen at exactly the same time. Grief and joy can coexist… I have always loved this mantra. It encapsulates the dual process model of grief so well. I can be sad for what and who have gone but still show up for myself and my loved ones to enjoy what life has to offer. I can have a heavy heart and still notice the beauty in an ordinary moment.
That’s where I’ve also been thinking about glimmers, something we shared every session of our grief and loss group- those small moments that bring a sense of safety, connection, peace or joy. They can be little reminders that even in difficult seasons, there are moments of light. A song. A message. A walk in the sunshine. A familiar smell. A wild flower. A laugh when you weren’t expecting one. A moment where, even briefly, you feel okay. Today I felt the sun on my face, noticed the beauty in the ocean, looked at photos of our Chili Dog and noticed the native flowers on my walk.
Chronic illness brings a grief for the life you lived before. It can be a heavy grief when you carry the pressure to be the person you were before you became sick. Diagnoses of diseases and chronic illness change our lives, our relationships, our expectations and, sometimes, our sense of who we are.
And perhaps that’s another reminder that you never really know what someone else is carrying. Always be kind.
By sharing, I guess in a lot of ways I am personally looking for comraderie- for others to lead the way and say ‘I’ve been there. You will be ok.’ And on the flip side, if I share with you I want to be able to show that ‘if I can do it, so can you’.
For anyone reading this who is carrying something heavy right now: you don’t have to choose between grieving and living. There is room for both. We can do hard (and joyful) things ❤️❤️❤️
💗 Lain
