I never had time to grieve. In a world where it is increasingly difficult to find “space” and “time” and where it seems we don’t know how to cope with stress, who has time to grieve? It’s a gripping moment when people find themselves facing fate, especially one they have no control over — especially one involving life. There’s this sort of resolve that happens within oneself, and while her heart sinks, her will hardens. She stands taller, teeth clenched, and suddenly, determination; no, strength; no, courage; no….bravery replaces exhaustion.  When I learned the fate of my kidneys, at 25, this exact moment was what happened to me. There was no time to grieve. There was no time for crying and sulking and mourning and pity. We had to act, to keep going, to soldier on. I had to show strength not just to convince myself that I had it, but to convince and ease those around me.  To show them that this was no big deal. A walk in the park — a detour. I had to lead by example and prove to them that I’ve got this and that I was brave so that those around me could be brave with me. I not only had to protect myself, I felt a burning responsibility to protect the feelings of those around me, and now, two years later, I realize all of this has severely backfired for me.  Being strong is depleting. It takes every ounce out of you, and once you’ve established this role — this strength in character, it is tough to shy away from it. It has become expected of you and to show vulnerability now will frighten people. But I’ve realized, two years later, that there is no strength without weakness. I now find myself exhausted beyond measure and in dire need of a crutch. I find myself desperately searching through the myriad of people I know who I can just cry to and feel sheltered without having to protect them. To just be organically raw and candid. I realized that I had and have every right to grieve and that grieving was very much part of the process of moving on. It’s funny to say, but I realized that I’m allowed to grieve.  People mistake fortitude for healthfulness. When it is not blatant that one is ill, people assume you are well, and it is a delicate balance between fighting for normalcy and seeking for consideration — a balance I have not yet found. Now though, I strive for the courage to be raw when I need to and recognize that I am worthy of care and consideration. It is okay to feel helpless and to want to give up. I am allowed not to be okay and that part of the process of healing — to become stronger — is to grieve.