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Joanie Madsen

Making the Invisible, Visible


I vividly recall asking a dear one what having type 1 diabetes felt like? She replied the closest she could get to having me understand was chronic PMS. I felt a familiar shock wave with imagining this physical sensation never ceasing.


To the outside world no one would know that she has lived with diabetes for over four decades now. Testing, trying to keep one step ahead to not subject her body to the highs and lows that are part of the often rocky diabetic terrain she must navigate daily.


It often feels invisible to the outside world because she’s handling it, without drawing attention to herself. It is her way of life and it requires many extra steps simply to eat and calculate the correct amount of insulin that her body will be requiring to balance with her food intake. She truly is a scientist in the laboratory of her earth suit.


There are countless people who are facing these kinds of tremendous daily challenges; whether it’s their health, the well-being of a loved one, a diagnosis, a loss of any kind.


It occurred to me that this is how I experience traversing the world with the loss of my son. It is something that is not obvious nor even noticed when you first meet me because there is no outward indicator. Yet, I’m living with this ginormous Douglas size hole in my heart that can never be filled. It can be massaged at times, made to feel more like something I am discovering how to integrate and to carry, yet it magnifies and colors every aspect of my existence as it should.


I wouldn’t have it any other way, yet it is fascinating to observe how over the years, it feels more like it begins to takes up space in the back of the balcony for most. Yet, for me, Douglas will always occupy a cherished seat that is front row and center.


This is where I have learned that I desire to share how I feel with those in my inner circles and remind myself that everyone is facing their own invisible pain, sorrow, challenges and even happiness and joy too.


Perhaps pausing long enough to poke around within, to do some inquiry, might add some needed skin and bones to this invisible self that is simply asking to become visible when we are ready and not a moment before.


Sanctuary

Suppose it’s easy to slip into another’s green skin, bury yourself in leaves

and wait for a breaking, a breaking open, a breaking out. I have, before, been

tricked into believing I could be both an I and the world. The great eye

of the world is both gaze and gloss. To be swallowed by being seen. A dream.

To be made whole by being not a witness, but witnessed. ~ Ada Limón

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