As you can probably tell, I have not been posting much lately. Something happened that completely turned my world upside down. If you have followed my blog for a while, you know I have always wanted to share both the beautiful and the difficult parts of my life. This is probably the hardest blog I have ever written. I lost someone very important to me.
When I was 13, I wrote a blog called Dating Dilemmas. At the time, people were shocked that a teenager with Cerebral Palsy was even thinking about dating.
You can read my original Dating Dilemmas blog here:
The blog caught the attention of Dynavox, the company that made my first communication device. They interviewed me and even brought in a therapist who specialized in dating and sexuality for people with disabilities. Her name was Dr. Danielle Sheypuk.
You can watch the interview that started all of this here:
When they asked her if she had any advice for me, she had plenty.
I loved everything she had to say, so I decided to schedule a session with her. At first, I thought she simply answered questions about dating and sex. By the end of that first appointment, she explained what therapy actually was. I had never really thought about it before.
The rest is history.
Dr. Sheypuk had Spinal Muscular Atrophy, so she understood my life in a way very few people ever could. She lived with 24 hour personal care assistants just like I do. She knew the challenges that most people never even think about.
When I was getting ready to move away for college, she walked me through how to hire, train, and manage my caregivers. I honestly don’t think I could have made that transition without her guidance.
A few years ago, I even flew to New York just to meet her in person. She was that important to me.
She also became my wing woman.
Dating with a disability comes with challenges that most people never have to consider. Something as simple as cuddling or kissing can require planning when you rely on caregivers for physical assistance. For example, making out in my wheelchair is nearly impossible, so I need to be transferred into bed. Whether I was simply snuggling during a movie or navigating a more intimate relationship, Dr. Sheypuk always helped me figure out how to communicate my needs to my assistants while still protecting my privacy and independence.
She somehow made conversations that could have felt awkward seem completely normal.
But our relationship became so much more than talking about dating.
To be honest, I live with depression.
Dr. Sheypuk was the person who helped me through some of my darkest moments. She always seemed to know exactly what I needed to hear. She helped me build safety plans for the days when things felt impossible. She reminded me that asking for help was never weakness.
She was my therapist, but she was also my mentor, my advocate, and one of the safest people I have ever known.
Then, without any warning, she passed away in her sleep.
There was no chance to say goodbye.
I cannot even describe how devastating that has been.
It took me almost a month to find the courage to start looking for another therapist. Every time I thought about replacing her, it felt wrong, even though I knew that is not what she would have wanted for me.
I finally signed up for BetterHelp and found a therapist who has been helping me work through my grief. Then something happened that gave me a little bit of hope.
My BetterHelp therapist recommended another therapist who specializes in the same field as Dr. Sheypuk. She also has a disability.
That part means so much to me.
There is something different about talking to someone who does not need every little part of disability explained first. Someone who already understands that independence can still involve needing help. Someone who understands the weird, complicated, sometimes funny reality of dating, relationships, caregivers, privacy, and everything else that comes with living in a disabled body.
For now, I am seeing both therapists.
One is helping me through the grief of losing someone who was such a huge part of my life. The other is helping me reconnect with the kind of support Dr. Sheypuk gave me for so many years.
And I am finally letting both of them in.
That has been harder than I expected. Dr. Sheypuk knew me for so long that I never had to start from the beginning with her. She knew my history, my relationships, my disability, my depression, and all the complicated little pieces of my life. Opening myself up to someone new after losing her felt scary. Part of me did not want anyone else in that space.
But I am learning that letting new therapists help me does not take anything away from what Dr. Sheypuk and I had.
I can miss her like crazy and still let someone new get to know me. I can trust other people while still loving and grieving the person who helped me for so many years.
I am basically building my team again.
I do not expect either of them to replace her. Nobody ever could.
But I am starting to realize something that took me a while to understand.
Dr. Sheypuk already gave me so many skills and tools over the years. She helped me learn how to advocate for myself, manage my care, navigate relationships, protect my mental health, and actually become an adult.
At first, after she died, I felt completely hopeless. I kept thinking, how am I supposed to do this without her?
It took time for me to realize that in so many ways, she already prepared me to.
She helped me become the adult I am now. Now I can find these things in myself. I still need support. I still need therapy. I still have moments when I desperately wish I could talk to her and hear exactly what she would say. But I also have years of things she taught me inside of me.
Grief takes a long time.
I am learning that it does not suddenly disappear one morning. It changes. Some days it still hits me hard, and other days I can think about her and smile instead of immediately falling apart.
Every day, it hurts a little less.
She will always be a part of me.
Right now, I am just trying to get myself back on track, using the support I have now and all of the tools she spent years teaching me. And part of getting back on track is allowing myself to trust again. It is letting these new therapists see the messy parts of me, the scared parts, and the parts that are still grieving.
I think Dr. Sheypuk would probably be pretty proud of me for doing that.
Sometimes moving forward does not mean leaving someone behind. Sometimes it means realizing that they helped give you everything you need to keep going.
Megan Fry 