January 2024 – Peace, Love & Grief

Peace, Love, and Grief – From Seeds to Seedlings

I have been here a while.
I am alone.
I have learned to be okay with that.

Here, it feels warm.
Here, it feels safe.
Here, I can just be…
No worrying…
No crying…
No feeling…
No life.

I must find my courage.
I must break out of this shell of isolation,
And like a seed,
I must push out of the comfort of my own creation
And move toward the sun…
To places unknown.
~ Linda, January 2024

Losing someone is not easy, whether that loss is due to death or relationships deteriorating. Losing someone with whom you shared every aspect of your life and thought you would continue that for the rest of your life is even harder. Readjusting your vision for the future can feel overwhelming. Staring ahead at all the years in front of you, without that person by your side, can feel like an impossible path.

When Bruce died, I completely imploded. My world and everything I thought I knew about my life crumbled in an instant. For months, I wandered through my world in a fog. I did things out of muscle memory, but I wouldn’t call it living.

I was eating and breathing… sleeping and exercising… paying the bills and going to work… but that was it. There was no joy… no excitement… no hope. The only things I felt were sorrow and abandonment… grief and loneliness. Sadness became my constant companion.

I did all the things that were supposed to bring healing. I went to therapy. I went to support groups. I journaled. I expressed myself through poetry, art, and gardening. I created scrapbooks of our life together, including all of our correspondence through the years from emails to love notes to cards.

I did “all the things” that were supposed to help… And as I completed each one, I checked it off “the list”. Still, I struggled to move forward and actually start to live again.

Thankfully, Bruce left a wonderful legacy behind of spirituality and healthy self-love. For years, I have worked hard to follow the trail he blazed ahead of me. I started reading the books he read. I began listening to the speakers he admired… I started following his example of a morning meditation/grounding time… And after a while, things slowly… very slowly started to shift.

I still avoided crowds. I still didn’t want to seek out new friendships. I was still more comfortable alone. In an effort to never experience this kind of pain again, I stayed inside my own self-induced isolation. The solace I found there felt safe – lonely and not exciting – but safe.

This last year, though, I came to realize something new. While I may have needed this self-isolation in the beginning as I was trying to find my way through this hurt and grief, somewhere along the line, it became unhealthy.

Like a seed in the earth, I felt safe and warm in my own little space all by myself. There was a certain amount of growth and change (germination, if you will) that needed to happen there. However, I was not meant to stay there indefinitely. For life to continue, I had to push myself out of that comfort zone, toward the unknown. As I came to learn, when the timing was right, that journey… that push to the unknown landed me in the sunshine… nurtured by the love of my family and friends, I am flourishing and growing once again.

It hasn’t been all roses and sunshine. (See what I did there? Lol!) But I don’t regret a single step. This is life – the bad, the good, the boring, the exciting, the sadness, and the joy… All of it… Every crazy unknown step… After all, it takes both rain and sunshine for any of us to finally bloom and share the true beauty of our lives with the world around us.
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Grief changes us. This journey is not an easy path for anyone. That is why I share the mistakes I have made, as well as what I have felt and learned along the way. Even sharing our stories of love and life can be helpful on this journey. We know learning to function on this new path is hard, and it is easy to lose our way or forget that we don’t have to do it alone. I don’t think any of us chose to be here… I know I didn’t. Yet, this is where life has landed us for now… This is where we are. Our lives are now filled with challenges we never imagined and emotions that feel overwhelming at times. So often, I think I have it all figured out, only to find that isn’t true at all. Despite the years since Bruce passed, my life is still filled with challenges, as I am sure yours is too. Learning to take it one day/moment at a time is all any of us can do.

Thankfully, I know I am not alone… None of us are… We have each other. It is our love for those we have lost that brings us together into this space where we can share our experiences. I believe the sharing of our stories is so important… I believe it is healing. Do you have a story to tell? I believe we can find courage and strength in one another’s stories. I believe we can offer each other empathy when we open our hearts to one another. I don’t know about you, but it makes me feel better knowing there are others out there who understand what I mean, and what I feel. It’s nice to know I’m not alone… Maybe this strikes a chord with you too. We would all love to hear your thoughts or your story. If you would like to share your experience or if you need a helping hand or maybe a virtual hug, let us know. We are here for you.

Please do… This is our community. To share your thoughts and experiences go to the comments and leave your message.*

This is a weekly blog, for daily affirmations we have a Facebook page of the same name. Join us daily at www.facebook.com/peaceloveandgrief

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Peace, Love, and Grief – Tears

“What soap is for the body; tears are for the soul.” ~ Old Jewish Proverb

Tears… I can’t think of any other image that is a better representation of grief than tears. Tears have become such a part of my day-to-day life since Bruce died. At first, my eyes were constantly brimming with tears that spilled out and down my cheeks at the most inopportune moments. As time has passed, though, I have learned a little more self-control, and those same tears are relegated to quiet, private moments when I am alone with my thoughts… and my grief.

I wish I could say that society understands and is compassionate when it comes to tears, but that really cannot be said as a blanket statement. In my experience, I have found that society may be patient with a few quiet tears spilling down your cheek… once. However, anything more than that, and people become uncomfortable… Then, the go-to response seems to be trying to get the crier to stop.

Even as a child, that message was perfectly clear. I can remember either being made fun of when I cried (shaming), or I was told that if I didn’t stop, I would be given a reason to cry (threats). Let me just say that neither of those approaches were helpful. Those responses just led me to keep secrets… Secrets of shame… Secrets of hurt… Lots and lots of secrets never shared… never expressed… never released… and never processed.

“Crying feels cleansing, a way to purge pent-up emotions so they don’t lodge in our bodies as stress symptoms such as fatigue or pain.” ~ Martha Creek, Martha’s Pearls: A Spiritual Approach to Life

But… my grandfather… My dear, sweet Pop, (as all the grandkids called him), had a different approach… a loving and compassionate approach. This dear, sweet man would simply take me in his arms and hold me… Never saying a word, he would just hold me… in a space that always felt safe.

That always worked. That always stopped the tears. Somehow, he understood some things that no one else did… First, he understood that my tears were not a reflection on him. He didn’t need to feel any kind of way about my tears. He didn’t need to be embarrassed or annoyed. My tears were not about him.

Second, he knew that nothing he said was going to be of any real help, but his actions could make all the difference in the world. All I needed in those moments was a safe space to feel all those things that were too overwhelming to be processed so quickly. He understood that there was a safe comfort to be found in his arms, and he was willing to offer that whenever needed… What an amazing blessing!

When I was in my late teens, though, Pop died… My safe space was gone.

At that time, I had just married my first husband, so one might assume he would have taken on that role of being my safe space. However, as I’ve written before, that entire marriage was not safe… Instead of being a source of comfort and safety, his behavior was usually the cause of the tears… and chaos… and hurt.

Thankfully, a short time after the end of that marriage, I met Bruce – dear, sweet, gentle Bruce… My gentle giant. Once again, whenever I found myself with tears in my eyes and in need of comfort and compassion, Bruce would take me in his arms, and just like Pop all those years ago, he simply held me. I can’t even begin to describe the comfort and safety I always felt in his arms. No matter the reason for my tears, he never judged, or told me to stop crying. He never shushed me or walked away. He never shamed me or threatened me. He simply sat with me and held me… What a gift!

Once again, I knew what it was like to receive comfort and love from someone else in my moments of pain and hurt… Then, suddenly, he was gone, too.

Once again, I found myself alone… And that is where I have been since that terrible night 11 years ago. In the beginning of this journey, that was devastating. There was the pain and grief of losing Bruce… and I felt so alone. I didn’t know how to ask for the comfort that I needed so badly.

I cried and I cried… I cried a lot.

Of course, there were a lot of people who were uncomfortable with all those tears. There were a lot of people who either stayed away or tried to convince me to stop crying and move on – not understanding that grief isn’t that simple.

At the same time, there were those around me who knew… who understood. These loving angels sat with me… they held me… they cried with me… they remembered with me… they grieved with me. They brought me comfort in a way that I could not do on my own.

I think there are times when we all need that… We not only need to cry and process the pain, but we also need others to sit with us and share that pain. It may sound crazy, but there is a comfort in knowing that we are not alone, especially when our world has been decimated.

So… to all the angels in my life who have shared my tears and my pain… who have sat with me as I cried and held me in your arms – Thank you! That is not a simple task, and I am eternally grateful for your loving spirit.

And… to all those out there still shedding tears of grief, it’s not only okay to cry, but also healthy to cry… Don’t let anyone shame you or talk you out of expressing your feelings this way… Those are outdated misconceptions on their part. *

Instead, take comfort in knowing that, “Crying is also essential to resolve grief when waves of tears periodically come over us after we experience a loss. Tears help us process the loss so we can keep living with open hearts” **… And isn’t THAT the goal? … To continue living and to do it with an open heart?

* “A study performed at the University of Florida found that crying is more effective than any antidepressant on the market. A good cry improved the mood of 88.8% of weepers with only 8.4% reporting that crying made them feel worse.” ~ Martha Creek, Martha’s Pearls: A Spiritual Approach to Life

** Martha Creek, Martha’s Pearls: A Spiritual Approach to Life

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Grief changes us. This journey is not an easy path for anyone. That is why I share the mistakes I have made, as well as what I have felt and learned along the way. Even sharing our stories of love and life can be helpful on this journey. We know learning to function on this new path is hard, and it is easy to lose our way or forget that we don’t have to do it alone. I don’t think any of us chose to be here… I know I didn’t. Yet, this is where life has landed us for now… This is where we are. Our lives are now filled with challenges we never imagined and emotions that feel overwhelming at times. So often, I think I have it all figured out, only to find that isn’t true at all. Despite the years since Bruce passed, my life is still filled with challenges, as I am sure yours is too. Learning to take it one day/moment at a time is all any of us can do.

Thankfully, I know I am not alone… None of us are… We have each other. It is our love for those we have lost that brings us together into this space where we can share our experiences. I believe the sharing of our stories is so important… I believe it is healing. Do you have a story to tell? I believe we can find courage and strength in one another’s stories. I believe we can offer each other empathy when we open our hearts to one another. I don’t know about you, but it makes me feel better knowing there are others out there who understand what I mean, and what I feel. It’s nice to know I’m not alone… Maybe this strikes a chord with you too. We would all love to hear your thoughts or your story. If you would like to share your experience or if you need a helping hand or maybe a virtual hug, let us know. We are here for you.

Peace, Love, and Grief – Still Can’t Say Good-by

“You wandered down the lane and far away,
Leaving me a song that will not die.”
~ Nat King Cole, Stardust

Friday was the day… The eleventh year marking Bruce’s passing. I mentioned last week that I have been in some very intense therapy and was hoping for a different (aka less depressing) day… Overall, I have to say that it was. I was sad. There were some tears… but the overwhelming depression and guilt at not being able to save him that awful night were not a part of the day. (Thank you, God, for that much-needed miracle.)

In the past, I have always taken the day off work knowing how my emotions tend to run on this day, but not this year. This year, I worked – albeit from home, but I worked. Our office is undergoing major growth and change. We are in the middle of a (wonderful but difficult) storm, and all hands are needed on deck. So, between the faith in my latest therapy and the understanding of the situational needs of the office, I stuck with it… And (thankfully), I was okay… For the first year since Bruce’s death, I can honestly say that I was okay.

Sure, there were some hard moments where I had to send my class on a short break while I took a few deep breaths to regather myself… And, lovingly, while I worked, I had a dear friend who came and sat on my couch just to be there whenever I needed a hug or a few words of encouragement.

After work, we “celebrated the dash between the dates”. She listened as I shared story after story, and we toasted Bruce – his love and the legacy he left behind. Then, like a true friend with love and compassion, she stayed for a couple more nights… Still encouraging me to talk and filter through all the emotions I still feel.

One thing I realized is that no matter how many years pass, I still love him… I still miss him… And I still can’t quite seem to say good-bye. I cling to the belief that we will see each other again, and that his spirit and energy are still a part of my world… In fact, as long as I can remember him, he is not really gone even though we are apart.

“High up in the sky, the little stars climb –
Always reminding me that we’re apart.”
~ Nat King Cole, Stardust

I’m not sure if (or how) anyone is ever truly able to completely let go of the ones they love, whether we lose them to death or distance or estrangement or any of a number of reasons. For my experience, love is eternal. It is not a switch to turn on and off. It is as real and true and as eternal as the universe itself.

So …

Dear Bruce,
I remember the night you died. I immediately found myself looking ahead and thinking about all those years facing me without you. So many times, throughout the day, I think about how tired I am of living this life without you. I miss that feeling of complete joy (instead of this constant feeling of complete pain). I still miss you so very much and my heart is still shattered. This year is better than the past years, but I am still struggling a little bit at accepting that you are truly gone… I still struggle with telling you good-bye. You brought me pure joy, and I will always be grateful for experiencing that – even if it was for such a short time. Thank you, Babe! I love you… I can’t seem to stop… I guess, I will always love you!

“Though I dream in vain.
In my heart it will remain.
My stardust melody –
A memory of love’s refrain.”
~ Nat King Cole, Stardust

Stardust – Nat King Cole (youtube.com)
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Grief changes us. This journey is not an easy path for anyone. That is why I share the mistakes I have made, as well as what I have felt and learned along the way. Even sharing our stories of love and life can be helpful on this journey. We know learning to function on this new path is hard, and it is easy to lose our way or forget that we don’t have to do it alone. I don’t think any of us chose to be here… I know I didn’t. Yet, this is where life has landed us for now… This is where we are. Our lives are now filled with challenges we never imagined and emotions that feel overwhelming at times. So often, I think I have it all figured out, only to find that isn’t true at all. Despite the years since Bruce passed, my life is still filled with challenges, as I am sure yours is too. Learning to take it one day/moment at a time is all any of us can do.

Thankfully, I know I am not alone… None of us are… We have each other. It is our love for those we have lost that brings us together into this space where we can share our experiences. I believe the sharing of our stories is so important… I believe it is healing. Do you have a story to tell? I believe we can find courage and strength in one another’s stories. I believe we can offer each other empathy when we open our hearts to one another. I don’t know about you, but it makes me feel better knowing there are others out there who understand what I mean, and what I feel. It’s nice to know I’m not alone… Maybe this strikes a chord with you too. We would all love to hear your thoughts or your story. If you would like to share your experience or if you need a helping hand or maybe a virtual hug, let us know. We are here for you.

Peace, Love, and Grief – Another Year

Is it really 2024? … Has another year really passed? It is so hard to believe… Sometimes it seems like Bruce just died yesterday, and other times I am terrified that with the passage of so much time, I will forget the sound of his voice, his mischievous grin or the kindness in his eyes.

This week I have reflected on all that happened and all that I learned in 2023. I have also been watching the days on the calendar tick by as the anniversary of Bruce’s death approaches in less than a week. I know I did a lot of work on myself in 2023… even my family has mentioned the differences… but is it enough to see me through this upcoming day that seems to always haunt me.

Over 20 years ago, I was diagnosed with PTSD. This year, my therapist and I made the decision to take my therapy to another level, and truly focus on reprocessing the traumatic events that created that response in me. While I still have a lot of work to do, I am already so happy with the results. I am more self-assured, and much more emotionally regulated and grounded… Also, for the first time in my entire life, I actually understand what a boundary is and how to establish and maintain my own. (Something I have never been able to do before for a multitude of reasons.)

Bruce’s death was one of the first traumatic events we tackled. Knowing that this season is always hard for me, and I wanted to do more than merely survive this year… and I have (so far). Sure, I am still sad that Bruce isn’t here. Absolutely, I would give anything to have him here beside me – laughing or arguing… It wouldn’t matter… Just to have him here again will always be something I long for.

The difference, though, is that I no longer blame myself for not being able to save him that night. The difference is I am not beating myself up or looking for someone/thing to blame and choosing myself as the “bad guy”. I still hate that Bruce is gone, but I don’t hate myself for the fact that he is gone. I miss him with my whole heart, but I no longer feel the despair that was always here in the depths of my soul.

I guess what I’m saying is… I still grieve his loss, but it is no longer in control… And that is more relief than I ever thought possible.

How will I be this week with the anniversary of his death? I have no idea. This is completely new territory for me. However, I can say that in this moment, I am okay.

We all have our demons that we need to face, and until we do, they have the potential to take over and control our whole world without us ever being fully aware of it. For example, I was diagnosed with PTSD before the end of my 1st marriage. Then, there have been other events through the years that just seemed to get piled on top of that situation. I have been in talk therapy for a long time, but progress was slower than slow. Throughout the years, I had no idea how much impact those past events were having on every single aspect of my life.

The only relief I have ever felt from that was when I was with Bruce. Not that I had dealt with any of it, but his unconditional love, as well as his faith in me and strength of character were contagious. I couldn’t help but respond positively to all of that. There were still times when I had flashbacks or woke up terrified from a nightmare from the past or reacted in terror to threats from my ex. Overall, until now, those few years were probably my most healthy (emotionally). But when he died, I lost all of that… I was back at square one all over again.

This year, though, I finally feel even healthier than that… Because this time, the strength I feel is coming from within. This time I am building my own tools for emotional health… I am putting in the hard work. Each time I relive and reprocess another trauma from my past, I feel a small victory. Each time I know I am getting a little bit stronger (aka – healthier).

Last year, my word was “be” … Be me, be kind, be compassionate, be loving, be hopeful… to just ‘be’ and to be comfortable with that… however it looked. That word guided my actions, including the decision to ramp up on the therapy. I still love this word, and I believe I am finally arriving to a space where I am comfortable being me… (And if I am honest, I didn’t believe I would ever be able to do that.)

So, what is my word for this year? What is my new goal as I face another year which begins with the anniversary of Bruce’s death?

This year, my focus is on the word “create” … To know that “I create change, connections, and health when I ——-“. (Fill in the blank with whatever affirmation or action I need in order to face whatever is before me.) My goal to “create” in 2024 is about all the possibilities out there, waiting for me to explore, in order to create the “best me” in each moment.

I have no idea what tomorrow or this week or 2024 will hold… none of us do. Life is a moment by moment experience… and I simply want to reach a point where I can love and enjoy life while being proud of who I am and the part I play in this world… whether Bruce is physically by my side or a loving energy in my heart.
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Grief changes us. This journey is not an easy path for anyone. That is why I share the mistakes I have made, as well as what I have felt and learned along the way. Even sharing our stories of love and life can be helpful on this journey. We know learning to function on this new path is hard, and it is easy to lose our way or forget that we don’t have to do it alone. I don’t think any of us chose to be here… I know I didn’t. Yet, this is where life has landed us for now… This is where we are. Our lives are now filled with challenges we never imagined and emotions that feel overwhelming at times. So often, I think I have it all figured out, only to find that isn’t true at all. Despite the years since Bruce passed, my life is still filled with challenges, as I am sure yours is too. Learning to take it one day/moment at a time is all any of us can do.

Thankfully, I know I am not alone… None of us are… We have each other. It is our love for those we have lost that brings us together into this space where we can share our experiences. I believe the sharing of our stories is so important… I believe it is healing. Do you have a story to tell? I believe we can find courage and strength in one another’s stories. I believe we can offer each other empathy when we open our hearts to one another. I don’t know about you, but it makes me feel better knowing there are others out there who understand what I mean, and what I feel. It’s nice to know I’m not alone… Maybe this strikes a chord with you too. We would all love to hear your thoughts or your story. If you would like to share your experience or if you need a helping hand or maybe a virtual hug, let us know. We are here for you.
Please do… This is our community. To share your thoughts and experiences go to the comments and leave your message.*

This is a weekly blog, for daily affirmations we have a Facebook page of the same name. Join us daily at www.facebook.com/peaceloveandgrief