This past week, a reader (or possibly AI… I struggle to tell the difference) sent a message with several questions – some directed at past blogs and some at more current ones… I don’t think it was meant as a challenge to what I have written. (Or, at least, it didn’t sound that way, and I didn’t take it that way.) It felt more like someone seeking to understand. They didn’t want it published with their name, so I thought I would try to address some of those questions here today.
Before I answer, though, I want to clarify something… The only thing that makes me an expert at grief is that fact that I grieve the loss of my husband, Bruce. This means whatever I write is only about my experience – what I feel, what I do, what I learn, etc. Then, I openly share it here with all of y’all with the idea that maybe something I write will strike a chord with one of you, and… maybe that will be helpful on your own journey.
That being said… let’s look at this message a little bit at a time…
“This is such a powerful reflection on pain and growth. I love how you describe shifting focus from what’s frozen to what’s changing—it’s a mindset I’ve been trying to adopt too. The part about learning to laugh again without guilt really hit me; grief has a way of making joy feel forbidden, doesn’t it?”
I have written about the guilt I felt the first time I laughed after Bruce died… There was something about knowing that life had continued and something in that moment… a moment without Bruce… a moment Bruce never had to chance to experience… something in that moment I had found not only enjoyable, but so enjoyable I had laughed.
I was so ashamed of myself. I felt absolutely horrible. I felt greedy for not only allowing myself to enjoy that moment, but for wanting to enjoy that moment. It was quite a while before I found myself in a state of healing where I could actually laugh without all of that baggage… And the biggest healer was remembering how much joy Bruce found in making me laugh.
He had such a subtle sense of humor, and it was easy for something to float right by me, which HE found funny. I really miss that devilish grin he would get when he was “pulling my leg” or had gotten one over on me, and I was clueless… I miss that so much. However, now I laugh (and smile) a lot… I know it is good and healthy to enjoy laughing… I know Bruce would want me to enjoy life… So, in a way, when I laugh now, I am laughing for both of us… and that feels kind of nice.
“You mention Bruce’s spiritual influence—do you think his perspective would’ve changed how you processed things earlier, or was timing just not on your side?”
Good question… and all I can really say is “I don’t know.” I do know that I wouldn’t be where I am in my faith currently without his influence. I grew up in what I now consider a strict dogma religion and as an adult moved into another strict dogma religion. In both, I pushed back on a lot of the doctrine that didn’t make sense. I spent a lot of time trying to be what I was told I should be rather than learning to just be me. I think that was Bruce’s biggest influence… He showed me that I was loveable and loved just like I am… just as the Divine created me. I wasn’t meant to fit in those boxes of doctrine… and that is more than okay.
After his death, I spent years deconstructing my faith, and I am still reconstructing my faith day by day. I like that… I don’t need to have all the answers. After all, isn’t that why it is called “faith”? It is something that leads me to grow and explore daily. It feels fresh every morning.
Would I have gotten here if any of my life’s circumstances had been different? I will never know, will I? Instead, I focus on that fact that I am here… and Bruce was one of the biggest influences on this journey.
“… the idea of “freezing your horizon” is fascinating—have you found specific practices that help “thaw” it, or does it happen naturally with shifting focus?”
I mentioned the idea of “freezing your horizon a couple of months ago. I was referring to the idea that after Bruce died, I struggled to see a future without him… I thought I would be in deep grief for the rest of my life. Hope was non-existent. My grief was not just overwhelming, it was paralyzing.
I took me years before I could find another way to look at my future. (I am pretty sure I hid in my house for 10 years before I ventured out.) That shift in my focus didn’t happen overnight… It came hand-in-hand as I started reconstructing my faith. It was such a gradual process that I didn’t even realize what had happened until years later… (just a few months ago actually).
“One thing I’m still wrestling with: you say pain doesn’t create suffering, but the story we tell ourselves does. Does that mean suffering is optional, even when loss isn’t? Because some days, that feels impossible.”
I agree… and there are still days when it feels impossible. However, I learned a guiding principle a few years ago. When I first heard it, it kind of made me mad… really mad, if I am honest.
The principle is this – “Our thoughts create our experience.” At first, I thought it was insinuating that I had somehow caused Bruce’s death and all of this grief by simply thinking a thought in my own head… (a thought I had never considered before he died). That felt cruel and ridiculous… like blaming the victim.
However, after sitting with that phrase for a while, I realized that it is simply talking about our experience in life is a reflection of how we choose to look at each situation… It is about trying to find that “silver lining” even when (or especially when) if feels impossible.
It is a challenging way to live, and I am not always successful. However, what I have learned is this… Our feelings are valid. We need to feel them, sit with them, and process them in order to heal. Feeling them is easy… Sitting with them is where I can get stuck if I’m not careful. Processing them is that part that allows me to look for something positive around me. Maybe the positive thing is outside of the hard situation… But finding that positive thing – no matter how small, is how I have managed to keep moving forward and healing.
“Would love to hear your thoughts—your honesty here is so refreshing.”
Thank you for your kind words. These are simply my thoughts. They may hold something helpful for someone… or they may not. All I am doing is sharing where I was and where I am on this journey. Who knows where I will be tomorrow? Who knows where any of us will be?
All we can do is take a breath, keep putting one foot in front of the other, and try to be a little bit better tomorrow than we were today.
Next week: I will be taking a break next weekend. It is Bruce’s birthday weekend. I have no idea how I will feel, but I am taking some time away from the world. I just need to disconnect for a few days and see where I land.
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Grief is a daily challenge that changes us in ways we could never foresee, making this journey a difficult 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… This is our community. To share your thoughts and experiences go to the comments and leave your message.*
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