peace – Page 44 – Peace, Love & Grief

Peace, Love and Grief… The value I couldn’t see

Recent research has shown that 2 out of 3 people have low self-esteem. WOW! That is quite a number! (And losing sight of your own value as a human being is quite a loss.) There are many things that feed into how we feel about ourselves but evidently many of us are buying into some pretty negative ideas. I grew up feeling loved and as a child, I remember feeling extremely confident. I have no idea at what point I lost that or why. I could play psychologist and wager a guess, but it would be exactly that – a guess.

I do know that by the time I met my first husband, my self esteem was already low… he didn’t create it. But because I didn’t value myself, I accepted that fact that he didn’t either. I spent many years accepting behaviors that should never have been tolerated… but I didn’t believe in my own value enough to set a boundary or have higher expectations.
After my first marriage ended, as I mentioned a few weeks ago, I had a lot of healing to do. I worked hard and I made progress, but always in the back of my mind was “His” voice saying, “The world would spin a lot easier if you weren’t on it.”

Bruce, however, saw me in a different light… His perspective became something I clung to when that other voice got too loud. I remember one day, soon after we were married. We were sitting on the barstools at the kitchen counter. I don’t remember what triggered the conversation, I only remember the miracle of his response.

I was feeling down on myself, and he was trying to understand why. (God bless him!) I took a piece of notebook paper, crumpled it into a ball and smoothed it back out. Then, I repeated that process several times. The paper looked like a crumpled mess… definitely a piece of trash.

“I feel like this is me,” I said. “Nothing but someone else’s piece of trash and you got stuck with someone else’s trash (me).”

Bruce sat quietly for a moment or two, never one to be rushed – always one to think things through before speaking. I don’t know what I expected to hear or if I even expected anything, but what he said next was a turning point for me.

Gently, he took a clean piece of paper from the stack and set it beside that crumpled paper. Then, as he touched the clean paper, he said, “I don’t think that at all.” Slowly, he tore off a corner of the clean paper and placed it in the center of the crumpled paper. “You may see all of this when you look at yourself,” he said as he gestured to the crumpled paper. “But when I look at you, all I see is this.” And he gently touched the clean piece he had laid in the center.

Why am I telling this story? Because after that, with Bruce’s unconditional love, I began to rebuild my own thought process about myself. It was a slow process and there were still some major gaps but I was moving forward… until that day in January of 2013 when my world fell apart.

When Bruce passed, I felt like I had been abandoned. I couldn’t understand why God would let this happen. Why did I have to spend so many years with someone who couldn’t love me and only a few short years with someone who loved me beyond all reason? Emotionally, I fell backwards about 10 years in regards to my self-worth and value. I couldn’t seem to believe in my own value anymore… If God didn’t see me as valuable, how could I? My self-esteem fell lower and lower. I couldn’t seem to pick myself up… not alone… not by myself.

Then, I met a wonderful woman who worked with me as a coach (and is still a dear, dear friend). By asking all the right questions (some that were initially infuriating), she helped me realize I had spent most of my life letting other people shape my thoughts about myself. When I was married to Bruce, it was positive shaping, but I was still giving that power to someone else. Until I learned to shape my own thoughts, I would always flounder with my own value… and that is a loss no one has to endure.

I started with an “Intentions” poster that still hangs in my bathroom. On it, I list short, encouraging phrases that build me up or encourage positive action. I, also, learned (and started implementing) the knowledge that just because someone says something, doesn’t make it true. I don’t have to take it in and make it a part of me. Shoot, I don’t even have to respond to it. Instead, I can realize that it is merely a reflection on them and their thought processes. I have the option to let it go… so I do.

There have been other epiphanies along this journey, and I have probably made the most progress in the last 8+ months as I become stronger in the knowledge that I have value. God never abandoned me or wanted me to hurt. He sent Bruce as a blessing… A starting point for my healing. God created me and loves me just as I am… He knows I am not perfect, but that is no surprise to him. He made me that way and loves me anyway. In fact, I am finally learning to love me just as I am, as well… Only this time it is not because someone else says I do or do not deserve it.

Losing Bruce was hard and losing myself in that process made it even harder. However, I know now that I am a whole person just as I am. Bruce always wanted me to know and believe that. Because of him, his love, his patience and his gentle nature, I am finally getting there.

I would have never thought that it would take grief for me to learn to see my own value. But life seems to teach us what we need to know wherever we are on our path.

Thank you, Babe, for always believing in me…

Because this is OUR community, please feel free to share your thoughts and experiences, too. To do so, go to the comments and leave a note.*

Who knows… you may hold the answer for someone else.

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… We all have those days

Happiness is a daily choice…
Some days I am better at it than others.
~ Linda, January 26, 2015

Let me start by saying, “Yes, I am well aware that last week’s blog sounded like a pity party.” It was! I admit it… I even knew it when I posted it, but I posted it anyway. Why? Because it was real… And because if this blog is an honest look at how I deal with loss (my grief journey), then it needs to include the good and the bad. I have to be honest about those days when I can keep my attitude in check and those days when I don’t.

Yes, I was feeling sorry for myself, but whether you are grieving or not, most of us have days just like that. That is not a phenomenon only relevant to those grieving. We’ve all been there at some point. Therefore, it shouldn’t be hard to empathize when we see someone else going down that road.

Last week, I was very tempted to change the blog entirely and write it as if I had handled the day well, remained positive and had a “life lesson” for the world. I laugh though, because that would have been false. In fact, since it wouldn’t have been genuine, it may have sounded a bit preachy. (Yuck!) But worst of all, if I were not honest, someone else who was having a “feel-sorry-for-myself” kind of day might have felt they were wrong or unusual. That would go directly against what I hope to achieve with this blog… an understanding that feelings are feelings. They are neither right nor wrong. It is what you do with them that makes a difference in your life.

I guess I could be embarrassed about what I felt last week, but I feel that it is something we have all felt at one time or another – loss or no loss. I’m glad I simply put it out there, and I’m thankful for the people who contacted me and said they “got it” – they have had days just like that, too.

This is one way where a grief journey isn’t so different from any other journey. We all have challenges. We all have bumps in the road. Sometimes we can maneuver around them or gently roll over them without a problem, and other times they knock us to the other side of the road. There is no “wrong” on this journey… it is about doing the best you can day to day – moment to moment. Sometimes that isn’t a pretty picture – but it’s real.

After 2+ years of missing Bruce, I wish I had it all figured out. I wish I could say I am okay with my life every moment of every day… but I can’t… because I’m not. Who could? We all have frustrations and no one needs the added pressure of feigning perfection.

So what do you do with a day like that? Here’s a thought… “pity party” days are not healthy or positive, but they are normal. The trick lies in:

1. Recognizing it for what it is. It is a bad moment in time, but it doesn’t have to determine what comes next.

2.Not blaming anyone else for what you are feeling. No one controls your feelings but you. Someone may say or do something that affects you but you get to decide what to do with that.

And

3. Making the choice to get back on your feet and move past it. I know, it’s not as simple as it sounds but it is truly your choice and no one else’s.

Don’t get me wrong, I have days when I get to the end and I am proud of how I have handled my day. But I also have days when I look back and think, “Well, that wasn’t my best… but tomorrow is a new day.” I look at it this way – just the fact that I can recognize when I fall down, is a success… Because once I recognize it, I can start to pull out of it.

My point this week?

No matter what your path, we are not so different. We have more in common than we might care to acknowledge. No one has all the answers and that is more than okay with me. I want to be the best “me” possible – I strive for that. But I find it comforting to know I can learn to accept myself – warts and all. And deep down, I realize I like me… and I’m worth the work.

Furthermore, this week’s blog is not just for people dealing with physical loss. This week’s loss is more about losing your own perspective of yourself and the power within each of us to choose our attitude in each moment of each day.

Because this is OUR community, please feel free to share your thoughts and experiences, too. To do so, go to the comments and leave a note.*

Who knows… you may hold the answer for someone else.

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

Peace, Love and Grief… It’s not a competition

Please…
Please don’t judge my grief;
Don’t compare it to someone else’s.
You see what I choose to let you see.
(Except in those moments when it overflows and pours from my soul.)
I may smile.
I may walk with my chin up,
But you do not know what pain is growing on the inside…
consuming my soul.
It may be easy to sit where you do and decide I am fine;
But you would be wrong.
You see what I choose to let you see.
My pain is here; it is real.
I deal with it all day – everyday…
Do not believe the mask I wear.
~ Linda, June 17, 2014

During the first year after Bruce passed, I found myself getting angry at some of the things people said. During the second year, that anger subsided as I learned to think with less emotion and began to realize that people truly meant well… They just didn’t know any better. I know now that most of the words spoken were meant to console or “help me look on the bright side.” Unfortunately, what might be consoling to one person is not necessarily consoling to another. Separating the words from the intent and only responding to the intent has helped me grow and respond with love. What I hope to achieve today is an understanding of why one perception of loss can leave the griever feeling isolated even more.

One of the few statements that will still trigger an emotional (aka – angry) response within me, occurs when someone tries to compare the grief of two different people and thus, two different losses. Please, believe me when I tell you that if you were to ask anyone who is grieving, they would be quick to tell you that this is not a game… And, if it were, they would rather not be participating.

The year Bruce died, was a hard year for our little office. Several people lost family members. We lost husbands, partners, parents and children. About 6 months after Bruce passed, a co-worker went through the horrendous experience of losing her son in a senseless accident. Not only did she live a mother’s worst nightmare by having to make the decision to say “good-by”, but because it was not his fault in any way, she also spent months fighting for him in the judicial system. She is such a brave woman, and I am extremely proud to be her friend.

Since we were both experiencing such deep-felt grief at the same time, we shared a lot… many mornings found us praying for each other and sending words of encouragement back and forth. (I hope she realizes that she is still in my prayers – even today.)

The competition I mention was never between her and me. The competition seems to have been in the minds of some of our co-workers. Ironically, it seemed to be those who had never lost a child or a soul mate (a loss that impacts not just your heart but your day-to-day life).

Almost immediately, people began saying to me, “Well, at least you can remarry and get another husband. She can never replace her son.” Or “Well, at least you don’t hurt as much as she does. The pain of losing a child is so much worse.”

Really? I’ve lost a child and I’ve lost my soul mate… the relationships were different and the pain was different. But I would never say that one is less or more painful than the other. I am aware that these people were trying to help. Their intention may have been to console or to be the “voice of wisdom and positive thought.” I truly believe they meant well, and I appreciate their attempt to help me feel better.

My questions, however, would be…

1. Is there a way to measure grief?
I don’t believe you can measure it. No one knows for sure how or what I (or another person) feels. When we are grieving, we let the world see what we choose to let them see. I would bet most people have no idea that almost 2.5 years later, I still cry at least 2 – 3 times a day… and that’s a minimum. I still wear our wedding rings close to my heart each and every day, and when things get rough and when I sleep, I hold them tightly in my fist. I still have a hard time wrapping my mind around the reality of losing Bruce. I don’t know if I will ever completely accept it.

2. And what do they mean replace Bruce?
One might remarry… Then again, one might also have another child. My point is no matter what else you might do, you can never replace a person. Each person is unique and your relationship with them is unique. They will always be a part of your soul and live deep in your heart. Yes, I am lonely… but it is Bruce that I miss. I don’t want just anyone – I want him. But since that is impossible, I still find myself grieving. I still question why he is gone. I still light a candle for him each morning. I can still remember what it feels like to be in his arms. Craziest of all, I still think of myself as married, and I still think of him as my husband. Honestly, I don’t know if that will ever change.

Here is what I do know…

If your grieving, people will probably say things that are just wrong. Take a breath and remember that they mean well.
If you are trying to comfort someone who is grieving and you don’t know what to say, that’s okay. You need to say anything – just be there. That means so much more than anyone could ever realize.
Finally, please understand that people who are grieving, would rather not be grieving (period). So, if you feel the temptation to compare our grief – to make it seem like a competition – please don’t. It is hurtful and invalidating.
We would beg you, please, don’t compare us… just support us.

Because this is our community, please feel free to share your thoughts and experiences, too. To do so, go to the comments and leave a note.*

Who knows… you may hold the answer for someone else.

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

Peace, Love and Grief… Where are the dreams now?

Reality
I know that you’re not coming back.
I know that even though I wish it weren’t true,
you are gone.
I know…
But it is a bitter pill to swallow.
~ Linda, March 20, 2015

This week’s blog is an extension of last week’s… but then again, that only makes sense since that is the way of time.

Last week I talked about Bruce’s birthday and the dream we had of retiring when he turned 55… This would have been that year. It was supposed to be our time… our dream. But life doesn’t always happen the way you plan it.

I had to go back to work on Tuesday, just like any other day. I woke up, I wrote in my journal, I did my meditation and I worked out. Then I got dressed and drove to work just like any other day… But it wasn’t any other day. It was the day that marked the end of a dream. I walked through the doors at work, greeted the security guard, unlocked my office door and sat down to my computer. However, everything in me was screaming, “NO!!” This wasn’t how it was supposed to be… I wasn’t supposed to be there. This was not what we had planned.

When we met, Bruce and I shared a dream. (I believe it was a part of our initial attraction.) We both wanted to retire on a boat and sail the Caribbean. I used to laugh and tell him that he could be my “cabin boy.” He would laugh right back and tell me that he couldn’t think of a better way to spend his days. I loved that! He didn’t care if I was the “Captain” – he just wanted to be together. Who wouldn’t fall in love with that?!

We spent many weekends looking at yachts – deciding what we wanted and what we didn’t. He used to laugh that we would need an entire separate boat just for my shoes… He was probably right! : )

He was such a thinker… always coming up with ideas for growing a garden on board, a “boat” solar-powered treadmill for me to have a place to run and any other way to make it uniquely “ours.” He spent hours studying ports and pirates, customs and currents. In other words, he got serious about how to actually make our dream come to life. Our dream was real for both of us, and I didn’t doubt that we would really do it one day.

When we bought our current home, I did worry just a little bit. In fact, I questioned Bruce if our dream was just that… a dream. After all, now we had a house and all the responsibilities that go with it. He just smiled and told me that dreams always have a way of coming true… after all – we had found each other.

Then one night… in a breath… in one moment of time, he was gone, I was alone, and our dream was no longer.

I knew it. Over time, I thought I had accepted it. I certainly understood it. I have done the figures and calculations… I know how much longer I need to work before I can retire. (That time-line changes when there is only one person to contribute to the budget.) Logically, I got it… I was aware of the reality of my situation. My world was real and our dreams were gone.

But how does one live – I mean REALLY live – without a dream? Is that living? That is where I found myself on Tuesday. Walking through the motions of my life and realizing that without a dream, what was the purpose? What was the point?

Bruce is gone. He isn’t coming back no matter how much I wish for it. Our dreams are gone too… but my life isn’t over. I don’t want to spend the rest of my days just going through the motions. I want a life with purpose. So while I have spent the remainder of this week mourning the loss of Bruce AND our dreams, I have also come to realize that I must look deep inside myself and find a new dream… a new purpose.

This week has been hard. I have smiled in public and pretended that all was well. However, on the inside, I have been lost… totally and completely lost. I hear this is normal… all couples share dreams and when one is gone, the dreams are gone. It is up to each of us to determine how to keep going.

I’m not sure exactly what my next dream will be but I have the glimmer of an idea that makes me smile. That alone leads me to believe I am on the right path. Life has a way of opening and closing doors, so for now, I will follow my heart, go where life leads me… and pray for the courage to keep moving forward.

I share my thoughts this week praying that if someone else is feeling the same way, they will realize that it is never too late to dream… And dreams are what give our lives purpose.

The Promise
A bird hops through the grass.
A grapevine gently bounces in the breeze.
The raindrops left on the grass from last night’s rain
sparkle in the morning sun.
The ants are already busy scrambling to and fro.
It is a new day;
Full of promise.
Let me open my heart and see the beauty that surrounds me.
Let me accept the promise of today
and hold it to my heart
so I can live each moment as it comes.
~ Linda, September 29, 2014

Because this is OUR community, please feel free to share your thoughts and experiences, too. To do so, go to the comments and leave a note.

Who knows… you may hold the answer for someone else.

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

Peace, Love and Grief… Celebrating his life…

Blessed

Sometimes I don’t know how to do this.
Sometimes I can’t even breathe.
Then something happens
And I am reminded of how blessed I have been
To have known you at all…
To hold you in my arms,
Even if only for a little while…
That love will carry me through.

~ Linda, February 10, 2015

Aaaand… here I go again. Bruce’s birthday is Monday, April 13 so I have found myself facing another weekend with great significance. Sometimes I feel like there isn’t even time to breathe before the next thing comes along. However, while I find myself tearing up as I reminisce about past birthday weekends, I know that what I want to do is to celebrate his life… a life that changed mine for the better.

With rare exception, we always took the week of Bruce’s birthday off and headed to his folks’ house to celebrate. We would have so much fun just enjoying each other’s company – spending time on the beach, fishing with his dad, playing card games late into the night, “camping out” in the guest house and making all those precious memories that I wouldn’t trade for the world. It was his week and his mom always treated him like a prince – cooking all his favorite foods, including his favorite cake (Texas Sheet Cake). He would just grin from ear to ear the whole time we were there… In fact, saying good-bye was the only negative part of the whole week.

I remember the first year that I joined him there. Bruce and I had only been dating for a few months. Up to that point, I had only met his sisters (who are wonderful), but not his parents. He was so excited to have me come along, but I was TERRIFIED. I was a 40-something year old divorcee with 4 children who lived 1000 miles away from their son… not exactly a parent’s dream mate for their only son. But Bruce kept insisting I was wrong. “They will love you,” he smiled. “They already love you because I love you and I am happier than I have ever been.” I guess he was right because I felt welcomed and loved from the moment I walked through their door. In fact, that love and acceptance has not changed at all across the years… His family became my family and still is. : )

On his birthday weekend in 2011, we signed the final papers and moved into this home. Since we couldn’t go there, his folks came here and helped us move in. It was a ton of work but we had a great time just being together… and Bruce still got to pick every place we ate. : ) Bruce and I were so excited to be here. We had picked this place specifically to fulfill our dream of spending our retirement years enjoying the Florida coast.

We planned to retire when Bruce turned 55 and just spend the rest of our days playing together. We were so excited… We had so many adventures planned… so many places to go… so many things to do. That dream retirement would have started this year on his birthday (tomorrow). That was our plan… that was our dream. But for whatever reason, that dream was taken away without warning one January night…

With our dreams gone, life got real. So in the interest of a blog that is honest about grief, I will too.

That first birthday without Bruce, we held his memorial and scattered his ashes at sunrise. Afterward, we came back home to a brunch of all his favorite foods. In the evening, we went to one of his favorite fishing spots, toasted him with a beer, and let his grandson place a “boat of flowers” into the water to “take a note to Papa in heaven.” Then to end the day, we had dinner at his favorite seafood restaurant in town. It was one of the hardest days ever… but all in all, it felt like the right way to honor him and his life.

The next year (last year), I was alone for his birthday. At the end of the day, I dressed up (just as I would for him) and went out to dinner at that same seafood restaurant to celebrate. Then afterward, I came back home and had a (Jimmy Buffet) Parrot Head party in his honor. In my mind, I danced with him for hours… It was a hard, tear-filled, wonderful night.

This year I would love to say that enough time has passed, so I am spending the weekend remembering the good times and being thankful, happy and content with those… But that would be a lie.

I am happy for the time Bruce and I had together. I love remembering all the good times and precious moments. But I would give absolutely anything to have him back… to have our dreams back… to have my best friend back… to have our life back. I try not to cry, but the tears come anyway – I am just so sad that he is gone and I am here celebrating his birthday alone. (Even as I write this, I am having trouble seeing the screen through the tears.)

This year my plan has been to go to all of his favorite eating spots over the next few days. (I’ve already been to three of them – Friday, Saturday and tonight.) I even bought a little cupcake (okay – it’s actually HUGE) and a bottle of “Birthday” wine to celebrate tomorrow. I also plan to have another Parrot Head dance party just because it feels right.

I guess deep inside, I want him to know he isn’t forgotten. I love him… I will ALWAYS love him. And as long as I have breath in my body, I will celebrate the day the world was blessed by his life.

This week I have only shared my thoughts, feelings and experiences – there is no great wisdom… only the truth. Because this is our community, please feel free to share your thoughts and experiences, too. To do so, go to the comments and leave a note.

Who knows… you may hold the answer for someone else.

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

Peace, Love and Grief… Surviving another holiday…

Things I Never Thought
I never thought I would live without you…
but I do.
I never thought I would spend a holiday alone…
but I have.
I never thought I would celebrate life’s joys alone…
but I will.
I don’t know what I am supposed to learn from all this…
but I keep searching.
There must be something…
I just need to find it
~ Linda, October 1, 2013

As I write this, I am facing another holiday weekend (alone)… ugh. That probably sounds a bit cynical, but I really don’t feel guilty about saying it. It’s honest, and I am sure there are a lot of other people on this path who completely understand. Let me explain.

The first year after Bruce died, I didn’t “do” the holidays. I ignored them, even if it meant escaping somewhere to get away from the world’s excitement. It may sound silly, but I couldn’t face the holidays so I ran away. What made it so hard? Bruce and I had finally adjusted to our own new, “empty nest” traditions. That was a hard transition for both of us… family had always been the center of our holidays and celebrations. When he died so unexpected, I couldn’t handle anything else… I couldn’t rethink new traditions and the old ones didn’t fit anymore, so I gave myself permission to NOT participate… I wasn’t ready.

Last year, I celebrated most of the holidays with my kids or other family. It was hard without Bruce but I managed to smile, and I did find joy somewhere in each one. I say “most” because life happens and there have been a few celebrations that I spent alone, such as Bruce’s and my birthdays, a promotion at work and some smaller holidays. Spending those days alone is hard no matter how much you try to remain positive… even when you understand why you are alone. This holiday weekend is another one that finds me alone… and struggling with my emotions.

I did manage to pull out a couple of Easter decorations for the foyer so if someone peeks inside it at least appears festive. But that is as far as I went… no baskets or eggs. Okay… I admit (with some guilt) to buying a box of Peeps and a bag of Easter corn because they are my favorites. : )

For me, the trick seems to be trying to navigate the world’s excitement while at the same time trying to balance my own emotions and loneliness. I try to tell myself that it’s just a day, but I can’t lie. It’s a harder struggle than I would have ever imagined. I want to be excited, but about what? There is no family around, no traditions to share, no one to laugh with or talk to… the weekend ahead seems more daunting than promising.

I wish with all my heart Bruce was still here beside me, but I know that will never be again… not in this lifetime. I would especially love to talk to my grandmothers. I ache for their wisdom and advice… How did they do this? One of my grandmothers spent over 40 years on her own and the other one outlived her husband by more than 20 years. How did they survive this? Where did they find the strength? Did they hurt like this, too? I would give anything to know… to listen and to learn from them.

I wish I had answers this week but I don’t. However, I would like to share one thing that I will do this holiday weekend. It is my own new tradition that allows me to still include Bruce in every holiday and every celebration. (I did not make this up myself… It is someone else’s idea that I found somewhere, but I love it, I have used it, and I want to share it.)

I use a frame filled with pictures of Bruce and I together and place 6 candles in front of it. Then, I read the following, lighting the candles as I go:

We/I light 6 candles in honor of you.
1. This candle represents our/my grief. The pain of losing you is intense. It is a reminder of the depth of our/my love for you.

2. This candle represents our/my courage – to confront our/my sorrow, to comfort each other and to change our/my lives.

3. This candle is in your memory – the times we laughed, the times we cried, the times we were angry with each other, the silly things we did and the caring and joy you gave us/me.

4. This candle is the light of love. Day by day we/I cherish the special place in our/my hearts that will always be reserved for you. Thank you for the gift your life brought to each of us/me.

5. This candle is the light of hope. It reminds us/me of love and memories of you that are ours/mine forever.

6. This candle is the light of eternity – for the day when we /I will see you again, in all God’s glory. We will be together again. We will have healthy, whole bodies and can explore the wonders of heaven together.

May the light of the Lord be our source of hopefulness now and forever.I love you, Babe… Amen.

This week I have only shared my thoughts and experiences – there is no real insight or direction. Because this is OUR community, please feel free to share your thoughts and experiences, too. I know I would LOVE to hear how others have handled their holidays. To do so, go to the comments and leave a note.

Who knows… you may hold the answer for someone else.

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

Peace, Love and Grief… How to “get over it”

So Tired

Sometimes I am so tired of thinking;
I keep my thoughts busy to avoid thinking of you.
But that is exhausting…
Will I ever be able to rest;
To just sit … and not spiral down?
I am so tired… so very tired.
~ Linda, March 13, 2015

Do you remember as a kid thinking that when you grew up, you would get to do things your way? No more doing what everyone else told you to do. You would be free! Then what happened? Exactly – you grew up and learned right away that you were wrong… absolutely and completely wrong. Well, grief is like that, too. Before it happens, you think you know what it will be like and how it should be handled. Then… horribly, you learn how very wrong you were. Grief is NOTHING like the world portrays it to be.

When Bruce passed, people were surprised to find me returning to work after 2 weeks. I don’t know if that is strange or not… it was what I needed to do. After 1.5 weeks, I found myself alone and overwhelmed with emotions. I knew enough about myself to know that being alone was not going to be good for me. It was way too quiet. I was sitting at home, staring at the four walls, and all I could think about was Bruce and everything that was now gone. I felt myself spiraling further and further down each day. I knew I needed to be around people. I needed to go back to work. Why work? I needed to go somewhere each day that had not involved Bruce. I needed something in my life that was familiar and not filled with grief – something “normal”… not the “new normal” that everyone kept calling this life without Bruce.

My office is an hour away from our home plus there is very tight security there, so one gets in who doesn’t belong there. That meant, work was a place that held absolutely NO memories of Bruce… he had never been there. I needed that space… at least for a small part of the day. I needed this space that was not filled with grief. Staying busy seemed like a good idea. However, I soon found that I needed to deal with the emotions and grief – I couldn’t ignore them forever. So, I also joined a grief therapy group. I wanted to “get better”… I wanted to “get over it.” You see, I was still under the common assumption, that there are “stages of grief.” Therefore, I just needed to work my way through them and get on with life.

However, there were a few things wrong with this notion. First, those “stages” are actually the stages of dying… while people grieving DO experience a lot of those same emotions, they don’t necessarily fall in any type of order. And many times, they circle back and repeat themselves… over and over. I would find myself thinking I was past a stage only to find myself right back in the same spot weeks later. As I have said before, grief is maddening. It is chaos; there is no rhyme or reason. I soon came to realize that it cannot be handled by a checklist of stages. Since I am a checklist kind of person THAT was hard to accept. Everything I thought I knew about grief was wrong.

Since my experience with grief was not anything like I thought it should be, I began to think there was something wrong with me. Because some of the people around me had the same or similar ideas about grief, they unwittingly reinforced the idea that I must be doing something wrong… why couldn’t I just “close the door on that chapter of my life and move on?”

Thankfully, I also have other people in my life who knew better. They are the reason I am still here… I could not have come this far without them. They were friends. They were co-workers. They were family members… there were even a few strangers in the mix. But more than anything, they were my life-line. They listened. They gave hugs. They held me when I cried, and they were honest about what this grief journey would be like. I needed that… I still do.

I have learned so much about grief in the last two years. In fact, EVERYTHING I thought I knew was wrong. Since it is the purpose of this blog, I’d like to share a little bit of what I have learned.

First and foremost,
1. No two people will have the same experience.
2. Don’t try to compare your grief journey with anyone else’s. (For questions – see #1.)
3. There is no specific amount of time allowed for grief. (For questions – see #1.)
4. Be kind to yourself. Do what you need to do for YOU – not what everyone is telling you to do. (For questions – see #1.)
5. There is no right or wrong way to do this. (For questions – see #1 – 4.)

Despite the intended humor above, I AM trying to make a point. The point is:
No one knows what you need except you. So do THAT… do what you need to do.

I am well aware that there are still people quick to judge and voice an opinion on how I choose to move through this process. For those people, I have to make a choice. I can either:
1. Accept their opinions with a smile (but still ignore it).
2. Make the attempt to help them understand, OR
3. Let them go… This is especially difficult because you are already dealing with loss and who in their right mind would want to deal with more loss? (However, if it reaches unhealthy levels, letting go may be necessary.)

Only you can decide which choice is best… and it will be a different choice with different people.

Once I finally understood all this my question became, “Okay, I am doing all of that… now how much longer? At what point will I get over this? When will this stop?” I hated the answer when I heard it, but deep down I already knew it.

The answer is never… at least not entirely. There is no “getting over it.” That is a terrible myth that creates a lot of unnecessary pain. Try to understand – there is not a switch that can be turned on or off. (Don’t we wish it were that easy?) My understanding from those who are ahead of me on this journey is that as time passes, you learn to live with it… You learn to function around it. It will shape your life in new ways, but ultimately, it will always be a part of who you are.

For a “checklist” person like me, THAT has been a bitter pill to swallow. But experience is teaching me that it is true. I am learning to “dance” with my grief, if you will… to accept what it brings day to day (good or bad) and work through it. I am learning what works well for me and what will pull me down. But the biggest thing I am learning is that I AM moving forward, even if it is baby steps.

This may not be the answer you were looking for when you read the title, but it is the honest answer. There are no empty promises here – only the acceptance of where each person is on this path.

Because this is OUR community, please feel free to share your thoughts and experiences. To do so, go to the comments and leave a note.

Who knows… you may hold the answer for someone else.

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

Peace, Love and Grief… Goodbye, my sweet baby boy

There is a peace the comes with acceptance;
And a love that is always remembered.
~ Linda, September 14, 2013

When I started this blog, it was because I lost my husband, Bruce. But there were other losses… other times before this one when my heart was broken. However, one thing I learned on this last journey was that any previous loss that had not been mourned or grieved was still inside waiting and I had to deal with it too. (Weird… but true.) There was too much unacknowledged hurt… and I was stuck. I couldn’t move forward until I looked back and dealt with the other losses first… the ones before this one.

The loss of my first child, a boy, was one of those losses. Due to the culture of the time, the fact that he was conceived before my first husband and I were married was considered an “embarrassment.” It was considered a “blessing” by those around me that he did not survive his birth. For them, his death meant nothing had to be explained… no one had to know. It was as if he never existed.

I already knew that I loved this little boy but suddenly he was gone. He was delivered in the doctor’s office. I was sedated and never got the opportunity to see or touch him – his little body was taken away immediately. I was told to be thankful but I wasn’t… I was devastated.

It wasn’t until Bruce died, 30 years later that I finally mourned my baby boy, Matthew… which means “gift of God.” I spent days working through my emotions and despite the disapproval of a few people, I finally acknowledged my boy to the rest of the world. I planted an angel trumpet tree in his honor and finally mourned my sweet baby boy.

To My Sweet Baby Boy
Linda, October 19, 2013

Who were you?
I never got to hold you in my arms,
Or kiss your brow.

I never felt your sleeping head on my shoulder,
Or your soft breath on my neck.

I never rocked you to sleep,
Or heard you cry.

I only held you inside me for a short time,
While I dreamed of what you would be like.

I never gave you a name or said goodbye.
You were gone before I ever had the chance to see you.

My heart broke that day;
For the first time, I knew what real pain was.
I loved you…
I never had the chance to tell you.
I still do…
I still love you.

Have you ever lost a baby or a child? That is a loss that shatters you deep in your soul. I would like for all of us to support each other and share that piece of our hearts.

If you have experienced the loss of a child, take a moment, go to the comments and leave the name of your child and anything you would like to share about them. Let’s take this space and this time to remember and honor those precious lives that were in our care, however briefly.

Peace, Love and Grief… Something unexpected

Happiness is not a destination;
It is a way we can choose to travel on this journey called life.
~ Linda, September 29, 2013

Originally I had a completely different idea for this week’s blog. However, as you know, life takes its own path and has presented something new this week. Since this blog is about sharing my journey, openly and honestly, this is something I feel compelled to share.

Last week I talked about the different emotions we all encounter on this journey. Up until now, those emotions have come in waves… sometimes as tsunamis. Some days I am drowning and other days I manage to stay afloat. This week, however, was completely different… a complete surprise.

I started keeping a journal when Bruce passed away, I think my entry this morning, may be the best way to share this week’s experience with you…

Hi Babe,

A few tears last night and this morning… I miss you. I wish you were still here. I rearranged the pillows on the bed last night so I could try to sleep in our “snuggle” position. It helped a little… but your breathing was missing, your body heat was missing and the way you would pull me close and gently stroke my arm and back were missing. Actually, it was all missing…

I’m glad I went to the grocery store last night so I don’t have to go anywhere today. Three weeks of steady, non-stop go go go… I need a day to get out of my head and into my soul to reconnect with me. There is so much going on right now. I need today so I can slow down and regroup. I have been traveling so much and today I need to be in our space. I need some space and time to cry and write and think about us. I miss you… I miss us. This is one of those days when I just want my life back.

(Up to now, this probably sounds familiar doesn’t it? Ever have those days? Keep reading; this is the good part!)

I’ve actually had a whole week of good days! Seven days in a row – THAT is a first!! : ) I think that is progress. I still missed you everyday; I still thought about you constantly, but I wasn’t crying – there was a peace and even happiness with myself. It’s hard to explain… it wasn’t a “happy-go-lucky, love-that-all-this-happened” kind of happiness. It was more of a “I-like-the-direction-I-am-taking-with-my-life” kind of happiness. I can’t change what has happened, but I can create something good out of something bad and THAT is a miracle.

Does that even make sense? So many times there is a guilt associated with being happy – as if I am never allowed happiness again in this lifetime… but that isn’t me. Before you died, I was a very happy person… Shoot, I am a happy person – it’s just part of who I love to be. However, whenever someone has said, “You’re doing so well.” I have felt guilty. I want to say, “No, wait!” I have felt the need to explain that was really not accurate… I still cry… a lot… just not in front of everyone. I’m not really “doing so well.” I’m just better at keeping it to myself.

No more guilt. I am thankful for the days when I feel good. I don’t need to worry if that is “okay” with someone else or what they think of it. It doesn’t matter if they understand that “happy” has a slightly different meaning now. It is good for me, and I know you want me to be happy… Heck, you did everything in your power to make me happy every moment we were blessed to spend together.

I do still miss you and I do still cry. (Today is one of those days.) But it’s okay to feel happy again. It takes nothing away from us, who we were or how much I still love you… It’s a good thing.

I love you, Babe! Always and forever! xxxooo

This was a first for me… to be blessed with so many good, genuinely happy days in a row. I never thought this would happen for me, and I bet there are a lot of people out who have either been here or are still waiting. Either way, if this is to be a community where we share our experiences in order to help each other, then don’t hesitate to share yours. Please, go to the comments and leave a note, comment or question.

Also, while this blog is weekly, I have added a Facebook page of the same name for daily motivations. Just something quick and fast to lift our souls.
www.facebook.com/peaceloveandgrief