Tag: choices

Peace, Love, and Grief – Grief and Anger

This week I started watching the series Breaking Bad on Netflix. (So far, despite the violence, I have found it quite interesting.) In the episode I watched last night, the family is having a meeting to try to convince the main character to pursue radical, “live saving” medical treatment, which he is not inclined to do.

As I sat there watching, I found myself understanding both sides of the argument. I have been the person with cancer, and I have been the family of someone who decided not to pursue that “lifesaving” treatment. It was weird, because suddenly I was feeling the emotions from both sides… and that was quite contradictory.

Let me back up quite a bit to explain…

Well before Bruce and I ever left MI, he had watched both his mother and his sister go through the ravages of cancer treatments. It was heartbreaking to watch the tears form in his eyes whenever he spoke about it. I even remember one conversation where we both stated that we weren’t so sure either of us would do that… Was it worth it? … The life-style changes? The health issues that follow because of that “lifesaving” treatment? Was the goal to truly live your life or to simply breathe and survive?

(Here, I need to state that both of these women have left me in awe… Both underwent very radical treatments and have gone forward to live their lives with more gusto and fullness than I could ever imagine even on my healthiest of days.)

Now fast-forward to our move to Florida. Bruce had been laid-off for quite a while. Now, whether it was inactivity or the lack of a work distraction, he started noticing some health issues and made a doctor’s appointment. Since Bruce was not one to go to the doctor unless he absolutely had to, this caught my attention. I knew if he was that concerned about what he was feeling, I needed to be concerned too.

The day of his appointment came and went. A week or two later, he returned to discuss all the test results… This is where it got weird…

That evening at dinner, I asked Bruce how the appointment had gone. (Knowing how private Bruce was, I knew I needed to ask in an indirect way… Still, he had shared some of his concerns, so I felt it was okay to at least inquire.)

“Fine,” he said, never looking me in the eye. “She told me to just keep doing what I’m doing.”

“No way,” I responded, knowing that he was not the picture of healthy living at that time. “You’re lying.”

“No, I swear,” he answered, finally looking at me. “She told me to just keep doing what I’m doing.”

“So, everything is fine?”

“I guess so.”

For years, I have gone through this conversation in my head over and over. I will bet the conversation was more than likely one of… “If you aren’t going to do __________, then just keep doing what you’re doing.” I say this because so many things suddenly started happening.

For example, after more than a year of stalling, suddenly Bruce was on a mission to buy a house – someplace where “the mortgage could be managed easily on one salary”. (I can’t tell you how many times I heard that.) After we found that home, his next mission was to double his life insurance policy. There were also little hints, such as the sudden appearance of a stack of “important papers” on the kitchen counter by a man who believed in putting everything where it belonged – no stacks of papers anywhere.

But I never clued in…

Then, he died, and suddenly all these little things seemed liked clues that he knew what was coming. That new life insurance policy? … The new policy paperwork arrived for his final signature two days after he passed away. That stack of papers on the counter? … Every document I could possibly need after he died was in that stack… And list just seems to go on – so many things that suddenly made sense in the light of his death.

Much later, while packing away his things, I came across paperwork for some test on his heart… Tests dated five months prior to his death. Tests, that according to his doctor, he never completed… I couldn’t help but believe that he didn’t do them because he already knew what they would say… And it wasn’t good.

I won’t lie… I was angry… I was very angry. All I could think about was that I would do anything to be with Bruce… Why didn’t he? … It hurt so bad…

Now fast-forward about five years, and suddenly I am diagnosed with cancer… Suddenly, I am the one in the hot seat with choices to make. Initially, I decided I was not going to do the chemo/radiation thing. Then, after some research, I decided I was going to go full in – double mastectomy… take it all so I don’t have to ever worry about it again. Yet, after more research and more discussions with my healthcare team and my family, I decided to go less radical with a lumpectomy, then the chemo, radiation, and follow-up meds, as recommended.

The bottom-line, though, was… it was my choice. I did what I felt was right for me in that time and space. No, it was not anything I thought I would do years prior when Bruce and I had talked in our little MI kitchen. Nor was it what I thought I would do when first diagnosed. Instead, it was an evolution of thought that occurred over time and in the context of my life.

But it was my decision… my choice… And ever since that day, I have found myself with a very strong opinion about others (including the government) trying to make medical decisions for others. Our health is personal. Our lives are all different, with each having its own unique set of challenges and experiences.

Suddenly, I understood… Finally, I wasn’t so angry at Bruce anymore… He had made his decision. He felt that he was doing the right thing in that time and in that space… And while he chose not to share his burden with anyone, he was doing all he could to make the burden of his death a little bit easier for those of us left behind, (especially me).

As I watched the show last night and listened to each character speak about how they felt, I understood all of them… Every heartfelt statement made sense. Yet, my biggest support was for the main character, as he listened and weighed what each had to say before he explained his own thoughts and feelings on the matter.

In my heart, I was shouting, “Okay… y’all have had your say for him to consider. Now let it go… It is his choice, not yours. Like almost everything else our lives, accept that ultimately it is his choice, and learn to all be at peace with that.”

And that is where my heart is today… As I said, I lost that anger years ago when I suddenly found myself making decisions about “radical, lifesaving” healthcare. Granted, I made a different decision… that time. But who knows what my choice will be if confronted again?

Why? Because these decisions aren’t black and white… There are a lot of things to be considered. In my heart, I don’t believe that Bruce wanted to die. I do believe that he weighed the facts as he knew them and made the decision that he felt was best… I don’t like him being dead, but I respect his decision… I still grieve his death, but I am no longer angry. Instead, I am at peace knowing that he did what he felt was best… And that feels so much better 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

* Be advised that all comments are subject to approval prior to posting. Any comments determined to be spam or not in accordance with the mission of this website/blog will not be approved or posted. Furthermore, any comments determined to be hostile in nature will be reported to the proper authorities. Thank you.

Peace, Love and Grief… Merry Christmas

“The word which God has written on the brow of every man is Hope.” – Victor Hugo

I think that has been the piece of Christmas I have “re-discovered” this year… the feeling of hope. Each year… Each Christmas, I seem to adjust a little bit more. The first year I ran away to the Keys and ignored Christmas completely. The next year, I found myself singing along with the carols on the radio (still the only singing this former music teacher does since Bruce’s death). Then each year following, I have celebrated a little bit more year by year. But even last year, I wrote about smiling on the outside and trying to enjoy all that is “Christmas,” while crying on the inside for all I am missing.

I couldn’t seem to figure out how to move forward any further…

But this year… Well, this year I have loved the Christmas season. I have felt it from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. I have decorated, shopped with abandon, watched parades, played (and sang) Christmas music relentlessly, and gone for nightly drives to look at Christmas lights. I have smiled on the outside and on the inside. In other words, this year I have truly felt like celebrating… something I haven’t wanted or felt like doing for years.

In fact, last week, my daughter told me she had noticed. And not only had she noticed, but the change in my attitude had also meant the best of seasons for her and my grandson, as well. So, what made the difference this year?

Well, I believe it is hope. For the first time in years, I feel like there is hope… real, genuine hope in my life.

When Bruce died, I felt lost… abandoned… completely hopeless. I didn’t really care what the next day held, because no matter what a day might hold, it would be without Bruce. As time passed, I learned to appreciate life – at least, the brevity of life. I get frustrated with people who can’t understand how absolutely precious our time together is. We are never promised the next breath, and yet most of us take it completely for granted, even in the relationships of those who love us the most.

But that realization isn’t enough, or at least it wasn’t for me. That realization just made me miss Bruce even more. So why the change this year? Why now?

Well, maybe I’m wrong, but I believe it was my journey to survive this year. I think it was my realization this year that life is meant to be lived and appreciated – each moment of each day. There are things that bother us, but in all honesty, they don’t upset me or hurt my feelings the same way they used to… It’s just not worth it. Things happen… people say and do what they do and sometimes it is hurtful. We all do, (and usually don’t even realize it).

But here’s the thing – I am the only one responsible for how I choose to spend each moment… no one else. So, I can either make it a moment worth remembering or make it one I’d rather forget.

I guess, after fighting so hard to even be here, I’d rather have lots of moments worth remembering.

So, if you are reading this, and you are new to loss, or still trying to figure out how to move forward without your loved one, please know that you are in my prayers. And my prayer for you is that you can find that hope again… The hope that life is worth our time and our curiosity. The hope that each day will hold something so precious in store that we wouldn’t want to miss it.

So, on this Eve of Christmas eve, I pray that you will have a Christmas season filled with joy and laughter… and especially hope. Because those are the things that make life all it is meant to be.

“…each day of the journey is precious, yours and mine – we must strive to make it a masterpiece. Each day, once gone, is gone forever.” – John Wooden

What about you? Does any of this strike a chord with you? How does this season effect you? Are you able to celebrate? Or are you still struggling just to hang on and get to the other side of this season? Maybe you have found a different way to cope… There is no one right answer. 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… The tiger in a cage

I am learning.
Healing is finding peace within myself…
Not trying to draw it in from others…
Linda, Septermber 15, 2013

Grief is one of those things that people try to understand while at the same time trying to avoid the experience. I remember being told to “give it time.” In time, my “heart would heal.” However, some people (and books) were actually daring enough to admit that the pain would never completely heal… I remember reading that it would be more like a scar that still caused a dull ache every now and then.

Perhaps both of those experiences are true for some people – however, not for me. After three years, I can say without a doubt, it still hurts… a lot! For me, grief is more like a caged tiger… You may think you have it under control, but you must check the strength of the bars daily just to be safe.

Soon after Bruce passed away, I started tracking my dreams in my journal. I have always believed that our dreams subconsciously tell us a lot about what we are really thinking and feeling. They are our mind’s way of processing our life and emotions. Writing and tracking my dreams has allowed me to acknowledge and deal with a lot of emotions throughout this journey. I wrote about one of those dreams on the morning of January 24, 2013, just two weeks after Bruce’s death.

I don’t think I can survive this. Everyone says I’m doing great, I’m gonna be okay, I’m strong… but I don’t think so. This is more than I can bear. My heart is in pieces. I can’t even breathe and to move feels like a huge chore… This pain is too intense. No wonder some people die of a broken heart. Survival is such a struggle right now… You were my whole world… and now my world is gone.

I woke up last night about 11:30, and the song, The Hurt and the Healer, was playing. (I’ve never heard it before.) Before I woke up, I was dreaming I was on a playground, curled up in one of those baby swings. My guardian angel was pushing the swing and gently coaxing me to climb out. Then, he started singing that song, and I woke up… I think that dream and that song were sent to me for comfort…

This dream was all about my “tiger”… But I don’t believe it was “in its cage” yet. I was only a few weeks into this journey – I was still numb and raw and struggling for air. This was the dream of a woman who wanted to quit… But my life has become a testament of that same woman who has refused to quit.

As I said, for me, grief is like a tiger in a cage. One must learn to live with that tiger because ignoring it is denial and that holds a different set of dangers. Instead, one must learn to be courageous, and acknowledge it. However, never think the tiger has become tame enough for you to simply leave the door open or to go into the cage and sit peacefully beside it. No, it will always be dangerous… It will still devour you if you allow the opportunity.

In the last year, I have learned to decide my attitude before the day begins. I have learned to keep my tiger in its cage by starting the day with gratitude before my feet ever hit the floor. I have learned to be very careful about the first things I “feed” my mind in the morning. I stay away from email, Facebook, the news, or anything that might move my thoughts in a negative direction before I have had time to remember the blessings still surrounding me.

Before I started this practice and on the days I forget, it is like opening that tiger’s cage. It is dangerous territory. There is a saying that the things we focus on, expand. So for me, when the negative stuff is the first thing in, my mind starts to focus on that. Soon that focus turns to my grief and pain… And before I know it, the pain has expanded and takes over my day (or several days).

The other thing I must remember is that I will impact every person I encounter in a day… So my first choice of the day will not only impact me, it will impact everyone I meet, as well. It is up to me to decide if that impact will be a positive or a negative one.

I know that my grief and my pain were never my choice… That is my “tiger.” However, how I deal with it, my attitude and my daily outlook IS my choice. So, whether I choose to let that tiger loose or place it safely in its cage, is up to me.

I am responsible daily for choosing my attitude… And that attitude will determine the impact I have on the world around me.

I don’t always make the right choice… Some days I open up that cage, walk right in and sit for a while. But as time goes on, I am spending less and less time in that cage…

And that is my choice.

Do you have a story to share? A story about coming to terms with your grief? A story of your own tiger and how you handle it?

Please share your story with us… 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

* Be advised that all comments are subject to approval prior to posting. Any comments determined to be spam or not in accordance with the mission of this website/blog will not be approved or posted. Furthermore, any comments determined to be hostile in nature will be reported to the proper authorities. Thank you.

Peace, Love and Grief… We choose who we are

It was a typical Monday a few weeks ago and I was on my way to work at the the ridiculous hour of 6 AM. I had stopped at a local gas station for some caffeine, and while paying, the clerk asked the “required” question, “How are you today?” I smiled and responsed, “Fabulous! How about you?” He laughed and said anyone who could be fabulous so early on a Monday morning must have been sent to make HIS day better, too. We both laughed, and I walked out the door to continue my day.

That conversation is becoming more common these days. While it was definitely typical before Bruce passed, it was not typical for the first 2 years after he died. I was not fabulous and I just couldn’t fake it…

In the very beginning, I was in such shock that I don’t really remember a whole lot of what was happening. I have a few sketchy memories that let me know, I was breathing… but not functional. For example, the day after Bruce died (or the one after that), I was sitting on the couch by his Dad just staring at nothing… trying to just focus on breathing and not falling completely apart. When his Dad spoke up, “Are you going to contact a funeral home?”

Me – Do I need to?

Dad – Yes, you need to make arrangements for him.

He was right and he said with love, but it was horrible to hear. I didn’t want to do it… That would make everything way too real. I knew nothing about death and funerals and all the things I needed to do. I am sure the people around me must have helped and given me direction, but I don’t remember… I was lost somewhere deep inside myself.

I must have given the appearance of being fine because less than 2 weeks later, I was alone again. Rather than sit alone and stare at the walls, I went back to work. While it was good for me to be with people (my co-workers were wonderful), I can’t really say how productive I was… I can’t remember. I do remember looking out my office window (a lot)… it overlooks a major highway in our city and every semi-truck that passed brought a new round of tears. That’s where Bruce was supposed to be… I didn’t want to face this “new normal”… I couldn’t accept it as real.

If you are grieving and you remember these feelings… you are very normal and so am I. It is called shock (or grief brain). If you have watched someone going through this and thought they have lost their mind – they haven’t.
I’m not a doctor or a scientist but it was explained to me this way: The pain of losing someone we love can be so intense that the body will go into a protective mode by shutting down small parts of the brain until the person is better able to deal with the situation.

This initial shock usually lasts about 3 – 4 months. That is another issue… At the 3 – 4 month point, most of the people who have been checking in on you disappear from the scene. It is like clockwork, and every mourner I have spoken to has experienced it at about the same point. So here you are – the shock of your loss and a new life is wearing off… and the people who are still available to help you through it are few.

At this point, I found myself pulling in even further. I was so scared… I didn’t want to burn out the few people still listening and holding me while I cried… (Although, I probably did anyway.) I was completely lost and had no idea how to move forward. Breathing seemed to be the only “do-able” thing on the agenda.

That was then… so how did I get where I am now? Like turning the Titanic, it has been a long and slow process… and I am still working on it day to day.

Somewhere after the first 10 months, I met a wonderful life coach. She helped me realize that while I can’t control everything that happens in my world, I can control how I respond. Is it really that easy? No – not by a long shot! It is probably the hardest thing I have ever done… and I have to do it every single day.

You see, every morning when I wake up, I reach out… and next to me, I find emptiness. Each morning, I am reminded once again that Bruce is gone. This is real, and this is my life. This is my first choice of the day. I could fall apart at that point… I used to… and honestly, there are still some days when I STILL do.

But the majority of the time, I ask myself the same questions my dear friend and coach asked me a couple of years ago, “How do you think you are showing up for the rest of the world?” and “Is that how you want to show up?”

While they sound so simple, those are some pretty deep questions. I want to be honest about my experience and who I am now but I don’t want to bring the rest of the world down – I don’t want to be pitied or be a burden. Somehow, there needs to be a balance between being a positive part of society while still being honest and genuine.

I know how I want to show up… I want to be a positive part of other people’s day. (I don’t want to drag them down.) When I finally leave this world, I want to feel that I left it a little better than when I came in… I want to believe I made a positive difference to someone. But, I know I can’t do that if I am leaving sadness in my wake wherever I go.

I think for me, one of the biggest turning points came when I heard two mourners talking one day. One made the comment, “We can’t help the way we are, we didn’t ask for this. It’s not our fault and we can’t control it. The rest of the world can just deal with us.” She was right – we didn’t ask for this and it’s not our fault. But I realized she was also wrong – we can help it… we may not be able to control our grief every moment of every day, but we can certainly do our best to be our best.

More and more often lately, I hear how “strong” I am… I laugh inside because I’m not – at least I don’t feel strong. These two questions present a daily choice for me that isn’t easy or natural at this point in my journey… “Who do I want to be today?”

Some days I am better at the answer than other days… but I won’t give up. I refuse to be a “victim” of my circumstances. I refuse to let my grief control the rest of my life and who I am. I am determined to choose how I will live each day. I am determined to live as honestly and positively as possible, because ultimately… it really is up to me.

Because this is OUR community, please feel free to share your thoughts and experiences, too. Your experience may have been completely different. Please share it with us by going to the comments and leaving 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

* Be advised that all comments are subject to approval prior to posting. Any comments determined to be spam or not in accordance with the mission of this website/blog will not be approved or posted. Furthermore, any comments determined to be hostile in nature will be reported to the proper authorities. Thank you.