new normal – Peace, Love & Grief

Peace, Love, and Grief… Where is My Focus

I have good friends.
I have good family.
I am in a good place.
So, why does it still hurt so bad?
~ Linda, 2021

In my morning readings this week, I came upon a list of the “Keys to Happiness”. The very first one stated, “Happiness is a choice.” Hmmm… I have heard this many times before and always find it interesting. As if our sadness, grief, depression, or whatever we are dealing with should be put aside, ignored, and is somehow our choice and our fault.

I am sure there are those who swear by this mantra, and (to a point) I get it. Generally speaking, I am a positive person. As a past performer, I know, as well as anyone, how to smile at the world when everything on the inside is falling apart. But let’s be honest… happiness isn’t our only emotion… And how healthy is it really to ignore all other emotions and only allow “happiness” – real or pretend – into our lives. I believe it is healthier to feel and work through those other emotions and situations, so that we can be our full, authentic self versus a pretend shadow of who we really are.

Don’t get me wrong… I understand the importance of knowing when and where to do that work, plus the added responsibility of implementing some emotional regulation and control. But completely ignoring all other emotions besides happiness isn’t realistic nor healthy for anyone.

Instead, I think it is more about where we decide to place our focus on any given day and at any given moment…

When Bruce first died, I heard all about this “new normal” that I needed to adjust to – the sooner the better, supposedly. Then, I was told that time would heal… That was all I needed – time. Yet, when that didn’t turn out to be the case, I was told that it was like an injury – the scar or limp would always be there, but the pain and such would fade – remembered but no longer really hurting. Again… That has not been my reality.

Instead, I have found it to be more like an object lesson about focus that we used to use with our kids in school…

Picture a dime… It’s small – not big at all. You can easily hold it between two fingers or hide it in your fist. Now, if you take that dime and hold it close to your face… So close that it blocks almost everything else from your view. At that point, it demands your focus. You have no choice since it is (almost) the only thing you can see. However, as you pull it further away – further back – the rest of the world starts to open up to you again. You can see all the things that were blocked before. Now… that dime is still there. It is the same size it has always been. You can still see it and hold it, but it no longer demands all your focus.

Grief is like that dime… There are days where that grief (dime) is simply a part of the landscape. You know it is there. You can see it, and you can even feel it when you let yourself think about it. In fact, it can easily take over your entire field of vision, if you focus on it a lot (or “too much” according to some). At that point, the pain becomes intense and everything else fades back into the background.

In the beginning, this was every moment of every day. Throughout the years, I have learned to hold that grief far enough out, so that most days I can see and enjoy the rest of my world. My grief isn’t gone; it just isn’t my entire focus. Instead, it is another piece in my life’s tapestry.

However, even now after all this time, there are still days when that grief does blot out everything else… And it isn’t like a scar or a limp… The pain and loneliness are just as strong and just as real as on day one. The only difference is that now, I have a better idea of how to handle it… and a better understanding of how to work through those moments so I can be stronger for the next one.

This week, as the anniversary of Bruce’s death approaches, that grief is getting closer and closer… Each day it seems to be blocking out more and more of the rest of my world. I understand why and I know that it will pass… But I also know that for the next several days, it will be my focus… And by acknowledging it and working through it, I believe I am being much healthier and kinder to myself, than if I ignored it and pretended I didn’t feel it at all.

There is a pain so intense
So deep
It cannot be healed.
It is my soul crying out for yours…
~ Linda, 2015

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Grief changes us. This journey is not an easy path for anyone… and at certain times of the year, it can be just a little bit harder. I don’t think any of us wants to on this path, but this is where life has landed us for now… This is where we are. Our lives are now filled with challenges we never imagined – especially during the holidays. Each time I think I have it figured out; I find I don’t at all, despite the years since Bruce passed. This next week will hold a lot of challenges for me, as I face the anniversary of Bruce’s death, but my goal is to look at this new year before me and find the joy and the hope life holds.

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.*

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Peace, Love, and Grief… Working on Grief

Sometimes loss happens slowly over time… usually due to some type of health decline. I have watched friends and family go through this type of loss, and I can’t imagine how hard that is. I have watched people I love grieve this type of loss twice – once before the loss (either in anticipation of what lies ahead or because they are slowly losing the person they knew or both). Then, sadly, the grief continues after the loss. The whole thing seems incredibly hard (and totally unfair).

For others, like myself, loss happens quickly. Bruce’s death was completely unexpected… We went to bed laughing and snuggling, but he never woke up… And my world was shattered. In fact, the shock was so great, it took me over a year just to truly believe that this wasn’t simply some awful nightmare. For the longest time, I continued to listen for his car turning into driveway or to look forward to his smile at the end of a rough day.

One thing I have learned, though, is that no matter how sudden or slow the loss occurs, the grief that follows cannot be ignored. Even if you try, at some point, that grief will bubble to the surface and demand to be dealt with. I am a “list” person, so in the beginning, I went hunting for a list of things to do to work through my grief. I just wanted to know what to do so that once the list was completed, I would feel better, the grief would gone, and I could get on with my life. (Silly, I know, but that was how I thought it would work.)

I will say I found a whole book of suggested actions to take that really were helpful in working through my grief. However, it still wasn’t like the checklist I had hoped for. Instead, I found that grief is one of those things that must be worked on and worked out daily… for as long as it takes – which is different for every person and every loss… And the other kicker – All of this work really must be done in your “ordinary” life. The problem is… it can take weeks or months for your life to resemble any definition of “ordinary”, (which may require more than a little bit of patience with yourself).

I remember when Bruce died, everyone came – his family… my family… friends… co-workers. Granted, after a few weeks, most of these people had to go back home. At the same time, there continued to be a never-ending stream of flowers, cards, phone calls, messages, and visitors that went on for weeks and months… This was not even close to an “ordinary” life. Also… while I was grieving during this time, I couldn’t really work on it. I was in too much shock and there was too much going on for me to figure out how this new feeling of complete loss was going to fit into my life.

For the next several months, I focused my energy on planning his memorial service. (This I had postponed until his ashes were returned to me and our families were able to come back.) Again – this was not even close to an “ordinary” life.

After that there was also the “business” side of loss – insurance, probate, redoing names on various accounts, and all of the other (unending) paperwork that had to be completed. Once again… nothing ordinary in any of these things.

However… there does finally reach a point where “your people” have gone back to their lives (believing you are doing “okay”), there are no more ceremonies, and all of the business is completed… This is when things get quiet… It gets real quiet… And while grief is hard from the beginning, this is when the grief gets harder. Why? Because with this overwhelming silence comes the feeling that this grief is going to literally devour you… This is where I knew I would have to find a way to face it (and work on it), if for no other reason than simple survival.

Also, about this time, I started hearing the term “new normal”. Oh my! How I hated that term. This life was not normal, nor did I want it to be. For me, that phrase seemed to imply something positive or exciting – like a new adventure… This new life was far from that.

It was also at this point that I constantly found myself wandering through our home looking for… what? Bruce? I don’t know. Other times, I could be found sitting in the middle of the living room sobbing and yelling at God… Or maybe just sitting on the couch in total silence – staring at the wall for hours.

Then, I found that list I wrote about earlier… True, it wasn’t the checklist I thought it would be. However, it was a great way to start taking the some of that energy from my grief and refocusing it in more positive, healthy ways. When that list was completed, and my grief was still there… still strong… still crushing, I knew that this journey was going to require more of me… It was going to be a day-by-day challenge with some days being more successful than others.

And that is where I am… Still working on this grief thing one day at a time.

While my grief no longer controls every waking moment, I still wake up each morning and am reminded that I am alone. At that point, I must make a choice as to what kind of day it is going to be… Will it be a day of grieving all day or will it be a day where I can say, “I love you, Babe… I still miss you,” blow him a kiss, and then smile as I move through my day.

I must say that some days that choice is easier than other days… Yet, to my way of thinking, that’s okay too. I am moving forward and that is my goal.
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This journey isn’t easy… not that you need me to tell you that. Loss can be traumatic, and the grief we are left to figure out is hard. Thankfully, though, there are moments and actions we can take to refresh our souls – Moments where I learn a little bit more about faith, life, and love.

Thankfully, as the years pass, I can honestly say that there are more of these good moments than bad. Each day, I continue to learn more and more about those things that seem to help me heal and move forward – like sharing precious memories. So, I will continue to allow myself the space I need to heal and process this life without my love… without Bruce. Thankfully, at this point in my journey, I am learning that I am not alone – thanks to you!

In fact, none of us need to be alone, because 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 and helps us to process that avalanche of emotions that grief brings us. 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… What is the opposite of sad?

Through this blog I have met (both virtually and physically) many other widows. The conversation each time is eerily similar to the topics discussed here… While my experience is mine, it is also very similar to thousands of other widows’ (and widowers’) experiences… That is one of the reasons I started writing this… I needed to know and I wanted others to know that we are not alone… Our experiences are more “normal” than one could have ever imagined.

While I have gotten better at ignoring it, I have found over the past several years there is one consistent theme which can be very frustrating… The idea that after a certain amount of time has passed, we shouldn’t be sad. This can be worded several different ways, and I have written about those before… I have heard everything from the direct, “Don’t be sad…”

“… You’re not the only one to ever lose someone.”

“… He’s in a better place.”

“… You know you can choose to feel better or have a better attitude.”

“… It looks weak.”

“… Be strong.”

“… What will others think?”

To the craziest one, “You have to stop being sad, because I (the other person) can’t handle it anymore.”

In the beginning, these phrases made me nuts… maybe even angry at times. I was grieving. I was sad. Why couldn’t people understand that and simply walk beside me for a while? A genuine, caring hug could go such a long way, but the only people who seemed to understand that were those who had walked this journey before me…

As time has passed, I have come to realize that this reaction most likely stems from several things, but the two main components seem to be: 1 – They haven’t been where I am and have absolutely no frame of reference for the pain; 2 – It is a real struggle for them to watch someone they love hurt so intensely, while knowing they can’t fix it.

In other words, it is a response born out of desperation and fear. I can actually understand that… That makes sense to me. I believe they aren’t as frustrated with me as with their own inability to “make it better.”

What they don’t realize (and why it hurts so badly on this end) is these responses feel as if they invalidate our pain and our loss. Plus, there is something else they don’t realize… Something it took me years to realize…

Even when you get to the point where your grief is not the only emotion in your world… Even when you have learned to smile again, you realize that just because you are not sad all the time, doesn’t necessarily mean you are happy. Simply put, despite what we learned as children, the opposite of sad is not necessarily happy. This particular journey in life is a bit different… It shakes you down to your core and changes you in ways you can’t understand.

So, I propose something I learned from a Harvard psychology professor… “The opposite of sad may not be happy. It may simply be ‘not sad.’” Happy, on the other hand, is a completely different emotion, and its opposite may be “not happy.”
I’m sure there are some people who might argue this. However, there are also a few who will understand… and most of those will be those of us who have actually experienced the grief of deep loss.

Before I lost Bruce, “happy” was my norm. Now, “happy” is an experience… “Neutral” seems to be my norm most of the time… a quiet, peaceful enjoyment of the people around me… For me, that is my opposite of sad.

While I am sure there are those who don’t understand or agree… Since “neutral” is not “happy,” they might interpret it as “sad.” Perhaps, they have trouble understanding this because they want us to be as we were before. However, I can never be as I was before… I can’t un-feel this pain that has reshaped my life.

I am still me, but I am different now. Bruce will always be a part of me… and a part of me will always grieve his loss. For me, I have found that the opposite of sad has been simply learning to open my heart to other emotions…

It is learning to be at peace with “what is” rather than grieving for “what was.”

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

What about you? Did you or have you struggled with other’s reaction to your loss? How did you come to terms with it? Or do you still need support in that area? Would you be willing to share your story or your thoughts?

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

Peace, Love and Grief… After the Storm

When I wrote last week’s blog, we were hours away from my first hurricane experience – not something I was looking forward to at all. God has blessed us, though, and here we are on the other side of that storm… Cleaning up and putting our lives back together… A lot like grief…

It’s funny, but as that storm was closing in, I found I wasn’t really scared. I thought I would be, but I wasn’t. Instead, it was one of those situations where I knew we had done all we could to prepare… It was just a matter of listening to the news so we could take refuge in our “safe space” when needed. The rest was out of our hands – It was up to God… I just needed to find that space where I trusted him to take care of us.

Even that night, it reminded me of the night Bruce died. Even back then, I didn’t break down or fall apart. I cried, yes, but my mind pushed back the reality of the situation and instead focused on what needed to be done. So, I came home and started making phone calls and preparing for the family which would soon arrive. Just like this past Sunday, I seemed to just go into “auto-pilot,” doing those things I knew I needed to do. However, on the inside, I simply felt numb, trying not to think about what was happening around me – not allowing myself to dwell on those things I couldn’t control… If I am honest, I can’t say I was in a “trust God” space back then… It was more like a “don’t-panic-this-is-only-a-dream” space.

Hurricane Irma was huge and took hours to pass. Of course, as luck would have it, we found ourselves on the northeast side of the storm – the side which usually incurs the most damage… the part of the hurricane which also has no calm eye in the middle… no small space in which to catch our breath. Instead, the night was filled with wind, rain, tornadoes and darkness… lots and lots of darkness.

Similarly, losing Bruce felt just like a hurricane in my life… This was something I never dreamed I would have to endure. Also, there was no calming eye in the middle of that storm, either… And, there seemed to be no safe place for me to catch my breath… just a lot of chaos, not knowing what would happen next and darkness… lots and lots of darkness…

Waking up on this last Monday morning felt surreal, as we slowly ventured out of our home to see what kind of damage Irma had left in her wake. Within a few hours (and with a little help), I was removing downed trees and debris and salvaging others. It has taken all week, but I have removed and stored the storm shutters, put all the potted plants and outdoor furniture back in place, and put away all the Hurricane kit items. In an effort to return to “normal,” most of us (myself included) even returned to work on Tuesday, despite no power, minimal water, road closures, no gas, empty grocery stores and no school for the kids. In other words, it has been a week of acting like everything is fine, even when it wasn’t.

We were lucky, our damage was minimal… Everything we lost can easily be replaced… This is where the two storms differ.

During those first few months after Bruce died, I slowly understood this was my new “normal.” It felt surreal at first, but it didn’t take too long for me to start to understand and experience the “damage” left in the wake of his death. Unlike Irma, the damage left in the wake of Bruce’s death was not minimal and can not be easily fixed… I am still working on that…

I have spent years “trying to return to normal” … only I don’t seem to know what “normal” is any more… There are so many days when I feel like I am “acting like everything is fine, even when it isn’t.”

So, what now?

Hurricane Irma is gone… We have picked up, cleaned up and moved on with life. But losing Bruce? That is a different type of storm… It is one which has left some damage which will never be repaired. As for the rest, I know it is a process… A process where each day holds its own challenges (and accomplishments)… I know I can’t rush it or fix it or make it all go away. Instead, I must wake up each day, look at the challenges ahead, and move forward – fixing what I can and being patient when I can’t…

This is my hurricane… And, I guess, this is my life after “the storm.”

Everyone deals with grief’s emotions in their own way… These are only my thoughts and observations as this hurricane reminds me of life’s many lessons on this journey. Maybe grief has been that way for you, as well. Learning to navigate this storm tends to show us we are stronger than we thought we were able. If any of this feels familiar, we are here, you are not alone. If you would like to share your experience or if you need a helping hand or even a virtual hug, let us know… we are here for you. To leave a comment or story, go to the comments and leave us a note. *

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… Does Grief Change You?

“Of course we change. Maybe not the entire personality traits but the way we react to certain things, events, and people. The way we observe life changes.”
~ daughter2010, Grief Healing Discussion Group

All my life, I have been happy… Like anyone, I had my sad moments, but overall, I was always able to see the positive side of anything… I could always find something to like about anyone. That positive attitude has guided my life and my attitude for as long as I can remember…

But now… Well, I don’t know…

When I lost Bruce, I was devastated. I couldn’t comprehend the idea of a life without him… a life without “us.” I felt a lot of emotions (and not one of them was positive). I was angry… very angry. And I trusted no one… After all, if I couldn’t trust God, who could I trust?

I was told all these negative thoughts and emotions are a normal part of grief, but they were new to me. I had never felt such intense negativity before, and to be honest, I didn’t know what to do with it. Like I said, I had been sad and angry before – but never to this degree or for this long. I felt like I was being sucked into a dark hole, and I couldn’t find my way back out… And that was just the beginning of the journey… There was still a long road ahead.

Thankfully, I have a few friends and family members who have stayed by my side… who didn’t let my emotional roller coaster scare them away. While they hadn’t lost a spouse, they seemed to understand the range and depth of the emotions I felt. They never gave up on me… They never told me how to feel or not feel. They never made me feel wrong or crazy. They just stayed by my side, listened and held me when I cried.

I remember talking to them in the beginning and sharing my fear of becoming an angry, bitter old woman… It seemed like a very real possibility. Their answers were simple and kind… They told me they didn’t think that would happen, and they would tell me if it did. And through the years, they have never lost faith in me.

The truth is, though, I have changed… While I haven’t become the bitter, angry woman I feared, I am no longer the positive, “trust-the-world-no-matter-what” person I used to be. Instead, I seem to find myself somewhere in the middle.

While I’m not always sure I like who I am, I know I can’t go back to who I was. As with any trauma, grief has created a “new normal.” I’m still me… I still have the same characteristics, but it’s all different. It seems as if the balance of those characteristics has changed. And because of this change, I see and experience the world differently now.

For example, I have always been an introvert. (Don’t confuse this with being shy – I’m not.) I love and care about people – I enjoy being with people. However, my energy for life comes from those quiet moments alone – from the peace I find in solitude. (Bruce was the same way, so with him, this felt normal.) Since Bruce died, this characteristic has not changed, but it has become greater.

Whereas in the past, I would take these moments where I could and make do, now I purposely seek out this time for myself. Those around me seem to accept it even if they don’t understand it. Thankfully, it is rarely seen as selfish… In fact, it is common to hear “I know all is normal, when you are off by yourself writing in your journal or just sitting alone.”

There are other changes, though that seem to be more noticeable… and perhaps harder for the people around me to accept…

For example, in the past I was much more chatty, (which evidently seemed friendlier). Now, however, I listen more and talk less. Like before, I still talk to anyone, but now I’m not real inclined to initiate the conversation. I guess, I’m no longer interested in small talk… That is not my comfort zone, and is a bit of a struggle for me. However, I really do enjoy listening to people and their stories – I love a real conversation – something genuine… And is that really a bad thing?

As I said, the characteristics seem to stay remain the same just the balance changes…

Another example, is my need to express myself creatively. In the past, I did this in more organized ways, such as choirs and theater, but that all stopped when Bruce died. My need for genuine expression, however, is still here. Only now it shows up in new ways, and has become my avenue for grief and healing.

For example, I’m not a “lay-in-bed-and-pull-the-covers-over-my-head” widow; nor am I a “forget-it-and-move-on” widow. (Don’t get me wrong… There is nothing wrong with those. You should do whatever is right for you. They just aren’t me.) I have found I need to express my grief in a more tangible way… That is where I have found healing.

So far (and I say, “so far,” because I am sure there will be more), I have taken up gardening and landscaped my yard (before I avoided yard work at all costs). I have painted pictures filled with rage and hurt, as well as pictures of our favorite places (whereas before I only painted theater sets and wall murals). I, also, started writing (first in a journal and now this blog).

For whatever reason, this has become my way of remembering Bruce and honoring his memory. Will I do it forever? I don’t know… All I know is I have to heal in my own way… And this feels right for me in this moment…

One the biggest changes for me, though, has been my own emotional strength… My belief in myself and learning to live the life I want, rather than living my life to please others. This has been the biggest change for me. I grew up to be a “pleaser.” I would avoid conflict at all costs… I just wanted everyone to be happy and “get along.” However, while that feels “safe ” to me, it is not healthy, and the cost was high. By trying to please everyone else, I lost myself.

However, when Bruce and I were married, he encouraged me to simply be me. He showed me how to be strong. He showed me it was possible to be kind and loving, while still being true to myself. Even then, there were a few people in my life that balked at this. But I had Bruce’s support, and I was learning to find that balance.

Then suddenly, he was gone… I felt so lost. Now I had to find that strength on my own, and it was hard. I know there are those who struggle with my strength/confidence and push back… It’s not the way I was. At times like this, I doubt myself… I think it would just be easier to go back to my old habits. But then, I think of Bruce and the strength he saw inside me, and I keep going.

So the question was “Does grief change you?” I have to say, “yes.” I know it has changed me… Then, the next question is “Do I accept that or do I go back to who I was before?”… Honestly, I can’t go back – not anymore… The loss of Bruce has changed my entire world. It has changed my whole outlook on life and those things I value and hold dear…

I guess this is me now… And I think I’m okay with that.

“I must think for myself and come always from a place of love.”
~ Wayne Dyer

Learning to navigate through this journey is different for everyone… For many of us, the changes created by our grief can be confusing and overwhelming to ourselves and others. Learning to be open to new possibilities can feel impossible at times. Yet at other times, this is what gives us hope. We all move through this journey at our own pace and in our own way… and we each have our own experiences. If this feels familiar, we are here… you are not alone. If you are someone who needs a helping hand or even a virtual hug, let us know… we are here for you. To leave a comment or story, go to the comments and leave us a note. *

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… Whose life is this?

Without Bruce, I feel like a stranger in my own life.
~ Linda, May 21, 2013

This past week as I scrolled through my Facebook “On This Day” memories, I came across this post. The moment I read it, I felt transported back in time. I may have written that three years ago, but I immediately remembered that feeling and all the emotions that went with it.

I can remember feeling that way for at least the first 2 years… When Bruce passed away, my entire life changed so radically and so quickly. Most of the time, I would describe it as feeling “lost,” but in all honesty, I think the phrase above is much more accurate… I just felt like I didn’t belong anywhere – not even in my own life.

Bruce’s death, that sudden loss, felt like being dropped in the middle of a dream… I had no idea where I was, how I got there or how to get back where I felt I belonged… The catch? This was not a dream – this really was my life.

I can remember telling anyone who would listen that I hated my new life… I wanted my life back… my old life… my real life… But that never happened. I remember praying constantly I would wake up and find it was all a dream, but that never happened either. This really was my life… So why did I feel like I was the only character that no longer belonged in it?

Nothing was the same as before… I had lost so much more than a husband. I lost that one person that helped shape each moment of every day. We went to bed together and woke up together. We made the bed together and cooked together. We laughed together, played together and snuggled on the couch together.

Don’t get me wrong… We also had our time apart. However, I always knew that at the end of the day, when all was said and done, he would be there with a smile and a hug. Those strong arms were always there to hold me tight no matter what was happening… That was where I felt safe. How was I supposed to go on without any of that? How was I supposed to act as if this “new normal” was really normal?

So many times in those first years, I found myself wondering through our house looking from room to room for someone who was no longer there. I felt like a child wondering in the dark… lost, alone, afraid. So many times, I simply sat crying for hours in the middle of the living room floor waiting… just waiting.

It took a few years, but slowly I began to realize that everything I felt was not only normal, it was accurate. I was a stranger in my own life. I was lost. Everything I had thought I could count on day to day had disappeared in a breath.

And there was another side to that coin…

In that same moment when I lost so much, I also acquired many new responsibilities. Everything in my personal life now depended on me and only me. No longer did I have anyone to ask, “what do you think about…” or “how do I fix….” or “can you handle…” or “can you help me with…” Instead, I had to learn how to do everything myself – from handling the taxes to fixing the dishwasher to pressure washing the driveway and handling the car maintenance… and all while grieving the loss of the man I loved more than life itself.

Once I gave myself permission to feel everything I felt without guilt… Once I gave up trying to be a “good widow” (Whatever the heck that is!), I was finally able to work through the frustrations and fears. I was even able to start congratulating myself on each small success… each step toward reclaiming my life.

This small acceptance allowed me to work my way through so many emotions. Slowly through time, I have been able to see the progress I have made since that first day. In fact, I have come so far that I can honestly say I no longer “feel like a stranger in my own life.”

While I still miss Bruce every day, I am learning to love my life again. For the most part, I am joyful and peace-filled. I am no longer focused on me and what is missing in my life. Instead, I am learning to focus on who I am in each moment, being genuine to myself and striving to contribute something worthwhile to the world around me… the same way Bruce did.

What about you? What kind of struggles or fears o you remember coping with after your loss? How did you come to terms with these? Or do you still need support in that area? Would you be willing to share your story or your thoughts?

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

Peace, Love and Grief… When the ground falls out from under you

This week I was watching the movie, Pompeii, as I ran on my treadmill. Near the beginning, there is a scene in which a man is riding a horse alongside what appears to be a river’s edge when the horse becomes skittish. The man pauses and looks around to see what is causing the horse’s fear. Suddenly the horse rears back, the man is tossed to the round and the horse runs away. The man gets up to chase after the horse, when the ground around him starts to shake and split apart. Just as he realizes what is happening… in that breath of a moment… the ground falls out from under him, and the chasm where he has fallen is immediately filled with water from the river. In the following scene, the horse returns to the gates of the owner’s villa without his rider. The people inside are puzzled… no one understands what has happened to the man, but no one goes looking. Instead, they go back to their business and life at hand, as the movie continues.

Although I have watched this scene many times before, this time it hit me… this is what loss feels like. One minute you are standing on solid ground, (you may or may not have a sense that something isn’t quite right), and the next minute the grounds falls out from under you. Within “seconds” you are drowning in a flood of grief and emotions. The rest of world may wonder what has happened to you, but very soon they return to their own lives.

It is a strange experience… to watch the world go back to their “normal lives” while your world is in upheaval. Everything you thought you knew or could count on is either gone or completely different. Your “normal” is gone. You can never return to life as it was. This is what the world calls a grief journey… This what you are told is your “new normal.”

I spent the entire first year raging against this “new normal.” I felt such a range of emotions. I felt abandoned by God… Bruce… everyone around me. I was jealous of the people whose lives were untouched in my eyes. I felt alone despite the people trying to support me. In other words, I felt a whole gamut of emotions, and while I would deny it to anyone who asked at the time, anger was the unlying emotion to it all.

The second year didn’t fare much better with one exception. I was learning that I had a choice in how I responded to my own emotions. In other words, my emotions were normal and valid. (A person feels what they feel.) However, how I acted on those emotions, aka – my attitude, was up to me… it was my choice.

At first, I was quite resistant to this idea. I could come up with excuse after excuse to explain why my emotions were valid and therefore, my attitude was too. But, thankfully, there were (and still are) people in my life who refused to watch me drown.

I worked intensely with a coach who had unlimited empathy but who wasn’t scared to ask me the tough questions. She didn’t mind making me mad now and again in order to help me move forward in a more positive direction. I, also, found myself reading the books and listening to the speakers that had driven Bruce’s peaceful attitude toward life and people. And finally, out of my anger toward God, I went on my own search and found the answers to my own spiritual and faith questions.

Like turning the Titanic, I slowly began to make the changes needed in my own atttitude to turn my world around. Finally last fall, I had one of those epiphany moments when I realized two major things about my attitude: 1. It is completely my own… My attitude is my choice. 2. This meant my attitude does not need to be a result of my circumstances. I can choose to make it a result of the peace, love and joy in my heart.

Like any journey, this epiphany opened the way for more growth… I came to understand that peace, love, joy and my own happiness do not come from other people or the circumstances surrounding me. Instead, I have to find these within myself.

I have had to dig deep. I have learned to separate the truth and facts from the fictious, negative stories my inner voice loves to convince me are real. This has enabled me to stop playing the “victim” in my own story, and become the victor instead.

While there are many people I have studied and read over the last few years, I believe Wayne Dyer put it most succinctly when he said,…

“Be in a state of gratitude for everything that shows up in your life. Be thankful for the storms as well as the smooth sailing. What is the lesson or gift in what you are experiencing right now? Find your joy not in what’s missing in your life but in how you can serve.”

What about you? Did you or have you struggled with living your life with happiness and joy after your loss? How did you come to terms with it? Or do you still need support in that area? Would you be willing to share your story or your thoughts?

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