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Another Blue Christmas


STARKISS

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Hi All,

We are about to approach another Christmas day and all I can do is feel real blue... I do not know why the rest of my family is so cheery but I am so very blue... I feel like I am being a stick in the mud because I can not be as cheery as all of them...It was their parents too that died and not just mine.. Why am I feeling so lost... Help me Please... Shelley

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Shelley,

It does seem that some people just don't grieve as deeply as others, doesn't it? Or they grieve differently, I don't know. Just try to do your best, Shelley, and don't worry about it if you aren't the cheeriest person in the room. Soon, this will all be over and at least the Holiday pressure will be off! Take care of yourself and do what you feel is best for you, and don't feel guilty about it. Hang in there, sweetie.

Hugs,

Shell

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I feel actually the same way, i wish i could jump forward a couple of months. i think the more time that goes past the better it will be but i am beginning to doubt even that. i feel scared every day. the paniac attacks are happening alot and i am going to the dr in 2 weeks maybe to try something else. i will be thinking and praying for all of us. Lori

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Dear Everyone,

Your posts touched my heart.

I especially wanted to say that we SHOULD NOT feel guilty for being down at this christmas season.

Even my daughter, whom I dearly love and who lost her husband unexpectedly about three years ago, laughingly said I was a "bah-humbug" this year. It hurt my feelings - then later, when I thought about it, I realized it was just that SHE was so uncomfortable and really wants her mom to be happy.

Later I had a little talk with her and just explained that I was sorry I was not being joyful and 'christmassy', but this is the first Christmas without Dick and I'm very, very sad - and I think it's ok for me to not be joyful and feel like celebrating. She understood and we hugged.

It's not only hard for us - it's hard for friends and family, as well. I'm not even going to see my mom and sister tomorrow - Christmas - 'cuz I don't want to go anywhere. I'm NOT going to spend it in bed, though...I 'm determined to start thinking of the good in my life and the good that was in the wonderful man I was married to. I truly believe he is in a better place, and that has been helping!

Love to you all,

Benita

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I just wanted to share something on this subject.

I recently attended a gathering of the grief counseling organization that was of such help to me during the year right after my ex-husband died. The director was resigning to take care of her new baby. We had a very nice party for her. One of the counselors stopped by my chair and asked me how I was doing. I said I was feeling depressed lately, but that I feel foolish about it, because it has been 2 1/2 years since his death, and I "should be over it by now", people say, and I don't know why I keep feeling this way. She looked me right in the eye and said, "It's because you are honest. Most people pretend they feel better, but you are honest about your feelings."

So maybe that's it -- those of you who are grappling with your feelings this holiday season, when it seems like everyone around you has "moved on" -- maybe you're just more honest than they are capable of being. Maybe they are just afraid to confront or admit just how painful their feelings still are, so they are in denial.

Ann

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Hi All,

I just wanted to add that the family and I did manage to get together for two hours but it was like they were dragged there and really did not want to be there... I do think that they do it for me but I rather they didn't instead of doing the fakeness of being there

Thank you everyone for answering my post, It is certainly nice to know people care... Take care Shelley

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Shelley, dear,

From the e-mail messages you’ve sent to me and from the messages you’ve been posting in all of our forums, I understand that you are looking for whatever support you can find. I also understand that you are hurting from the loss of your parents and the home you had with them for so many years, from the loss of your friends and your job and whatever family togetherness you used to feel with your siblings, from the loss of your dog Chelsea who now lives with your brother, and from countless other losses you’ve endured over these last two years as a result of all the changes in your life. There is nothing any of us can say or do to remove your pain or change your circumstances ~ we can offer only our continued presence, and our willingness to walk beside you as you travel this journey.

I also want to offer you this. Over the last week I’ve been reading a lovely little book by Daniel Gottlieb entitled Letters to Sam: A Grandfather’s Lessons on Love, Loss, and the Gifts of Life. The book is a series of letters written by a grandfather to his young grandson. The author is truly “a wounded healer,” and knows from his own experience about living with and growing through devastating loss. He was severely injured in an auto accident twenty years ago, left paralyzed with quadriplegia, and has been confined to a wheelchair ever since. He’s also a practicing psychologist and psychotherapist who hosts a call-in radio show for a National Public Radio affiliate in Philadelphia, and he writes a regular newspaper column for the Philadelphia Inquirer. Six years ago Daniel's beloved grandson Sam was diagnosed with autism, when the boy was just under two years old. This book is his effort "to teach [sam] what I've learned about fighting against the kind of adversity that I face almost daily and that I fear he will face in his life. And I wanted to tell him how peace comes to us when we simply stop fighting. Most of all, I wanted to tell Sam about love . . . I wanted him to understand that as he gets older, giving love may be even more important than receiving it."

In one of his letters to his grandson Sam, “Losing Your Binky,” Daniel writes eloquently about attachment, loss and transition. In an effort to comfort Sam (who’s reluctantly agreed to give up his pacifier on the occasion of his fourth birthday), this wise grandfather notes that every change in life involves losing something we want, and the older we become, the more we are faced with adjusting to change, and loss, and longing for that which we have lost. He also makes the point that pain is transitional. He reminds us that our reactions to loss are temporary, and eventually they will pass. He writes,

Happy fourth birthday! I want to congratulate you on an important year for your growth and development . . .

Sam, change is difficult for all of us. The older we get, the more change we face. All change involves loss, and whenever we lose something, we ache to have it back. Everything I have lost in my life – big things and little things – I’ve wanted back at first.

So because we know that all change is loss and all loss is change, your mom and dad worried about how you would react when it was time to give up your beloved pacifier – your ‘binky.’

For several months before your birthday, your parents told you that four-year-olds don’t use binkies. In the final weeks, I could see you were both excited and scared about giving it up. On the big day, your mother took you toy shopping and traded in your binky for a toy. When you got home, you cried. ‘I don’t want to be four anymore!” you wailed. “I want to be three!”

Many years ago a British psychoanalyst named D. W. Winnicott coined the term ‘transitional object’ to describe how you move from dependence on your parents to independence. Things like baby blankets and pacifiers represent a parent’s touch and help you to manage anxiety and insecurity during this transition.

Remember how you cried that first night?

Now that you no longer have your binky, you have nothing to protect you from your anxiety. That’s why transitions are hard. Those transitional objects give us the illusion of security. When they are gone, we are left with the insecurity that’s been there all along.

Sam, almost everything we become attached to we’ll eventually lose: our possessions, our loved ones, and even our youth and health. Yes, each is a blow. But it’s also an opportunity. There’s an old Sufi saying: “When the heart weeps for what it’s lost, the soul rejoices for what it’s gained.”

As much as anyone who loves you would like to rescue you from your pain and give the binky right back to you, that wouldn’t be a good idea. Each stage of growth involves loss. Without it, you can’t have the gain.

So when you feel the pain of loss, please don’t grab at something to take away the pain. Just have faith that pain, like everything else, is transitional. Through it, you will learn about your ability to deal with adversity. You will learn about how you manage stress. You will feel pride. On the other side of the pain, you will learn something about who you are.

A friend of mine recently told me she had so many difficulties in her life that she felt like she was living in a nightmare and didn’t know what to do. I told her to find the bus station and wait for the bus! She looked at me like I was crazy. I explained that all emotions are temporary, and we can wait for them to pass as though we were waiting for a bus. We can wait with frustration, anger, or feelings of victimhood, but that won’t make the bus come any faster. We could wait with patience and relaxation, but that wouldn’t make the bus come any faster, either! Like all buses, it comes when it comes. We just have to have faith that it’s coming.

Everything is temporary – good feelings, bad feelings, binkies, grief. But maybe I don’t need to tell you that. When I visited you last week, just one week after your birthday, you didn’t bring up missing your binky one single time. And you seemed quite proud to be four instead of three.

Source: “Losing Your Binky,” in Letters to Sam: A Grandfather’s Lessons on Love, Loss, and the Gifts of Life, © 2006 by Daniel Gottlieb, Sterling Publishing Co., Inc., New York, ISBN1402728832, pp 109-111.

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Shelley,

You are never a bother here! We are always here for you and want you to post anything you need to talk about. I know you directed that post to Marty, but I just wanted to tell you too (as I'm sure Marty would tell you the same thing). We all love you and worry about you. Remember that.

Hugs, hugs, hugs,

Shell

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Hi All,

Today something totally amazing happened, I got to see Chelsea and eventhough I knew she had to leave I just loved being licked by her and hugging her.... I lost myself in the moment for a while and it felt so good.... I was able to be with her and I did not feel so sad and lonely eventhough it was a short visit... Take care Shelley

Here's wishing you all a little peace this holiday season...

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Thanks Lorikelly,

I hope everyone else has something special happen for them.. You do not think that you can feel anything but sadness this season but things change if only for a little while... Take care Shelley

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