Articles Worth Reading

[MartyT]

A wonderful article via Widow's Voice that describes what can happen in grief counseling when a skilled therapist is paired with a client who is willing to do the work: Full Circle ♥

[enna]

This is a great article by Maria Shriver about change ~ we all go through it.

Change is inevitable. Do you have a ‘Change Consultant’? — I'm one, here's why you should be one too: http://mariashriver.com/…/change-consultant-transition-ive…/

[LadyCarrie]

Thank you, Anne, for the article. So many losses. So many changes. Yet there is hope. There must be hope. I search for it, and often find it here. We who follow definitely need consultants. Those who serve (help) others, serve God. Thank you.

Hugs,

Carrie

[MartyT]

Lots of wisdom in this piece: Grief is powerful. Here are 6 lessons survivors learned from tragedy.

[kayc]

I've learned this and so much more! I really don't have "regrets". I hear so many people talk about regrets, but George and I lived each day to the fullest and fully loved each other, so how can I have regrets? I do wish the HOSPITAL would have done things different, but that is not something of MY OWN to regret...it lays with them. We can't change others. I have learned so much through this grief journey that I have come to appreciate it for what it's brought into my life. Because of it, I am a deeper more compassionate person. I realize what is important and what isn't. That doesn't mean I wouldn't will George back in a heartbeat if I could, but we all know that's not a choice that's mine to make. But being as this is the road that is mine, I have come to fully embrace and appreciate it. I hesitate to say that to new grievers because I know that's not something they can begin to understand right now. It takes years to get it. Some of the others who have been on this journey with me for a few years (say, three or more) may understand what I'm talking about, I don't expect others to. I have learned to LOOK for good, because my life wasn't just automatically blissful after I lost George. That in turn changed my focus, my attitude. By LOOKING for good, it makes you a more positive-focused person. I've learned to live on my own and make myself #1 priority. I've learned to self-heal. I've learned to by content. I've learned to live in and fully appreciate the present.

[MartyT]

In her weekly newsletter, our friend and colleague Megan Devine writes eloquently today about finding interest in work (or anything else) following significant loss: Refuge in Grief Weekly Newsletter

[MartyT]

"If nothing else, my loss has taught me this: everything changes, in this world, everything. Everyday."

~ Widow's Voice: Count On This

[enna]

Changing Unnecessary Suffering Into Acceptance Of The New When Grieving

By Lou LaGrand | Submitted On May 15, 2015

"No pessimist ever discovered the secrets of the stars, or sailed to an uncharted land, or opened a new heaven to the human spirit." - Helen Keller

Since change is a condition of existence, we have to continually make adjustments in the way we deal with the altered conditions to be faced. Grieving is all about developing a new normal and often some new skills to deal with our different life. And unless we have a vision of where we want to go and how to get there, the tendency to spin our wheels, cling to the past, and not meet goals is guaranteed. Our vision has to include not only where we are going, but equally important, how we will establish a new relationship with our deceased loved one.

Accepting the new without our loved one is often fertile ground for creating unnecessary suffering. However, there is more than enough pain and suffering without unknowingly adding to our burden. So how can we reduce unnecessary suffering and work toward accepting the new life we must live? Here are five beginning strategies.

1. Strengthen your inner life. We all have programming that hurts or helps us when grieving. Coping well with any major change in life is directly dependent on the condition of your inner life, what you say to yourself, your belief system, memories, choices, and most importantly your willingness to change and be open to the new circumstances of your life. The key word here is "open."

We all like the familiar and the certainty that usually goes with it. However, life is all about continuous change and how we choose to adapt to those changes.

We have to court insecurity in order to adapt new ways of dealing with a life that is moving onward. Therefore, carefully examine how you speak to yourself. Are you more positive in your thoughts or are you thinking more on the negative side? The more positive you can be, the more you will be able to be open to ideas and experiences you have never had previously. Consciously practice self-talk that says you can deal with the changed circumstances you now face. Look in the mirror and say "I am capable and good." Tell yourself you have the courage to meet tomorrow and the next day and on and on.

2. Work at getting rid of your "labels." People like to throw labels on others, especially in their early years. Sometimes we place them on ourselves due to a mistake or failure we experienced. Everyone has labels, either interpreted as good or bad. Regrettably, they are mostly bad. Can you remember in high school labels like nerd, failure, sissy, dingbat, loser, uncool, ugly, and the list goes on? Sometimes those labels come from people in our family ("He's not our best student") or teachers. Think of the labels you have been living up to and whether or not they are harming your ability to deal with your great loss. The ones you bought into can have a terrible effect on your self-esteem and your coping strategies.
If you have taken the labels dumped on you (or you dumped on yourself) in your earlier years and turned them into fixed beliefs, you are in deep trouble. Why? Because those beliefs keep you from changing. They block you from taking in more useful beliefs and behaviors. Remember, they are only labels, not who you really are. You can be who you want to be, not some fictitious character someone laid on you. You have the inherent ability to cope with any change life throws at you. And it will have an incredible influence on your inner life. Start with the fact that your thoughts create your identity.

3. Gradually let go of and eventually eliminate resistance. It is quite normal to not want to accept the great burden you must deal with. Yet, keep in mind that by resisting what cannot be changed you prolong the intensity of your grief and add loads of unnecessary suffering to the process. Yes, grief will revisit as time moves on because we don't "get over" our grief we learn to live with it. One way to live with it is to let your emotions out as naturally as they surface. Refuse to be strong and stuff your hurt and tears deep inside. Let your tears and emotions work through you. They appear for a reason: to express them and help you through the present moment. They are a normal human response to loss. So let them out. And in the process, become aware of and get rid of disempowering thoughts.

4. Learn not to grieve 24/7. Grief is the expected response when something dear to us is suddenly no longer there. But it is not a process we are expected to be involved in without a periodic break. To grieve without a daily break is to guarantee developing a health problem. The reason for this is quite simple. Grief is a highly stressful experience. It makes major demands on your physical as well as emotional self. Part of your grief work is to allow for time to give your body a needed break to reenergize so you can continue on with adapting to all the new experiences and challenges.

If you refuse to change the scene for an hour or two each day, to rest and recharge, then you can expect excessive pain and sadness. Get out and do something just for you like yoga, meditation, gratitude practices, shopping, nature walks, exercise as well as strengthening your spiritual life. It is perfectly okay to show some compassion to yourself and do things that make you feel better and enjoy a focus on something other than grief. Go to places and seek to be with people who are at peace and full of energy.

5. Accept what is: the things you cannot change. This means looking at your great loss in a different way. It means letting go of some of the old reasoning you may have picked up in your younger years: like be strong. Fight back those tears. You'll find someone else. You will find closure (There is no such thing as closure.). And the false list goes on with the added problems you try to solve with little or no success. Such faulty thoughts and beliefs block the number one task of the grief process: to accept the reality of your great loss and integrate it into your life. Not easy to do and it takes time and practice, practice, practice. Ask your Higher Power for "the serenity to accept the thing you cannot change." Find a way to perceive death as an integral part of life. Ask those who teach or practice this view how they arrived at it.

In summary, notice that the bottom four of the five outlined above all have an effect on the quality of your inner life. In particular, one of the secrets of the good life and coping well is resilience. Other words for resilience are changeable, bendable, adaptable, adjustable, and variable. Your degree of resilience and finding ways to increase it will do much to help you grieve and accept the new. You are powerful and never forget it. Don't let anything take that power away from you.

Dr. LaGrand is a grief counselor and the author of eight books, the most recent, Healing Grief, Finding Peace: 101 Ways to Cope with the Death of Your Loved One. He is known world-wide for his research on the Extraordinary Experiences of the bereaved (after-death communication phenomena) and was the founding President of Hospice & Palliative Care of the St. Lawrence Valley, Inc. His monthly ezine-free website is http://www.extraordinarygriefexperiences.com.

Article Source: http://EzineArticles.com/?expert=Lou_LaGrand

[kayc]

This is what I learned the first few years, all summarized nice and neat!

[MartyT]

This from a bereaved mother:

Thinking Positively, by Elaine Stillwell

When you are heartbroken, hurting, and vulnerable, sometimes an empowering thought can lift you out of the doldrums, bring a smile to your face, and even give your attitude a do-over. After losing my two oldest children, 21 year old Denis and 19 year old Peggy in the same car accident, I read everything I could get my hands on that would tell me how to survive. Read on here >>>

[kayc]

Thank you, Marty. It is what I have learned over the years...I esp. love the one about appreciating today vs. where you want to be. We can be so busy looking back that we miss what good there is in today.

I downloaded a PDF to save and it changed the formatting from what you view when I saved it...did anyone else have this experience? I tried different ways, same results.

[MartyT]

Oftentimes in these forums we use the term "grief work" or speak of "doing the work of grief." If you're not sure what we mean, you may find this article by bereaved mom Nan Zastrow helpful: You've Got The Power -- How To Know If You Are Doing Your Grief Work

Donna's spouse died suddenly. It wasn't suppose to happen, yet," was all that she could think of as she coped to accept the reality of the event. For months, she was incapacitated by her grief... unwilling to let go of the deepest regrets and lingering pain.

Donna's reactions were normal. Many people who grieve deeply believe that grief is passive. They believe grief will just resolve itself over time. Others search aimlessly for a cure. They want to believe there is some magic potion their physician can give them that will cure the pain, forever. Some grievers expect that someone will set their minds at ease by saying the exact, perfect thing that will help them accept their loss. Perhaps their clergy or a spiritual advisor will say the magic words that will help them trust in God to heal their wounded heart; and help them move on. But more prevalent still is the belief that some morning on waking up, the griever will be miraculously over whatever it is that ailed them this long.

But grief isn't like that. It doesn't just go away. And, no one ever told Gary and me that we had the power to heal our own pain. Like other grievers, we wanted that magic cure. The painless effort. The simple answer. The quick fix. What we found, instead, was that grief was "work"-and only we had the power to heal our own grief.

What is grief work? Read on here >>>

[kayc]

Well explained!

[MartyT]

A remarkable post on Facebook yesterday by Sheryl Sandburg:

Today is the end of sheloshim for my beloved husband—the first thirty days. Judaism calls for a period of intense mourning known as shiva that lasts seven days after a loved one is buried. After shiva, most normal activities can be resumed, but it is the end of sheloshim that marks the completion of religious mourning for a spouse.

A childhood friend of mine who is now a rabbi recently told me that the most powerful one-line prayer he has ever read is: “Let me not die while I am still alive.” I would have never understood that prayer before losing Dave. Now I do.

I think when tragedy occurs, it presents a choice. You can give in to the void, the emptiness that fills your heart, your lungs, constricts your ability to think or even breathe. Or you can try to find meaning. These past thirty days, I have spent many of my moments lost in that void. And I know that many future moments will be consumed by the vast emptiness as well.

But when I can, I want to choose life and meaning.

And this is why I am writing: to mark the end of sheloshim and to give back some of what others have given to me. While the experience of grief is profoundly personal, the bravery of those who have shared their own experiences has helped pull me through. Some who opened their hearts were my closest friends. Others were total strangers who have shared wisdom and advice publicly. So I am sharing what I have learned in the hope that it helps someone else. In the hope that there can be some meaning from this tragedy.

I have lived thirty years in these thirty days. I am thirty years sadder. I feel like I am thirty years wiser.

I have gained a more profound understanding of what it is to be a mother, both through the depth of the agony I feel when my children scream and cry and from the connection my mother has to my pain. She has tried to fill the empty space in my bed, holding me each night until I cry myself to sleep. She has fought to hold back her own tears to make room for mine. She has explained to me that the anguish I am feeling is both my own and my children’s, and I understood that she was right as I saw the pain in her own eyes.

I have learned that I never really knew what to say to others in need. I think I got this all wrong before; I tried to assure people that it would be okay, thinking that hope was the most comforting thing I could offer. A friend of mine with late-stage cancer told me that the worst thing people could say to him was “It is going to be okay.” That voice in his head would scream, How do you know it is going to be okay? Do you not understand that I might die? I learned this past month what he was trying to teach me. Real empathy is sometimes not insisting that it will be okay but acknowledging that it is not. When people say to me, “You and your children will find happiness again,” my heart tells me, Yes, I believe that, but I know I will never feel pure joy again. Those who have said, “You will find a new normal, but it will never be as good” comfort me more because they know and speak the truth. Even a simple “How are you?”—almost always asked with the best of intentions—is better replaced with “How are you today?” When I am asked “How are you?” I stop myself from shouting, My husband died a month ago, how do you think I am? When I hear “How are you today?” I realize the person knows that the best I can do right now is to get through each day.

I have learned some practical stuff that matters. Although we now know that Dave died immediately, I didn’t know that in the ambulance. The trip to the hospital was unbearably slow. I still hate every car that did not move to the side, every person who cared more about arriving at their destination a few minutes earlier than making room for us to pass. I have noticed this while driving in many countries and cities. Let’s all move out of the way. Someone’s parent or partner or child might depend on it.

I have learned how ephemeral everything can feel—and maybe everything is. That whatever rug you are standing on can be pulled right out from under you with absolutely no warning. In the last thirty days, I have heard from too many women who lost a spouse and then had multiple rugs pulled out from under them. Some lack support networks and struggle alone as they face emotional distress and financial insecurity. It seems so wrong to me that we abandon these women and their families when they are in greatest need.

I have learned to ask for help—and I have learned how much help I need. Until now, I have been the older sister, the COO, the doer and the planner. I did not plan this, and when it happened, I was not capable of doing much of anything. Those closest to me took over. They planned. They arranged. They told me where to sit and reminded me to eat. They are still doing so much to support me and my children.

I have learned that resilience can be learned. Adam M. Grant taught me that three things are critical to resilience and that I can work on all three.

Personalization—realizing it is not my fault. He told me to ban the word “sorry.” To tell myself over and over, This is not my fault. Permanence—remembering that I won’t feel like this forever. This will get better. Pervasiveness—this does not have to affect every area of my life; the ability to compartmentalize is healthy.

For me, starting the transition back to work has been a savior, a chance to feel useful and connected. But I quickly discovered that even those connections had changed. Many of my co-workers had a look of fear in their eyes as I approached. I knew why—they wanted to help but weren’t sure how. Should I mention it? Should I not mention it? If I mention it, what the hell do I say? I realized that to restore that closeness with my colleagues that has always been so important to me, I needed to let them in. And that meant being more open and vulnerable than I ever wanted to be. I told those I work with most closely that they could ask me their honest questions and I would answer. I also said it was okay for them to talk about how they felt. One colleague admitted she’d been driving by my house frequently, not sure if she should come in. Another said he was paralyzed when I was around, worried he might say the wrong thing. Speaking openly replaced the fear of doing and saying the wrong thing. One of my favorite cartoons of all time has an elephant in a room answering the phone, saying, “It’s the elephant.” Once I addressed the elephant, we were able to kick him out of the room.

At the same time, there are moments when I can’t let people in. I went to Portfolio Night at school where kids show their parents around the classroom to look at their work hung on the walls. So many of the parents—all of whom have been so kind—tried to make eye contact or say something they thought would be comforting. I looked down the entire time so no one could catch my eye for fear of breaking down. I hope they understood.

I have learned gratitude. Real gratitude for the things I took for granted before—like life. As heartbroken as I am, I look at my children each day and rejoice that they are alive. I appreciate every smile, every hug. I no longer take each day for granted. When a friend told me that he hates birthdays and so he was not celebrating his, I looked at him and said through tears, “Celebrate your birthday, goddammit. You are lucky to have each one.” My next birthday will be depressing as hell, but I am determined to celebrate it in my heart more than I have ever celebrated a birthday before.

I am truly grateful to the many who have offered their sympathy. A colleague told me that his wife, whom I have never met, decided to show her support by going back to school to get her degree—something she had been putting off for years. Yes! When the circumstances allow, I believe as much as ever in leaning in. And so many men—from those I know well to those I will likely never know—are honoring Dave’s life by spending more time with their families.

I can’t even express the gratitude I feel to my family and friends who have done so much and reassured me that they will continue to be there. In the brutal moments when I am overtaken by the void, when the months and years stretch out in front of me endless and empty, only their faces pull me out of the isolation and fear. My appreciation for them knows no bounds.

I was talking to one of these friends about a father-child activity that Dave is not here to do. We came up with a plan to fill in for Dave. I cried to him, “But I want Dave. I want option A.” He put his arm around me and said, “Option A is not available. So let’s just kick the shit out of option B.”

Dave, to honor your memory and raise your children as they deserve to be raised, I promise to do all I can to kick the shit out of option B. And even though sheloshim has ended, I still mourn for option A. I will always mourn for option A. As Bono sang, “There is no end to grief . . . and there is no end to love.” I love you, Dave.

[KATPILOT]

Thank you Marty. This helps us to understand that to live is to honor.

[MartyT]

♥

[MartyT]

6 Practical Steps for Transforming Loss, by Judith Burdick via Maria Shriver

Often when we lose someone we love, we hear from the so-called experts over and over, self care, as though there were some magic to the notion. But what does it really mean? For some, it might evoke images of spa services, like a massage with hot stones. But the kind of self care we really need focuses on caring for the inner self, the part that grieves and desperately needs expressionand validation. What is most needed is emotional support . . . someone to bear witness to our pain. Read on here >>>

[MartyT]

A terrific article by Bob Baugher describing the difference between feeling guilty and actually being guilty: The Death of My Father: Lingering Guilt ♥

[MartyT]

Death ends a life, but the relationship we have with the one who has died goes on: The Relationship Continues, The Context Has Changed ♥

[Suitearia]

Thank you Marty. I printed one and booked mark several others.

[MartyT]

An outstanding article by bereaved mom Maria Kubitz:

What Is Strength In The Face of Grief?

“YOU’RE SO STRONG.”

If you’ve suffered the devastating loss of a loved one, you’ve probably heard the phrase. I certainly have after the death of my 4-year-old daughter, Margareta, in 2009. But what does it really mean, anyway? What exactly is the definition of strength in the wake of a loved one’s death? Chances are if you ask a griever and a non-griever that question, you’ll get very different perspectives and very different underlying meanings. Read on here >>>

[kayc]

"We don’t know how we’re going to get through each day, but somehow we put one foot in front of the other and keep moving."

"For many of us, not a day goes by that we aren’t acutely aware that our loved one is missing from our lives. And the constant reminder is painful."

Great article, a worthwhile read! Thanks, Marty!

[feralfae]

What a great article!

And learning to say, "I'm here for you." rather than telling someone how strong they are.

Thank you Marty!

[MartyT]

Held By Grief ~ via The Grief Toolbox

Submitted by dream1dancer | June 28, 2015 - 1:54pm

I don't know about you but I feel as though I have been kidnapped and held by grief. It will be 1 year and 6 months soon. To be held this long in the depths of sorrow seems like a hi-jacking gone terribly wrong. I have to remind myself that my feet are not bound, I can walk outside, my face is not covered, I can smile, my mouth is not gagged, I can speak, my eyes are not blind, I can see. To remind yourself of these things that were once as natural and easy as breathing also reminds you that you are a hostage to grief. It holds what you can never get back. Read on here >>>>

[MartyT]

Helpful article by Basia Mosinski via Open to Hope:

Tolerating the Intolerable: Beyond Numbing

When the death of a loved one happens suddenly and unexpectedly, it can crack your heart wide open. The shock and pain of the loss is numbing at first because the reality that you will never see your loved one again is intolerable and overwhelming. Numbing feelings in a sense protects you from experiencing them all at once and from the reality of what has happened.

The numbing begins to wear off after the funeral, after family and friends return to their own lives…then the reality that your expectations, hopes and dreams have inextricably been changed forever begins to surface. Once faced with yourself and the pain in your heart, it’s natural and often an unconscious act to seek ways to continue numbing your feelings of grief and loss.

Some of the ways that you might numb feelings include talking on the phone too much, using the internet and social media more often, telling the details of your story over and over again, watching mindless TV, escaping through entertainment, getting absorbed in reading about other peoples lives, and keeping a busier work schedule.

These activities are not bad but they can be areas where you hide from your feelings. Read on here >>>