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Author: Nancy Loeffler

  • Feeling All of Your Feelings

    I have been thinking a lot about feelings lately. Social media inundates everyone with demands to think positively, to be happy, and to not wallow in negative feelings.

    The double dose of holiday cheer, followed by New Year’s resolutions to think positively, can make you wonder what is wrong with you and you can feel like a failure for not living up to societal expectations.

    Dealing with a loss, whether the loss of a loved one or adjusting to the repercussions of a life-changing event, can put more pressure on you and compound the feelings of failure.

    While I like to feel happy as much as the next person, I know that it impossible for me to feel true happiness and joy without feeling sadness and pain too. When we try to be happy without feeling the full emotional spectrum happiness can feel forced and untrue maybe even making us feel like a fraud. This confliction can further the sense of failure since the world places a high stake on happiness and feeling good.

    Why do we shy away from feelings that are labeled as negative? Feelings are neither “good” nor “bad”.

    All feelings just want to be met.

    Negative emotions that get a bad rap may feel bigger and more overwhelming than the so called good feelings. Let’s face it, when we feel sad or in pain we often do not know what to do, we do not know how to feel these feelings. In a world that values feeling good and shiny happy people, we are not taught how to be with uncomfortable feelings let alone embracing them and allowing them to be felt completely.

    Michael Brown, author of The Presence Process says, “It’s not about feeling better, it’s about getting better at feeling.” I love this quote. He is telling us that the way to authentic happiness is by feeling all our emotions; “good” or “bad”. I learned this for myself through my own grief journey.

    I did not expect this to happen. So, how did I learn it? Simply by allowing myself to feel whatever I was feeling. Intolerable feelings are not limited to those grieving a loss. We all avoid uncomfortable feelings.

    These unbearable feelings often feel too big for us to face; they feel overwhelming. But all feelings want to be met and seen. You will find that when you allow yourself to feel a difficult feeling in your heart its immensity it will shift and begin to calm down. It needed to be bigger than it is so it could get your attention. When you meet your feelings in your heart, you begin to feel safe. The safer you feel, the longer you will be able to engage your feeling.

    The practice of Samyama is one way to begin to bring your feelings to your heart.

    Samyama offers a safe place for all your feelings to be held. In your heart you are able to let your feelings out one at a time so they will not gang up on you and make you feel consumed by grief or devastation. You begin to trust your heart, the process, and your feelings. You relax. Relaxation allows you open the door to your heart even wider and begin to feel amazement, wonder, gratitude, peace, and yes, even happiness.

  • Holidays Can Be Difficult

    Before Dan and I knew it, we found ourselves smack in the middle of another holiday season. This year we spent Thanksgiving at the outer banks with friends. It was our first visit there and like most holidays we are always ready to spend it in a way that does not resemble holidays of the past. We visited the beach, Currituck Lighthouse, Bode Lighthouse and the Kitty Hawk monument. We also laughed and ate with friends, old and new.

    I had one moment of intense longing, longing for a moment that can never exist, one with our family,

    the four of us around that table sharing a Thanksgiving meal. The last time that took place was 16 years ago. In that moment, tears sprang to my eyes and I allowed the sadness to fill my heart, and held it there while I breathed and remembered. The moment passed, and I returned to this year’s gathering.

    Holidays are difficult for many people.

    Sometimes it is because we are missing a loved one and we are remembering Thanksgivings or Christmases of the past. Sometimes it is because our holiday celebrations did not measure up to our expectations, or they somehow fell short of our desires. We may go through the holidays in a haze of depression, closing ourselves off from what may seem like false cheer that permeates every where we go, from the mall to our place of employment.

    How can we create an atmosphere that is comfortable for us?

    Possibly even one in which we want to participate?

    One way to do this is to ask ourselves some questions: How do we want to celebrate?
    What traditions do we want to keep from our past? What are we ready to let go of?

    What new activities or traditions will fill our soul today?

    As you ask yourself these questions, allow yourself to feel into them. Perhaps you can write about them. Let your imagination go, and write from your heart.

    Ask your inner child what she, or he wants, give them an experience they did not have as a child.

    Be kind to yourself, you do not have to participate in any activities that do not feel authentic, makes you uncomfortable, or are too painful.

    Find an activity that makes you feel inspired, nurtured or playful.

    You may still find that your holidays contain difficult moments and memories. When you are caring for yourself in a way that makes you feel inspired and nourished you will have

    a greater capacity to be with your difficult and uncomfortable feelings. You will move through them in a new way. You may even gain insights into your past that will help you to create an even better experience for yourself in the present.

    As we begin to forge new traditions and create new memories that are in alignment with our authentic selves we begin to relax and enjoy the moments of our days that create our life. We begin to live the lives we are meant to live.

  • Big Milestones

    The 15th anniversary of Leah’s accident and death was last week. This year’s experience was nothing like any of the preceding years and brought a few surprises. The previous weekend we visited our son in Minneapolis. We had a nourishing visit as always. We laughed and talked about silly and important things. We received lots of really good hugs. On my way home I thought to myself that this was a good way to start the week, it will ease some of the pain.

    I was completely surprised that on the exact date and time I learned of Leah’s accident that I began to cry. It was one of those cries that felt bottomless; that if I gave in to it I would drop so far down into the well of grief that I would not come out. I did not want to go to that well. I am tired of the flood of feelings. I asked myself, haven’t I endured these emotions long enough? And the truth is, no.

    Resisting feeling makes the suffering greater.

    Resisting dams up the grief and it begins to feel overwhelming, like I am going to burst. Resisting going there prolongs the pain.

    So I let myself feel the pain.

    I let the tears come exactly as they showed up.
    I let myself, once again, feel the helplessness of not being able to help my daughter live. I let myself feel the sadness of missing her.

    Each day for five days I let my grief come in waves. My energy was low all week, I felt sad, sadder than I have for a while. All week long I relived memories of her, really good memories. Memories that made me smile and laugh. For the first time in a long time I hear her songs on the radio. And I cried. Tears sprang up at surprising intervals, out of nowhere, or so it seemed. Through it all I could not wrap my head around 15 years.

    15 years without seeing her light.

    15 years without touching her.

    15 years without an eye roll.

    15 long years.

    On the sixth day, the actual anniversary of her death, I emerged with new insights. I felt strong. I felt like myself again. My sadness was lifting. This round of the grief spiral provided me with insights into my clients and perspective clients hesitancy to enter their own grief journey. The fear that is felt when we enter the unknown. The knowledge that if we enter that path, it will be painful, and it may bring up issues we have not thought about in a long time.

    Grief can be like a protective shield around our hearts.

    If we do not acknowledge it then we do not have to feel. If we do not feel then maybe the grief will all go away. I can tell you grief does not go away, it gets bigger, stronger, and more overwhelming and the effort of trying to keep it at bay becomes exhausting.

    Yes, I am tired of reliving the accident and remembering that she died five days later. It is nothing compared to the exhaustion and potential health issues that can arise from pushing down or repressing feelings. It takes great courage and heart to feel grief day after day, month after month, year after year. Each time you do, each time I do, the blessings and graces far exceed the pain of resistance.

    I am still assimilating this year’s gifts, but here is what I know so far:

    I am ready to unconditionally love myself, including all the parts that are difficult to love.

    I am ready to take a stand for myself with myself, and live fully aligned with my Truth.

    I will not sacrifice my self-care, my pleasure, or my desires to fit anyone else’s expectations.

    I am willing to be vulnerable.

    It feels vulnerable to state these things here, and you may ask how it this relates to Leah’s death.

    Her death provided me with a huge initiation, the opportunity to completely deconstruct my life, to excavate my authentic self, the me that I am, the fullest expression of my Nanciness. And that is why I do this work.

    I hold the space for you to go deep, feel your feelings, do your work and discover your authentic self, your Truth.

    Grief is not pretty, fun, or cut and dried. It is messy, painful, hard and real. When you have the courage to enter it, to engage your feelings, to bring them into the light of day, you can get through it, layer by layer, but you will get through, and along the way you may just discover a you that is longing to come out and play.

  • Are You Waiting For the Perfect Time?

    Do you find yourself waiting until the perfect time to start something that needs to be done? Things like: working on a presentation, writing for your book, planning a special project, or unleashing your creativity?

    What happens when you wait for the perfect time or the perfect circumstances to start something new or continue an ongoing project?

    Usually the perfect time never comes and the project does not get done.You start having bad feelings about yourself because you are not meeting your expectations.
    What if you do not wait for the perfect moment to start?

    What if, instead, you start from where you are, in the very moment the thought to begin occurs to you?

    What if you wrote from the pain you are feeling or allowed your difficult emotions to show up through your work?

    When you feel inspired, your work flows easily and your words reflect your inner landscape, and, because you feel inspired, you like the outcome of your effort.
    Why not do this when you are feeling vulnerable or fragile? Your words will be just as authentic as they are when you write from inspiration because they will reflect where you are in that moment.

    Your work will show another facet of your authenticity.

    Depending where you are at any given moment your words will ring true for those who need to hear that particular message. Perfection is a myth. Striving for perfection is very close to self abuse. Therefore, you will never achieve your perception of perfection.

    Next time you are waiting for inspiration to hit before you begin that project, letter, or painting, instead start from where you are. That is how I wrote this blog. I started writing from a place that felt vulnerable, trusting that each moment holds value. Inspiration looks different depending on where you are so honor it no matter what it looks like.

    This is one of the lessons I learned from my grief journey.

    Start where you are.

    It does not have to look a certain way, it’s your journey and it serves your life. Ask inside what you need then trust the answer. I can help you navigate this tenuous time so that you can regain a new purpose for living.

  • Love Yourself Anyway

    The last few weeks have been full. Lot of ideas have been coming in and lots of old stuff has been coming up to be released. As the seasons shift between summer and fall, I have felt shifts in my life too. These shifts have been in both my personal life and business life. I have been writing lots, yet none of it was inspired to be a blog or a newsletter. I have been more and more comfortable going with my own flow, listening to my own guidance, changing the way I do things, getting clearer on how to share my work with the world and how I need to take care of myself to move my best self forward. And, in the process, I am getting to know better the parts of myself that are not so perfect, and loving them anyway. The parts of ourselves that do things we do not want them to do, or the parts of ourselves that do not do what we think they should, those are the parts that need love right now, just the way they are. They need that love more than ever.

    We often say, “I will love myself when _________.” (Fill in your own answer.)

    The problem with this statement is that the parts of us that need love now are neglected.

    What if we loved ourselves now in all of our messy, imperfect glory?

    What if you did not wait until you lost the weight, or established the exercise routine, or got over a failed relationship, or created a schedule that made your life work better? What if loving those parts of ourselves led us to the very behaviors or understanding that our broken-open hearts need? Can we love ourselves enough to start moving in a way that stirs our soul? Or seek out help with a loss? Or find a coach or practitioner who can help us find a way to tune into our own guidance and learn how to listen to our own intuition?

    When we love ourselves the way we are now, we open the door to change.

    Our less-loved parts receive attention and do not have to be as vocal. They calm down; they feel well loved. When this happens we begin to feel more like ourselves. We have access to more of our true nature. We begin to know what it feels like to listen to our own wisdom, whether that is body wisdom, or wisdom about a choice we have to make. So, how can we begin to love ourselves more?

    Here are a few suggestions.

    Gratitude.

    Gratitude is a game changer; it opens the door for miracles to enter our lives.
    Take some time each morning to write down three things you are grateful for. Then, in the evening, write down three things that you are grateful for that happened that day. If you do not know where to begin, then be grateful that you breathe day in and day out without needing to think about it. Allow yourself to feel gratitude as well. You can expand on your list each day; you can add more than three things. When you are feeling down, read your list. You will be reminded of the multitude of blessings in your life. Try this for a week and see what happens.

    When you find yourself criticizing yourself, love the one who criticizes.*

    Bless the one who criticizes. All parts of us want to be met as they are. The shadow sides of ourselves can be great teachers. We sometimes fear our dark side because we are afraid we will not be able to contain the darkness. In my experience the opposite is true. When we meet the dark parts of ourselves, the parts we criticize or want to get rid of, they are not as big or scary as we imagined them to be. They just want to be loved too.  *this is from the work of Matt Kahn, click here for more information.

    Cultivate a practice of sitting quietly each day.

    You can use whatever practice calls to you. Samyama is one practice that can assist you to listen deeply to the parts of yourself that want to be heard. Learn more about Samyama here.

    Establishing these self-care practices can help you move with the flow of your own life. You will notice when you are called to slow down and will see shifts in your life. If you find yourself too rigid or controlling, these practices can help you live a more easeful life. Oh, and remember to breathe, deeply.

  • Living in the Unknown

    What does living in the unknown mean anyway?

    News flash, we always live in the unknown, we just think we are in control. I learned this lesson fast when my daughter died. Back then I was a certifiable control freak. I thought everything was in my control and if I worked hard enough, or did the right things the outcome would be according to my plan. Boy that did not work, can you relate?

    At the time I worked as a project manager for a large contracting company. Trying to control all aspects of the jobs I managed was like trying to herd cats, or like being the parent of a teenager. As a matter of fact, at the time, I used to compare working on my job site to having a teenager. I never knew what I would find when I got to work, or when I got home. It was the beginning of my lessons about letting go of that which I cannot control.

    That lesson deepened when Leah died.

    I learned in the blink of an eye that I was never in control.

    I just thought I was and, by thinking so, I was living under an illusion that I had the power to influence everything in my sphere of consciousness.

    The thought of living in the unknown is scary. Questions arise like: If I do not know anything, how will things get done? Will I just sit on my couch and mindlessly watch TV and eat ice cream? Will I lose touch with everything and everyone?

    Here’s what I learned.
    Living in the unknown is a matter of faith and trust, and it is a mindful practice.
    When Leah died I was at a low point, I really did not know anything. I did not know why she died, why she was in the hospital for five days, why I could not stop her accident from happening. I no longer knew my place in the world, or what I was going to do without her in my life. I did not know how I was going to make it to the next hour let alone live the rest of my life without her physical presence. I decided that since I was already so entrenched in the unknown, why not surrender to it completely because I had nothing more to lose.

    As I walked my grief journey, I got really good at living in the unknown. I learned that the more I was willing to not know; the more I was able to just be, to allow grace and blessings to come into my life.

    When I stopped trying to choreograph my every movement, I was making space for Divine arrangement to enter my life.

    You may have heard of the expression, “Let go and let God”. That is what happened. My diligent practice of my willingness to not know anything continually brought me answers to my prayers that I could never have accomplished by my own sheer will.

    I went from a being control freak; wanting to control every single outcome of every single experience I had to trusting that when I have faith, the magic happens. This happened in every aspect of my life, including my job. When I learned to relax my hold on my perception of reality, or what I thought that reality should be, things worked out in ways that I never could have imagined.

    I remember one particularly contentious meeting I was facilitating. Several people around the table were ready for a good fight. I went into the meeting with the intention of being completely present to each person who spoke, and not knowing how to fix whatever was going to be spoken in the meeting. I knew exactly what each person’s issues were, and yet I still was willing to not know how to resolve them. The result of that meeting was amazing. There were no fights, no raised voices, no one storming from the room to make a point. I truly do not know what happened, except that my willingness to not know allowed all of the other possibilities to come forward. At the end of the meeting I had several people come up to me and comment about how easily a compromise was reached, and ask me what I did.

    Consciously living in the unknown can seem counter intuitive.

    I am here to tell you that when I notice that I am feeling stressed and overwhelmed, one of the first questions I ask myself is if I am surrendering to the unknown, or trying to affect the outcome of a situation, the answer is always yes.

    Here are three ways you can begin to surrender yourself to the unknown.

    Be willing to not know.

    The next time you are struggling with a problem, be willing to not know the answer. Sit quietly, breath, bring the question to your heart, and be willing to not know the answer.

    Do not be attached to the outcome.

    You may have tussled with the same problem many times before, and you find your thoughts analyzing the pros and cons back and forth, making you crazy with trying to do the right thing. Let all of that go, let the question rest in your heart, and trust an answer will come.

    Be present.

    When you are in the present moment everything you need is in the field. When you allow yourself to be present and not know at the same time, the answer you need will rise to the top for you to see it. When we spend time trying to figure everything out from past experience we miss what is right in front of us in the present moment.

    As you can see, living in the unknown serves us in all aspects of our life. There are many nuances of it that are unable to be described. I invite you to try it for yourself to directly experience what is possible when you do not know anything.

  • Leah’s Greatest Gift to Me

    Life is full of lessons.

    From the time we first make our way into this world we are learning. Our first years are spent familiarizing ourselves with our environment and the people who care for us. We are eager learners taking in all that we see, touch, hear, and taste. The exuberance of a baby is life affirming.

    As we grow and begin school our ways of learning change. Some things interest us more than others and we gravitate toward them. Sometimes we become almost obsessed with a topic and we cannot get enough. We read about it, and take every opportunity to engage in activities that brings us into direct contact with our obsession. That obsession can then become a passion.  That passion may change from time to time, and thus brings more experiences into our realm of knowing.  If we are lucky, this trend continues throughout our life.

    But what happens when we find ourselves feeling like we no longer have any inspiration, like we have lost our passion and do not know how to get it back again? Sometimes we go through our lives with blinders on.  We think we have enough time to learn what we want to learn, or do what we want to do…..later.  But when is later?

    My grief journey presented me with a sense of urgency to live life to the fullest.

    Are the lessons I learned ones that I would have learned anyway, without the plunge into the deep well of grief? Maybe, some of them.  Yes, I was on a path of enlightenment. I was doing inner work, sometimes. However, after Leah died I knew in every cell of my body that losing her was much too high a price to pay to not be exactly who I am.

    Early on in my journey I was not sure I would make it. After the early grief stage passed and I came to a place that held a little more peace and was less overwhelming, the urgency to live life to the fullest was there to encourage me.

    Spurred on by the knowing that losing my daughter was too high a price to pay to not be who I am led me into some of the deepest work of my life. It was painful; deconstructing a life is always painful, however it was not as painful as not having Leah physically in my life.

    I  now see this as one of the greatest gifts Leah gave to me, the quest for my True Heart.

    The quest to find my authentic self, to live in alignment with that Truth, and most importantly to listen deeply to my own guidance.  I came to truly know my Self for the first time. I learned what my guidance, my intuition, really felt like in my body and learned to listen to it with devotion. Through the process of this initiation I learned what brings me pleasure, what nourishes me, how important it is for me to dance and color with my crayons. I learned what does not nourish me and no longer serves me.  I have come to call this essence of me that only I can know and understand my Nanci-ness.  Only I could be the me that I am, only you can be the you that you are.

    Wherever you find yourself in your own grief journey, the possibility exists for you to come into the fullness of who you are. Whether you are mourning the loss of a loved one, a job, a relationship, or lost opportunity, you are at a threshold to self-discovery. I invite you to cross that threshold, to enter the unknown.

    We are always in the unknown.

  • Associative Memories and a New School Year

    This time of year is nostalgic for me. Ever since I had children in school, the end of summer and the start of school year have always been bittersweet. The start of a new school year brought to mind how much growth had occurred for my kids. The anticipation of a new school year, new clothes, new school supplies, and a crispness in the air marked the passage of time in a way that a new calendar year never did. After Leah died this time of year became especially poignant. For a long time the associative memories that accompany this time of year were too much to bear.

    This new year meant I was headed into another milestone day, another anniversary of Leah’s death, another reminder that she would be forever 17-1/2. I wanted to bury my head in the sand at the first cool breeze that came over the mountain and not emerge until after Christmas. Fall, Thanksgiving and Christmas were all conspiring to remind me of my pain. This season is rife with associative memories as it is, without the additional layer of missing my daughter. It felt like the anniversary of her death.

    Each year I experienced grief differently.

    Looking back on this time from where I am now, I can say that each year was providing me with the opportunity to be with my grief in a slightly different way.

    I resolutely resisted entering this time until about year ten. Even though I lived with my loss 24/7, the time from October through December was fraught with memories that seemed fresh. Time had a way of playing tricks; I often relived all of the memories of her accident, the time in the hospital, memories of holidays past and her personal favorite holiday traditions.

    We began changing our yearly routine.

    While we still missed her, we did not have the familiar touchstones that connected us directly to the most painful memories. So, when you find yourself in a particularly difficult spiral of your own grief journey, here are a few ways to help you through that time.

    When a difficult milestone is approaching, take some time and make space to feel your feelings.

    You can light a candle, make a cup of tea, sit quietly and invite your feelings into your heart. Are your feelings especially raw right now? Ask yourself what you need during this particular day or time. If your feelings are intense it may feel right to change your perspective; go or do somewhere that you did not share with your loved one. You will still miss them, but a new environment can ease the intense feelings. If, instead, doing the same thing you always did with them comforts you, then do that. There is no one right answer, plus it may change from year to year. Honor yourself where you are each year a milestone comes around.

    Ask for support.

    It is not always easy to ask for help in the best of circumstances. When we are grieving it can be harder. If you would like someone to accompany you to visit your loved one’s grave for example, you can do that. If you want their silent support, tell them that. A friend is always grateful to know how they can help. If they have not experienced a significant loss themselves, they may not be sure of the best way to help. Making your needs known helps you and them.

    Realize that your experience will change with time.

    Some years you will feel like your loss happened yesterday. Other years you will receive insights that provide you with a new level of understanding. This will not happen in any particular order. Grief is a changeable journey. Your willingness to be with it as it arises will help you relax and remind you that you are not regressing. Remember, all healing happens in a relaxation response.

    This is a time to be diligent with your self-care rituals. Read more about Radical Self-Care here. Include extra self-care to help with relaxation. To this day, when I feel stressed my grief is closer to the surface. Become familiar with your own grief triggers and learn what works for you to help ease them.

  • Grief as Journey

    I often talk about grief being a journey. One of my clients asked me the other day exactly what that means. So I explained that we can go through our lives traversing or sidestepping disappointments, setbacks, and perceived failures; wondering what we have to do to have our lives turn out the way we want or hope them to become. Often it is not until we have a larger loss, like the loss of a loved one, that we are thrown into a grief so deep that it completely dismantles our life as we knew it.

    Each person’s grief journey is unique.

    Knowing and accepting it can be a turning point in the journey. Early on in my own journey, knowing my daughter’s physical presence would be forever missing from my life, grief hung over me like a heavy burden. I vividly remember, a few years after she died, that it was the summer of the cicadas in Maryland. The sound was always there, sometimes louder, sometimes softer, but relentless in its continual roar. That is how my grief felt to me in those days, continual and relentless. It was always present in the background of everything I did.

    It was during this time that I was taking time each day to be with and feel my feelings as they were showing up for me. Knowing I was making space each day for my feelings to be as messy, painful, and raw as they were eventually allowed me to have more and more time during the course of my day to concentrate on the work of putting my life back together. Was it easy? Absolutely not. And I have shared more than once that losing my daughter was way too high a price to not be who I am. This was the guiding principle in the early days of my grief.

    We are faced with the choice of attempting to find meaning again or staying in our pain.

    Maybe we do not even recognize that we have a choice. Maybe we are aimlessly going through our life trying to find our way not know which direction to turn. Our grief journey does not begin the moment a loved one dies and does not complete at some arbitrary time in the future after we have gone through all of the stages of grief in an orderly fashion.

    Grief is not orderly; it does not follow one particular path. It is messy. It is not linear. It looms big one minute and the next we have a glimmer of an understanding.

    Our daily disappointments take on a new dimension in the face of a traumatic loss of a loved one. Our priorities can change and often do. Things that we used to do now do not make sense. Life-changing major losses, whether it is the loss of a loved one, a relationship, or health related have the potential to turn our lives upside down and inside out. How we put them back together again is all part of our journey.

    At some point I was able to move into a place of purpose, of knowing that my grief journey was leading me into my most authentic self. When did that happen? It took a long time, and for me it was gradual. Everyone is on his or her own time; there is no

    right answer to that question. What I can tell you is that each time I surrendered to my feelings, as they appeared in my heart, I received blessings and grace.
    It brings to mind Rumi’s poem,

    Zero Circle:

    Be helpless and dumbfounded, unable to say yes or no.

    Then a stretcher will come
    from grace to gather us up.
    We are too dull-eyed to see the beauty. If we say “Yes we can,” we’ll be lying.

    If we say “No, we don’t see it,”
    that “No” will behead us
    and shut tight our window into spirit.

    So let us not be sure of anything,
    beside ourselves, and only that, so miraculous beings come running to help.

    Crazed, lying in a zero-circle, mute,
    we will be saying finally,
    with tremendous eloquence, “Lead us.”

    When we’ve totally surrendered to that beauty, we’ll become a mighty kindness.

    version by Coleman Barks

    Saying yes to your grief journey can be one of the biggest gifts of your life. It will open you up to the messiness and joy of life.

    It will lead you to your authentic self.

  • Men and Grief

    Today’s subject is men’s grief process and how men relate to loss. This will be one of the offerings we are creating in the Being with Grief program.

    Men approach grief from their own unique perspective.

    We grieve in our own way, depending on how we were brought up, what we have experienced and how we were influenced.

    Grief is a normal and natural internal reaction to a loss of any kind. Grief is made up of the conflicting feelings caused by the end of or change in a familiar pattern of behavior. The distress and internal conflict can paralyze even the most logical of us.

    This is so different from the types of simple communication and exchange that men do in a normal day. When something needs to be done, an order is given and the response is the action that gets the job done. When grief is present, distress can cause a disconnect from everything thus making even easy tasks seem overwhelming.

    What I know is that men do not let their armor down and show the wound.

    The effort that goes into any battle prevents it. Once the wound is there, it is usually ignored and left without any attention being paid to it. Healing does not seem possible, so it is better to just “get over it” burying the pain so that life can go on. Men tend to stand in their courage and attempt to vanquish this distress. Since society holds men to shoulder the burden, many men spend time alone in their attempt to heal.

    Men also do not know how to treat a wounded brother. If I were to acknowledge my pain in a group of male friends there would not be a combined effort to encourage and sustain me. There would more likely be silence or worse; some kind of remark negating my feelings. The result is that most men hold pain inside. Showing sympathy can be seen as a sign of weakness so support is less likely to come from another guy.

    So how do we change this and make the men’s grief and loss experience more accepting?

    One way is creating a safe environment of non-judgement allowing the inner shell to break open and expose the hurt. Any deep work needs this type of container. Knowing that your words are secure and that your feelings will not be compromised is crucial for the healing process to take place.

    Another way is working with men’s groups that teach the importance of clearly naming feelings. This is much like being in the moment and allowing the feelings to be named and experienced as they appear. For example, naming a perceived slight or injustice that needs to be cleared thus improving and mending a relationship. This confronting of another in a circle of trust allows the wounded one to name the hurt before the offender and be acknowledged.

    Doing grief work, confronting pain, naming it and having that feeling acknowledged releases the stress and allows healing.

    To have your pain seen by another, to have it acknowledged, and witnessed is a meaningful step in reclaiming wholeness.

    There is no shame or stigma in seeking assistance in the recovery from the loss that occurs upon the death of a beloved. As a man I am not weaker because I sought the wisdom of someone with the knowledge I need to cope and recover. Understanding what grief is and what it does is part of the solution. So, obtaining tools to navigate the experience and use them is an opportunity to discover something about yourself.              Dan Loeffler