My Site

Category: Grief

  • Adoption Grief

    [fusion_builder_container type=”flex” hundred_percent=”no” equal_height_columns=”no” menu_anchor=”” hide_on_mobile=”small-visibility,medium-visibility,large-visibility” class=”” id=”” background_color=”” background_image=”” background_position=”center center” background_repeat=”no-repeat” fade=”no” background_parallax=”none” parallax_speed=”0.3″ video_mp4=”” video_webm=”” video_ogv=”” video_url=”” video_aspect_ratio=”16:9″ video_loop=”yes” video_mute=”yes” overlay_color=”” video_preview_image=”” border_color=”” border_style=”solid” padding_top=”” padding_bottom=”” padding_left=”” padding_right=””][fusion_builder_row][fusion_builder_column type=”1_1″ layout=”1_1″ background_position=”left top” background_color=”” border_color=”” border_style=”solid” border_position=”all” spacing=”yes” background_image=”” background_repeat=”no-repeat” padding_top=”” padding_right=”” padding_bottom=”” padding_left=”” margin_top=”0px” margin_bottom=”0px” class=”” id=”” animation_type=”” animation_speed=”0.3″ animation_direction=”left” hide_on_mobile=”small-visibility,medium-visibility,large-visibility” center_content=”no” last=”true” min_height=”” hover_type=”none” link=”” border_sizes_top=”” border_sizes_bottom=”” border_sizes_left=”” border_sizes_right=”” first=”true”][fusion_text]

    Here is a little known fact about me. I was adopted as an infant. My adoptive parents raised three of us in a wonderful loving home. I wish that I had been able to share with my parents, Dolores and Vincent, the profound sense of gratitude that I feel for the life that they provided me. Their sacrifices for us and the love that they gave to us, impacts me more as I grow older and observe my own family. All this came into focus for me when I decided to take the Ancestry DNA Genetic test.

    What would have that life have been like?

    The genetic test result revealed a very involved story. It turns out that my immediate maternal family includes two biological brothers and a brother-cousin and 2 more brothers on my paternal side. If you are wondering what a brother-cousin is; we share the same father between two sisters. It is a complicated tale that may turn into a screenplay or short story. At this later stage of our lives, we have now met, shared our stories and stay in contact as our individual families grow.

    For me, this advance in genetics raises a profound grief, one that is hard for me to reconcile. This is the grief of having met my biological brothers and grieving for the “what might have been” life.

    What if I had grown up with them?

    It is complicated by the fact that if I had been raised with my biological brothers, then my story would have been very different. It may have also altered the biological family structure.  In my maternal and adopted family, I was the oldest child.  In my adopted family, this meant that there were expectations of what I would do with my life. In my biological family, I will never know just what or how those expectations would have shaped my life. Thinking about many “what if” moments is hard for me. The life that I have led would not have existed. I can’t imagine a different life, different friends, different schools. I cannot comprehend not having met my wife Nancy or having our children and now grandchildren. I can’t stay in that space for long before I get a headache.

    In the age of genetic testing and the possibility of tracing your biological family roots, I have been lucky to find my biological brothers. I had not anticipated the unexpected sense of grief when I decided to take the test. It is a mixed bag of emotions that stems from those two separate branches of my story that will never be resolved. There will always be questions and a sense of wonder.

    The 1950’s were a much different time than today. My birth mother made an extremely hard decision. Although it has taken the better part of 60 years to uncover the story, getting to know my brothers, their lives, and their families, who have been so open and supportive of me has been a wonderful journey. I appreciate my good fortune to have been adopted by my parents and the life they provided. This life of mine has been blessed in many ways.

    [/fusion_text][/fusion_builder_column][/fusion_builder_row][/fusion_builder_container]

  • Full Spectrum of Feelings

    Full Spectrum of Feelings

    [fusion_builder_container type=”flex” hundred_percent=”no” equal_height_columns=”no” menu_anchor=”” hide_on_mobile=”small-visibility,medium-visibility,large-visibility” class=”” id=”” background_color=”” background_image=”” background_position=”center center” background_repeat=”no-repeat” fade=”no” background_parallax=”none” parallax_speed=”0.3″ video_mp4=”” video_webm=”” video_ogv=”” video_url=”” video_aspect_ratio=”16:9″ video_loop=”yes” video_mute=”yes” overlay_color=”” video_preview_image=”” border_color=”” border_style=”solid” padding_top=”” padding_bottom=”” padding_left=”” padding_right=””][fusion_builder_row][fusion_builder_column type=”1_1″ layout=”1_1″ background_position=”left top” background_color=”” border_color=”” border_style=”solid” border_position=”all” spacing=”yes” background_image=”” background_repeat=”no-repeat” padding_top=”” padding_right=”” padding_bottom=”” padding_left=”” margin_top=”0px” margin_bottom=”0px” class=”” id=”” animation_type=”” animation_speed=”0.3″ animation_direction=”left” hide_on_mobile=”small-visibility,medium-visibility,large-visibility” center_content=”no” last=”true” min_height=”” hover_type=”none” link=”” border_sizes_top=”” border_sizes_bottom=”” border_sizes_left=”” border_sizes_right=”” first=”true”][fusion_text]

    I’m often asked how I can be joyful and live the life I am living when I’m doing it without my daughter’s presence in my life.

    I’m asked if I have gotten over her death, or if I’ve healed and accepted her death.

    I will never get over Leah’s death. I’ve had a 20-year inquiry into what healing form her death looks like, and I have a problem wrapping my head around what accepting her death means.

    I’ve accepted that she is not here, and that in order to live the life I was meant to live that I had/have to find a way to honor her, and to be the best me that I can be. That has not been an easy road, and it has meant that I needed to learn how to feel my excruciating feelings of grief.

    In the early days of my grief journey I used diversion and distraction to keep from feeling my feelings of grief. I thought that if I ate enough chocolate chip cookies, I wouldn’t have to feel the pain of losing my daughter. I thought that those feelings would eventually go away if I pushed them away long enough.

    What I found out is that they got louder to get my attention.

    The intensity of my feelings made them overwhelming.

    I learned that feeling them was the way through, and when I allowed them to be met they quieted down. There are many ways to feel our feelings. My own practice of present moment awareness, Samyama, is what helped me learn to get better at feeling my raw feelings. I could bring one feeling at a time, to my heart, and my heart shifted the feeling. Our hearts are alchemical vessels that can hold whatever we bring to them. As I began to have a greater capacity to feel my painful feelings, I found out that I could also feel joy and happiness to a greater degree. I learned that I can feel joy and pain at the same time.

    I like to thing of feelings as clouds.

    There are different kinds of clouds, and they always move through. Even dark storm clouds move through. Our feelings are the same. They are not good or bad, they are energy that need to be met and felt, and then they move through too.

    When they come back, it doesn’t mean we are regressing. When we are present to our feelings, we realize that the feeling may seem similar to feelings we have had before, yet in this moment it is slightly different. Just like no two clouds are alike.

    My grief journey taught me that when we feel the full spectrum of our feelings, we can live a fuller life. When I fully participate in all aspects of my life, does that mean I have healed from the death of my daughter? That is a question that I continue to sit with. Healing doesn’t look like what I thought it would when I considered it early on. That may be a topic for further discussion.  What I know now is that when I can bring all of my feelings into my heart, my heart can hold them, and my head doesn’t have to try to figure out what to do with them.

    That right there is a step in the right direction for me.

    [/fusion_text][/fusion_builder_column][/fusion_builder_row][/fusion_builder_container]

  • Nuances of Perfectionism

    Nuances of Perfectionism

    [fusion_builder_container type=”flex” hundred_percent=”no” equal_height_columns=”no” menu_anchor=”” hide_on_mobile=”small-visibility,medium-visibility,large-visibility” class=”” id=”” background_color=”” background_image=”” background_position=”center center” background_repeat=”no-repeat” fade=”no” background_parallax=”none” parallax_speed=”0.3″ video_mp4=”” video_webm=”” video_ogv=”” video_url=”” video_aspect_ratio=”16:9″ video_loop=”yes” video_mute=”yes” overlay_color=”” video_preview_image=”” border_color=”” border_style=”solid” padding_top=”” padding_bottom=”” padding_left=”” padding_right=””][fusion_builder_row][fusion_builder_column type=”1_1″ layout=”1_1″ background_position=”left top” background_color=”” border_color=”” border_style=”solid” border_position=”all” spacing=”yes” background_image=”” background_repeat=”no-repeat” padding_top=”” padding_right=”” padding_bottom=”” padding_left=”” margin_top=”0px” margin_bottom=”0px” class=”” id=”” animation_type=”” animation_speed=”0.3″ animation_direction=”left” hide_on_mobile=”small-visibility,medium-visibility,large-visibility” center_content=”no” last=”true” min_height=”” hover_type=”none” link=”” border_sizes_top=”” border_sizes_bottom=”” border_sizes_left=”” border_sizes_right=”” first=”true”][fusion_text]

    When I was preparing to move from Raleigh to St. Paul in the fall of 2020, there was a lot of purging of things we no longer needed. Some of these were easy to pack in boxes and take to places that were accepting donations.

    Then I came across my journals.

    In the course of my life I’ve been a somewhat sporadic writer. Early in my journey, I would decide that writing in a journal would help to uncover what I needed to know to work on in myself, and then I could get to the work of “fixing” it. This was all before I found presence as a practice, and before I knew that there was nothing to fix.

    Whenever I made a new promise to write in a journal, I bought a new one.

    I couldn’t just pick up where I left off in an old one because that represented failure to me, I had stopped writing daily in that journal (or weekly, or….) and I needed to find the perfect journal to capture the deepest thoughts that would lead to the transformation that I was envisioning for myself. Inevitably, I would not be consistent with my latest attempt to fix myself, and yet another journal would go into the pile of half started journals.

    This was only one place where perfection showed up in my life. I used to think that if I could just “get it right” i.e. find the perfect combination of goals, rules, insights, etc. that I would attain what I was looking for, and I always failed. These attempts of finding the perfect combination of things out there to make me happy; always sent me into a tail spin of self abuse.

    If I couldn’t achieve the perfect body, the perfect hair, the perfect disposition; be the perfect mother or wife, how could I be successful?

    How could I teach my children?

    How could I find fulfillment?

    This cycle repeated itself numerous times before I began to unravel perfectionism in my life.

    After Leah died, the fabric of my life was ripped apart. My life was cracked open. It was only when I looked at my life from that place that I knew perfectionism was not attainable. At first I thought it was because my daughter died, how could I have a perfect life without her physical presence?

    Didn’t that right there mean that I had failed as a mother?

    My grief journey took me to the depths of despair. As I climbed out through presence, and my Samyama practice, I began to see that perfectionism is a myth. That there is no perfect place to go; no perfect way to be.  I learned that I perfectly imperfect just as I am.

    I began to look for answers inside my heart rather than outside myself. My heart would often lead me to a teaching, or teacher, yet the inspiration always came from within.  That was not an easy lesson for me to learn. The more present I became, the more I could discern my inner voice. I learned what my intuition felt like in my body. I learned to trust my full body yes.

    Do I still try to find the best way to do things?  The perfect way? Yes, sometimes I do, and now know that this work is a practice, not a perfect, and I can give myself grace when I find myself heading down that particular rabbit hole.

    Living my life in this way has brought more joy into my life, more inspiration, and yes, more happiness and contentment. I’ve loosened my grip on things that I thought were needed to achieve a particular way of living.  Now I allow rather than strive so hard to attain something.

    Back to that pile of unfinished journals.

    When I found them I read a little from a few of them and realized I am light years away from where I was when I was striving for perfection. I toyed with the idea of picking them up and continuing to write from where I am today.  That didn’t feel right to me.

    Before I moved I held a ritual to burn those journals, as well as other things that helped me along the way in my journey, yet no longer were aligned with where I am today. Burning my journals released more of the hold that perfectionism had on me. I thanked them for serving their purpose when they did.

    I released what I no longer needed to make space for what was coming next.

    [/fusion_text][/fusion_builder_column][/fusion_builder_row][/fusion_builder_container]

  • Funeral Memories

    As a young man, I was raised in a Catholic household. I attended Mass and was even an altar boy during my grade school days. Aside from my great grandmother’s wake, the funerals that I served as an altar boy was my primary exposure to how people grieved. Somewhere around the 5th grade, maybe 10 years old, I became an acolyte or altar boy. We learned the Mass in Latin and then had to learn it again in English once the Vatican changed the rules allowing the local language to be used in place of Latin.

    There was a certain sincere formalness to serving a Mass in latin. All the prayers and hymns were beautiful in their archaic splendor. It captured a certain feeling that the soul was eternal and the Church was there to help the transition from the physical to the spiritual. The formalness offered relief from sadness in such a send off that must have been comforting. Yet, the comforting words that were spoken only touched the surface of what the grieving family members were going through.

    Sermons meant to bring a loved ones life into focus.

    After the funeral, the procession to the cemetery took place. There the final grave site prayers and goodbyes were said. This was the saddest part of the day when tears flowed and grief became a physical weight upon the family. It was the “after” service part of the day that offered a different and supportive element to the day filled with memories and goodbyes.

    What followed was a luncheon/reception or family gathering to share a meal. This tradition started because people would travel distances to the memorial and prior to departing a small meal would be offered to send them off. What really happened was a feeding of the soul and the beginning to the process of healing.

    It became an occasion for the church to open the doors and extend a welcome. Volunteers from the parish would prepare the meal. A much more informal sharing of grief would follow. Stories and cherished memories of the loved ones adventures and misadventures would be told. There would be laughter and a few tears but what impressed me was the sense that this gathering was a celebration of the life well lived.

    Many Faiths have similar rituals that offer support to families at those moments of sorrow and grief. Just like they offer support to the joyous occasions. Our shared experiences are what begin to draw us together.  There is a balm in these moments for the sore emotions and the tired physical treadmill that are part of saying goodbye. Recognizing that with tragic moments, there will also be gentler moments. That replenishment is available and will follow when you fill empty. When we share our tragedy we don’t have to carry as much of it. It reminds us that we are not alone and that people are willing to be there to help lift you.

  • Is Self-Care Necessary?

    Is Self-Care Necessary?

    Self-care is a hot topic these days.

    Taking care of ourselves is important. One of the things I’ve discovered is that self-care is necessary for us to step fully into who we are meant to be in this world. This was an important lesson for me as I excavated the life I was meant to live over the course of my grief journey.

    I’ve had many conversations about self-care, and so many of us, myself included, think, (or used to think) that caring for ourselves is selfish, and we must take care of others to show selflessness. Yet, if we don’t take care of ourselves, we don’t have the energy to be there for others.

    That led me to do take a deeper look at self-care, how it impacts us, and how it changes as we evolve.

    Our needs may sound similar of we compare early grief and preparation for a marathon; however the specifics of each one looks very different.

    Self-care always calls for attention to what we need at the time, such as, the need for rest and sleep, the need for good food to nourish our bodies, and movement.

    When we are preparing for a marathon, our food and movement needs are much different than what we need in early grief.

    Movement in early grief helps to move our feelings through and may be gentle in nature rather than the regimented schedule required for marathon preparation.

    We may not be hungry, as we emerge from grief, yet nutritious food helps us to regain the capacity to feel our feelings. Food helps to support our bodies as we prepare for our marathon.

    In early grief sleep may be elusive, or we may sleep more than we did before, or a combination of each. Consistent sleep is important as we prepare out bodies to run a long distance.

    As you can see, self-care shifts according to where we are in our lives, and what is going on. I’ve touched on only a few of the activities we can do to take good care of ourselves. There are many more, and each person’s needs are different.

    Take some time to listen deeply to what you need emotionally, spiritually, physically, and intellectually.  Make a list of your needs in each category, and revisit it from time to time. You may discover your non-negotiable self-care rituals through this process.

    Those are the things that are a necessity for you to be the best you possible.

     

     

  • Another Side of Grief

    Another Side of Grief

    It’s been 8 months since we’ve moved to St. Paul from Raleigh, NC.

    We moved here to be closer to my son and his family. Our granddaughter Ayra was born in July of 2020, and after we met her, we knew that we wanted to be a part of her everyday life.

    One of the things that I’ve been aware of since we’ve moved here is the grief of all of the time lost when we lived apart.

    I was surprised to come upon this as grief.

    The fact that I can still be surprised by grief tells me how complicated grief can be. Even though I am aware of grief in my life, I can still be taken aback by the more subtle nuances of grief.

    My son had lived an airplane ride away form us for over 13 years.  We saw each other 2-3 times a year during that time, and we all longed for more time together.

    There was a time when I didn’t see a solution to wanting to be more of a part of my son’s life.

    Because I didn’t see a solution, I also didn’t see the possibilities.

    Because I didn’t see the possibilities, I was not open to any of the ways we could be a part of each other’s lives on a more regular basis.

    Once I began to get curious about how we could spend more time together, possibilities began presenting themselves. One of the first was to build a tiny home in his back yard, and spend summers in Minneapolis, and winters in Raleigh. Our plans to do just that were well underway when we learned of our granddaughter’s impending arrival.

    Because I had already opened the door of possibilities, when we were called very strongly to move here permanently, we walked through that door with ease.

    My grief came from not engaging the field of possibilities sooner.

    Thinking that I have wasted time that could have been better spent. I’ve found that is a common theme when we are looking at life decisions from the lens of grief, or disappointment.

    What I’ve learned through my own journey is that we are not ready until we are ready. When we are ready, we find what we are ready for, our teacher appears. Lamenting what we haven’t done, what we didn’t say yes to earlier can keep us stuck.

    Learning how to live with presences helps us to embrace what is here now, where life is calling us in each moment. It doesn’t mean that we will never feel difficult feelings again, or that grief stays up on that shelf where we put it, hoping it will stay our of site.

    Rather it means that we have the resources to meet our feelings, all of them, when they show up.

    As I met these most recent feelings of grief, I realized that up until now, I was not ready to make the move that I made. I am aware of all the reasons that this is true. I became aware of them in a moment of knowing as I sat in my daily Samyama practice. I was able to hold those feelings of grief in my heart, and allow my heart to transmute them. I also know that I don’t know ALL of the details of this move, and that is ok. I trust that as I continue to be devoted to the present moment, I will know what I need to know at exactly the right time.

    When you are ready to get curious about your own grief journey, I am here.

     

  • Children’s Grief

    Children’s Grief

    [fusion_builder_container type=”flex” hundred_percent=”no” equal_height_columns=”no” menu_anchor=”” hide_on_mobile=”small-visibility,medium-visibility,large-visibility” class=”” id=”” background_color=”” background_image=”” background_position=”center center” background_repeat=”no-repeat” fade=”no” background_parallax=”none” parallax_speed=”0.3″ video_mp4=”” video_webm=”” video_ogv=”” video_url=”” video_aspect_ratio=”16:9″ video_loop=”yes” video_mute=”yes” overlay_color=”” video_preview_image=”” border_color=”” border_style=”solid” padding_top=”” padding_bottom=”” padding_left=”” padding_right=””][fusion_builder_row][fusion_builder_column type=”1_1″ layout=”1_1″ background_position=”left top” background_color=”” border_color=”” border_style=”solid” border_position=”all” spacing=”yes” background_image=”” background_repeat=”no-repeat” padding_top=”” padding_right=”” padding_bottom=”” padding_left=”” margin_top=”0px” margin_bottom=”0px” class=”” id=”” animation_type=”” animation_speed=”0.3″ animation_direction=”left” hide_on_mobile=”small-visibility,medium-visibility,large-visibility” center_content=”no” last=”true” min_height=”” hover_type=”none” link=”” border_sizes_top=”” border_sizes_bottom=”” border_sizes_left=”” border_sizes_right=”” first=”true”][fusion_text]

    Over the past twenty years that have elapsed since our daughter, Leah died, I have had the privilege to work with children who have experienced loss. Children’s grief can be simple or complicated like much of the grief that adults feel. Children have not accumulated the experience that adults have. Therefore, it can be overwhelmingly difficult for them to understand loss and come to terms with grief.

    Soon after Leah died, I volunteered in a program that was sponsored by the Frederick County Hospice in Maryland. The program was called Camp Jamie and it drew children from the county who had experienced the death of a parent, grandparent of sibling. At the time, I didn’t have any experience working in this kind of program but the idea appealed to me as a way of giving back and helping someone else in their suffering.

    The program paired adult volunteers with children who were then grouped according to age. The camp was held at a local youth summer camp and the facilities were ideal since it had the ballfields, games and activities that allowed the kids to burn off their excess energy after the group had a chance to do some process work.

    Each night registered counselors reviewed the days activities.  The adult debrief provided the adult volunteers with suggestions on ways to allow the child to open up about what they were feeling and discussed methods for engaging the kids There was craft projects and plenty of time to do group activities focused around the kids.

    The adults modeled talking about the losses that they  had experienced to encourage the kids to tell their story.

    Another program was Comfort Zone Camp held in North Carolina at a YMCA summer camp. Comfort Zone Camp provided pre-screening and adult training of what to expect during the camp weekend. Again, the volunteers were matched to an age related group of kids. These kids had also had lost parents, siblings and grandparents. Adult volunteers or Big Buddies worked in various group process sessions with Little Buddies. The program ran from about age 4-5 up to late teens. weekend had a full itinerary that included a variety of sports, fun group activities and being outdoors.

    What distinguished these programs were the individual camp atmosphere and the process work that each group was provided.  In both programs, as the children were dropped off by their parents or guardians; you could visibly see that they carried the heavy weight of their loss. Seeing other kids who had experienced loss helped each child understand that they were not alone. Group team building, process work in small groups and personal storytelling by the volunteers helped break the ice and make the kids feel comfortable talking about their loved ones.

    Of course there were meals together, camp songs and in the case of Comfort Zone Camp, a very formal night vigil with lighted luminaire that the kids had decorated in memory of their family member. Each activity contributed to making the weekend memorable. Each night the adults reviewed the days progress.

    Each program had a very positive impact on the attendees and the heavy weight they carried on Friday was all but removed by Sunday afternoon. To see the difference that this time away provided was to see the burden lifted, allowing the kids to be kids again. It was very rewarding. A program like this is always looking for volunteers and age is not a barrier to providing a helping hand to a kid who needs a compassionate ear. I’ll talk more about kids grief and the Grief Recovery Method in another post.

    [/fusion_text][/fusion_builder_column][/fusion_builder_row][/fusion_builder_container]

  • Emerging From Covid

    Emerging From Covid

    [fusion_builder_container type=”flex” hundred_percent=”no” equal_height_columns=”no” menu_anchor=”” hide_on_mobile=”small-visibility,medium-visibility,large-visibility” class=”” id=”” background_color=”” background_image=”” background_position=”center center” background_repeat=”no-repeat” fade=”no” background_parallax=”none” parallax_speed=”0.3″ video_mp4=”” video_webm=”” video_ogv=”” video_url=”” video_aspect_ratio=”16:9″ video_loop=”yes” video_mute=”yes” overlay_color=”” video_preview_image=”” border_color=”” border_style=”solid” padding_top=”” padding_bottom=”” padding_left=”” padding_right=””][fusion_builder_row][fusion_builder_column type=”1_1″ layout=”1_1″ background_position=”left top” background_color=”” border_color=”” border_style=”solid” border_position=”all” spacing=”yes” background_image=”” background_repeat=”no-repeat” padding_top=”” padding_right=”” padding_bottom=”” padding_left=”” margin_top=”0px” margin_bottom=”0px” class=”” id=”” animation_type=”” animation_speed=”0.3″ animation_direction=”left” hide_on_mobile=”small-visibility,medium-visibility,large-visibility” center_content=”no” last=”true” min_height=”” hover_type=”none” link=”” border_sizes_top=”” border_sizes_bottom=”” border_sizes_left=”” border_sizes_right=”” first=”true”][fusion_text]

    I’ve been having a lot of conversations lately about how we are feeling as we emerge from the absurdity of the last year. The way we showed up in the world changed in an instant. The way we did business shifted, maybe forever. The way we socialized was distanced. From the first time I heard the term social distancing, I thought, no, that’s not what we need. We need physical distancing with social connections.

    As I think back to the early days of last year, when we first knew that our lives would be changing, yet we didn’t know how they would be changing, I was reminded of my early days of grief. And I realized that we were going to experience grief in ways we never had before.

    In my conversations about this past year, (and beyond) I’m hearing about so much grief.

    Grief about what we lost.

    Grief about the changes we experienced.

    Grief about the unknown.

    Our losses are so much more than the obvious.

    Some of us lost loved ones,

    And our losses extend into many layers of our lives.

    The way we work, the way we connect with friends and family, the way our children attend school, and so much more.

    Maybe some of the things we lost are better off gone from our lives, maybe they made space for more important endeavors.

    I think it’s important to consider what we have gained. So many questions arise as I consider these for myself.

    How have your relationships with your immediate family changed? What is different from the way it was before? What opportunities for creating a life you want to live presented themselves during this past year?

    A new understanding of what is important.

    The urgency to take a stand for those things, or make changes that align with your values.

    A greater understanding of who we are and how we want to live our lives going forward.

    We hear a lot about the “new normal”, what does that mean for you?

    Whenever you experience a major life-changing event, there is an opening to create a new life, to change the way you show up, and respond.  Where is your life calling you?

    Take some time to consider how this past year impacted you and what changes are right for you.

    And take time to grieve for your losses, honoring your feelings and making way for what is emerging.

    [/fusion_text][/fusion_builder_column][/fusion_builder_row][/fusion_builder_container]

  • More Insights on Men’s Grief in Marriage

    More Insights on Men’s Grief in Marriage

    [fusion_builder_container type=”flex” hundred_percent=”no” equal_height_columns=”no” menu_anchor=”” hide_on_mobile=”small-visibility,medium-visibility,large-visibility” class=”” id=”” background_color=”” background_image=”” background_position=”center center” background_repeat=”no-repeat” fade=”no” background_parallax=”none” parallax_speed=”0.3″ video_mp4=”” video_webm=”” video_ogv=”” video_url=”” video_aspect_ratio=”16:9″ video_loop=”yes” video_mute=”yes” overlay_color=”” video_preview_image=”” border_color=”” border_style=”solid” padding_top=”” padding_bottom=”” padding_left=”” padding_right=””][fusion_builder_row][fusion_builder_column type=”1_1″ layout=”1_1″ background_position=”left top” background_color=”” border_color=”” border_style=”solid” border_position=”all” spacing=”yes” background_image=”” background_repeat=”no-repeat” padding_top=”” padding_right=”” padding_bottom=”” padding_left=”” margin_top=”0px” margin_bottom=”0px” class=”” id=”” animation_type=”” animation_speed=”0.3″ animation_direction=”left” hide_on_mobile=”small-visibility,medium-visibility,large-visibility” center_content=”no” last=”true” min_height=”” hover_type=”none” link=”” border_sizes_top=”” border_sizes_bottom=”” border_sizes_left=”” border_sizes_right=”” first=”true”][fusion_text]

    I promised more on the idea of sharing grief in your marriage. How is this type of grief a different case from learning to handle loss and pain when an individual experiences a tragedy? Vulnerability plays an important role in this situation. When it is your own pain there are many ways of dealing with it. Some are good and some are not so good.

    With any type of shared emotion, women have the advantage when it comes to grief. In general women are more empathetic. Women are also more practiced in developing a network of support to help sustain them through difficult and rough times. There is generally support of one another over their shared experiences. 

    As I mentioned in a previous post, men have been conditioned by society and their father’s to follow a rather fixed set of rules. These rules held to a certain stereotype that believed that men should grieve alone and if you get hurt, you just walk it off. If you stuff your feelings long enough and often enough then you’ll never have to feel them.

    “You never saw John Wayne cry, don’t be a baby.” Sound familiar?

    Hypertension, heart issues, overeating, alcohol/drug abuse are some of the health issues that men have face from chronic stuffing of emotion. As the Grief Recovery Method states, we are not meant to be pressure cookers. Contrary to what happens in the kitchen when you pressure cook meat, It doesn’t make us tender. it doesn’t work that way with humans. Our blood pressure soars, we lash out in aggressive behavior, in short we fail ourselves and our marriages suffer.

    I did this. I thought I knew how to handle the grief that broke my heart when my daughter died. I was too quick to return to work, attempting to shoulder my burden and try to pick up the pieces of my life. I couldn’t or wouldn’t talk to anyone and my wife was grieving her daughter.

    That’s the thing, I had come to rely on my wife, Nancy to share my pain. I didn’t have anyone else. When she was deep in her own grief, it was hard for me to try to open up. I did what I knew how to do, I compartmentalized and stuffed the grief in a box to be dealt with later. Meanwhile, I tried to deflect the pain I was feeling by over drinking and zoning out on television. Attempting to “get through” each day only to pick up again and do it all over again. It worked for a while, until it didn’t. I could see the marriage getting stuck and before it broke apart I knew I had to act.

    That is where vulnerability comes in. I had to break open the stubborn lessons I was taught and share my pain with Nancy. One of the hardest things I have done was to admit that I needed help and that I couldn’t do this on my own. I had help from several sources, a therapist and the Grief Recovery Method. But it wasn’t until, I could open up to my wife tell her the brokenness that I felt that my healing truly began. More on this in future reflections.

    [/fusion_text][/fusion_builder_column][/fusion_builder_row][/fusion_builder_container]

  • Labels Are Confining

    Labels Are Confining

    [fusion_builder_container type=”flex” hundred_percent=”no” equal_height_columns=”no” menu_anchor=”” hide_on_mobile=”small-visibility,medium-visibility,large-visibility” class=”” id=”” background_color=”” background_image=”” background_position=”center center” background_repeat=”no-repeat” fade=”no” background_parallax=”none” parallax_speed=”0.3″ video_mp4=”” video_webm=”” video_ogv=”” video_url=”” video_aspect_ratio=”16:9″ video_loop=”yes” video_mute=”yes” overlay_color=”” video_preview_image=”” border_color=”” border_style=”solid” padding_top=”” padding_bottom=”” padding_left=”” padding_right=””][fusion_builder_row][fusion_builder_column type=”1_1″ layout=”1_1″ background_position=”left top” background_color=”” border_color=”” border_style=”solid” border_position=”all” spacing=”yes” background_image=”” background_repeat=”no-repeat” padding_top=”” padding_right=”” padding_bottom=”” padding_left=”” margin_top=”0px” margin_bottom=”0px” class=”” id=”” animation_type=”” animation_speed=”0.3″ animation_direction=”left” hide_on_mobile=”small-visibility,medium-visibility,large-visibility” center_content=”no” last=”true” min_height=”” hover_type=”none” link=”” border_sizes_top=”” border_sizes_bottom=”” border_sizes_left=”” border_sizes_right=”” first=”true”][fusion_text]

    I’m often asked if I am an intuitive or an empath when I ask a client a sacred question, one  that hits the heart of the matter, or that cuts to the core of what they have been working on. A questions that brings clarity to what they thought of as chaos.

    As a child growing up, I was often given labels.

    The shy one, the stutterer, the oldest, (which carried expectations) the quiet one.

    Because of this, labels have always made me cringe. I also cringed when I heard labels intended for others. In my heart of hearts, even when I was a child, I knew that I could not be defined by a label, that I was much more, and much less than anyone else’s perception of me.  It took me a long time to be able understand who I was, and it was through my grief journey that I was finally able to step fully and unapologetically into my Self.

    Even though I work intuitively, I don’t label myself “An Intuitive.”

    Even though I am able to feel how my client is feeling, I don’t call myself  “An Empath. “

    To me these are labels that confine me in a box in which I don’t fit.

    I’ve had business coaches tell me that I have to define myself in specific terms. And nothing ever resonated completely.  I can tell you what I do, and I won’t confine myself to a box that limits who I am.

    Sometimes I describe myself as a Grief Journey Guide.

    That feels spacious enough to allow all of me to show up as I do in each moment.  It also allows my prospective clients to get clarity on what that means. When I’m asked, “What does that mean?” or “What do you do as a Grief Journey Guide?”  Then I get to tell them what I do, and more specifically, what our work together might look like, because by that time I’ve spent enough time with them to feel into where they are being called.

    My work with each client looks a little different.

    Since I don’t limit myself in to a specific way to work with everyone, we are free to explore where my client is being called at the specific time we begin working together, and the course our work takes is created from there.  It all starts with presence.  I teach a present moment awareness practice called Samyama, and then we see what arises.  The present moment always holds the question that will allow my client to feel deeper into the answer.

    My work can’t be described in a 30 second commercial.  I don’t resonate with traditional marketing strategies. As a matter of fact, I don’t market my business.

    I share who I am and trust that those who are drawn to my work will show up, and they always do.

    [/fusion_text][/fusion_builder_column][/fusion_builder_row][/fusion_builder_container]