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Category: Milestone Days

  • Tales from My Journey

    Tales from My Journey

    When I first started my year-long quest on my 64th birthday I thought I went into it with no expectations. I certainly didn’t expect to discover I needed shoulder replacement surgery. And yet, as I prepared for it, I found out that I held emotional baggage in my shoulder.

    I first thought that releasing the emotions would magically release my shoulder. What I’ve come to realize is that by releasing old emotions that were stuck in my shoulder, I’m giving my new shoulder joint a better chance of working properly.

    As I approach my 65th birthday, sometimes I’m perplexed about being that age.

    It took me some time to get used to having a 6 at the beginning of my age. Leading up to the year-long quest I began a journey to get healthier, not because I was dreading the 6-5 birthday, but because it was time for me to take care of my health in a big way.

    I began working with a functional medicine doctor. There were some major issues going on. Nothing that was critical at the time, but things that could become critical if I didn’t change. One of the things that showed up was adrenal fatigue, and I know now that the adrenal fatigue began in the early days of my grief journey. I tended to a lot of things on my grief journey, but not my health, not in the way I needed to, and my body was feeling the effects. Grief manifests physically, how can it not?

    It took me a year of diligent work, and investigation to begin to finally heal from the physical effects of grief.

    I’m still working on it, but we’ve found the right formula for my body.

    One of the biggest struggles has been consistent sleep, a common symptom of adrenal fatigue. It has taken scrupulous attention to my evening routine, eliminating foods that do not support my body, taking supplements that do, along with meditation, movement, and more. As my sleep improved, my energy returned, and my adrenals began to get stronger. I know that this is a way of life for me, because it is life giving for me. In all of this I’m finding my natural rhythm, and it’s not what I thought it would be, or what I wanted it to be. Again, it is what is right for me, and I’m embracing what is right for me, however it shows up these days.

    I keep receiving reminders about my upcoming birthday, mostly from folks wanting to help me make the best decision about Medicare packages. When I think about turning 65, sometimes it feels surreal; sometimes I wonder how it arrived so soon. What I don’t feel is old. I still feel like the same me I always did; in fact, in a lot of ways, I feel more like me than ever. I still have a way to go on my year-long quest, and I know that I will shed more things that no longer serve me as well as receive insights along the way. So how do I really feel about turning 65? I don’t really like it, I want things to be different, and they aren’t.

    Can I complain about it, and rail about fleeting youth?

    Sure I can, and I’ll still celebrate my 65th birthday in a few months. That’s why being with what is, is sooooo much better than trying to go back to the way things were. From this place I can be the best me I am now, and truth be told, I have more energy now, and feel better that I did 5, 10, or more years ago. I choose to live my life fully now because lamenting about what would have or could have been keeps me from my full potential. I don’t want to wake up at 75 or 85 and feel like I didn’t live my life all along the way.

  • Another Milestone

    As I write these words, I am marking the 18th anniversary of Leah’s death.

    The week that starts with her accident and ends with her death is always different each year. There is always a surreal quality to them. I decided to take this day to be with my thoughts, to write, to contemplate, to meditate. My tears have been close to the surface all day. It feels right to be quiet today; to honor her with quiet contemplation.

    I am also reminded today that it is in walking my grief journey that I find purpose in my life and my work.

    I never would have found the courage to share my story with others in the way that I’m being called to do so without the lesson I learned, and continue to learn, from my daughter and from our journey together. My life is integrated for the first time ever. There is no separation from who I am in my personal life and who I am in my business life. There is only the fullness of who I am in each moment.

    My grief journey shows me how to live fully every day.

    Even when my feelings are difficult, even when my tears are close to the surface; through it all I have found a buoyancy of my heart that let’s me know that I am following the right path.

    On my 64th birthday in June of 2017 I was called to begin a yearlong quest. A quest to examine what no longer serves me, and to call in what is needed next. I want to emerge from my quest on my 65th birthday with all I need as I welcome this next phase of my life. There have already been several challenges and discoveries. I still do not have all the answers to the questions I posed at the beginning of the quest, but I do have some. I also have glimpses of other answers. I’m careful not to put too much stock in the glimpses because I know I’m not seeing the whole picture right now. This particular anniversary, in the middle of my yearlong quest, is piercing my heart in a new way. I will begin to share more about my discoveries as well as where I am being called in my life in the next few months.

    I am grateful for my journey, for all of the circumstances that aligned to make me who I am; for the courage to continue to dig to find myself; for the breaking open of my heart to hold all that is here in each moment.

    For a good part of my life I have searched to define myself; to describe who I am and what I stand for. That has eluded me for a long time. Here is the first jewel of my quest. My name is Anju, she who lives in heart. I have been inviting this name into my heart since I received it. I will not be changing my name on legal documents, but I will be taking on Anju and the spirit of my name in my daily life.

    Who we are in one aspect of our lives is who we are in all aspects.

    As I take that on, I enter the world as a fully integrated self, reclaiming all the parts of me and of my soul that were scattered in order for me to survive in an earlier part of my life. As I enter my next stage, I need every part of me to stand in my wholehearted self.

    I invite you to come along with me on my journey and to make your own if you are called.

    I am doing a series of classes in my Grief and Samyama Facebook group called “Living Life Fully Now”. I’ve been sharing what that means to me in various stages of my grief journey and my life. The classes will run every Wednesday night until the end of 2018. We will also reflect on 2018, and see what no longer serves us as we move to 2019. The class is in Zoom, and I share the recording in the group. If you would like to be added to the group so that you can attend the classes, please let me know, or send me a friend request on Facebook. We need to be friends there in order for me to add you. The group is a secret group to ensure that our conversations occur in a safe space. Only those invited into the group can see it, and only members can comment. I hope to see you there.

  • Profound Insights and Feeling What We’re Feeling

    It’s back to school time.

    I live in an area with year round schools but I’ve been seeing back-to-school pictures and posts since July. It’s this time of year, however, when traditional schools return to class that remind me that I will soon be entering the months leading up to Leah’s accident.

    The new school year always brought excitement in our house.

    Seeing friends again, new clothes, schools supplies, and the expectation of what the next school year would bring. Nothing marked the progression of time for me like school starting. I could see how much Peter and Leah had grown over the summer, not just physically, but in every other way. Very often a loss happens around the same time of some kind of milestone and the meaning of that milestone is forever changed. That’s what happened for me when Leah died. This time of the year always holds unexpected feelings, and I’m still discovering places that happens; almost 18 years later.

    A few nights ago we were at a concert.

    In the row in front of us there was a young woman who was pregnant. She was there with her family. A family friend came over, sat down in front of her, gently placed her hands on the woman’s pregnant belly, looking lovingly into her eyes, and said, “Look at you!” In that instant, I realized yet another experience I would not have, another secondary loss, I would never look into my pregnant daughter’s eyes placing my hands on her belly, the one holding my grandchild.

    Tears came and I let them.

    Long gone are the days when I suppress my feelings because they are too painful or because they come at an inconvenient time. I allowed the feelings to be there as I listened to the band playing, and in a few minutes the tears passed, leaving in their wake, a tender place in my heart. My heart was opened a little more in that moment and it allowed me to feel the music and the energy of the band in a deeper way.

    It astounds me that my grief journey continues to bring me profound insights each time I fully engage with my feelings. Last night it would have been easy to suppress that particular moment, to look away and only listen to the music. If I had I would have missed an opportunity to understand a little more about my feelings and how they allow me to say yes to the full spectrum of who I am.

  • Holidays and Milestones

    As I look at my calendar, July 4th is just around the corner. One of the things I talk about often is how holidays and milestone days can bring up associative memories that remind us of our loved ones who have died.

    The 4th of July may not be a holiday that holds those kinds of memories for you, or it may. One thing to remember is that everyone has his or her own unique memories. Your family may have had a reunion each July 4th, and this year everyone is reluctant to bring up the fact that a family member has died since last year. Maybe some family members are even reluctant to attend this year because of their discomfort. This is how family traditions change when family structures change.

    What if the family member who died is your mother, or grandmother? How do you feel about attending the yearly family gathering, whether it is around a holiday or not? Are you looking forward to remembering your loved one with other family members who share your memories? Or do the memories cause too much pain?

    Whatever your answers to these questions, remember that there are as many different responses to them as there are people in your family. What would it be like to have a conversation about everyone’s feelings and allow each person to feel like the way they are processing their grief is okay? If this isn’t a practice that is common in your family, you can take comfort in the fact that most of us have no idea of how to have these kind of difficult conversations.



    Here are some thoughts to help you. These are applicable to any holiday or milestone.

    What is difficult about this holiday?

    • Take some time to write your thoughts and feelings about this holiday. Get in touch with your thoughts. Sometimes, as a holiday or milestone day approaches, we are caught up in the anticipation and we can lose sight of our feelings.

    What do you need this year to navigate this holiday with a little more ease?

    • It may be a change of scenery for a few years, or not participating in certain activities. It’s important to ask this question every year, as your feelings may change from year to year.

    How can you honor your loved one during the holiday celebration?

    • Do you want to include their favorite food or drink in the celebration? Or will that be too hard?
    • Is there an activity you would like to include to remember them? Do you want to take time for everyone to share a memory?

    What do you want to tell your loved one this year on this occasion?

    • You can write a letter to your loved one, and invite anyone else attending to write one as well.
    • Decide what you want to do with the letter.
    • Do you want to read them aloud, or burn them in a fire?
    • Everyone may have a different answer to that question.
    • You can also share your thoughts in smaller groups. Find something that works for you and your family.

    How can you share your thoughts with other family members?

    • You may want to communicate some of these ideas with family members before the gathering.
    • Let everyone know that you acknowledge everyone’s wishes.

    Having difficult conversations may allow your holiday traditions to change in a way that keeps everyone connected. How many times have you heard a story like this? “After mom died, there was no reason for us to stay connected, she was the glue that held us together.” That doesn’t have to happen in your family. Yes, your traditions may change, but you can create a change that meets the needs of your family, and pave the way for deeper family connection. If there’s a family member who is not ready to be a part of this kind of conversation, you can keep the door open for them to join you when they are ready. You may discover new bonds forming as your family navigates difficult changes.

    You are opening the door for blessings and grace to arrive and assist you on your way.

     

  • Another Turn Around the Sun

    As I write this, we’ve entered into my birthday month;

    by the time you read this, my birthday will have passed. There was a time when I didn’t look forward to my birthday; a time when my birthday didn’t live up to my expectation. The problem was, I didn’t really know what I wanted my birthday to be, I just knew that I always felt a sense of dread as it approached and disappointed when it was over. Somewhere along the line I decided to take the responsibility for enjoying my birthday into my own hands. It took a few years before I got it right, until I could ask for what I wanted and truly plan and enjoy my birthday. I did it though, and found joy in simple pleasures, finally looking forward to that day instead of dreading it.

    And then Leah died.

    How could I celebrate my birthday without my daughter’s physical presence? There were many years that I didn’t celebrate. My birthday became the third event in a black hole that began with Mother’s Day and included Leah’s birthday in April.

    My 50th birthday celebration was a bittersweet day that included dedicating a mediation spot in our yard to Leah, as well as being surrounded by family and friends with good food and live music, exactly the kind of celebration that I treasure. I began to see that it was possible to be with the full spectrum of feelings on my birthday.

    I could feel sad and feel joy at the same time, one feeling not diminishing or superseding the other.

    Every feeling could have its place in my heart. After that I began to plan my birthdays again. Each year finding something that honored where I was at the time and making space to feel the feelings that missing Leah on my birthday created.

    This year I am 64. I’m still not quite used to the fact that my age starts with a 6, and sometimes that means I think I am too old, or that it’s too late for me to live my life fully as me. Most of the time though, it means that I stay true to what I’ve come to call Leah’s Legacy, that losing her is too high a price to pay to not be who I am. I’ve done a lot of work to excavate my true self as a part of my grief journey and the writing of my book.

    This year, on my 64th birthday, I am embarking on a yearlong quest.

    My intention is to arrive at age 65 with intention, releasing and surrendering anything that I am still clinging to, or is clinging to me, that no longer serves me. I will be asking to be shown whatever I need to step fully into my Truth in each moment. I will be fully claiming my Queen, Wild Woman, and Priestess. I will reclaim my health and know my vibrant and radiant self. I’m very excited to begin this quest, yet I know that there will be trials along the way. That’s the way it is with every quest. There will be initiatory moments, as well as triumphs. I am entering this next year willing to be in the unknown. I will be recording my journey and will share it with you as I am called.

    In the mean time, here are some strategies for navigating a difficult birthday.

    • Take some time to write down what you want this particular year. It’s important to do this each year because you may feel differently from year to year.
    • Plan your celebration exactly as you want it to be.
    • Be true to your own heart. Don’t feel pressured to meet someone else’s expectations, even if it’s something you’ve always done. Let them know that this year you need something else.
    • If you are missing a loved one during your birthday take some time to honor your feelings.
    • If, during your birthday, you are in a new situation, a new location, etc., find something in your new circumstances that speaks to your heart.

    Remember to be gentle with yourself. Grief changes us and you may still be discovering how it has changed you. Allow yourself time to find what you need now in your new reality.

  • New Year Reflections

    It’s that time of the year again.

    Time to reflect on the year that went before, and make intentions for the year spread out in front of us. For most of my life as the year waned, I would look back on the past year and berate myself for all the ways I perceived failure in my life and how the new year offered me a clean slate to finally get it right. I would resolve to eat less, exercise more, be the best mother I could be to my children, find my potential and finally live up to it, and on and on. Sound familiar?

    A few years ago I was done with the new years resolution treadmill.

    It felt like it set me up for failure rather than provide a roadmap for new goals that would become a part of my daily life that led to a better me. That year I began making a list of celebrations from the past year and making a list of what I wanted to accomplish as I went forward.

    Sometime during this past year I refined my process further. This year I published my book. Along the way this process provided challenges and achievements to celebrate every step of the way. It provided me with course corrections that couldn’t wait for another year to pass, it took me deeper into the practice of presence and discerning for myself what would support me as I took on what seemed like a gargantuan task at the beginning of the year. One of my goals at the end of last year was to publish my book, and if truth be told, I made that intention without really believing in my ability to do so. After I made that goal I heard a little voice inside say, “Other people are authors, you’re not an author.”

    A part of my process this year was unraveling that story and meeting all of the doubts and fears that were hiding in the cracks and crevices as the story disintegrated.

    I went on another turn of my grief spiral as I revisited the events of Leah’s death and how I was feeling in the early years of missing her. My life went through another round of deconstruction during this process. As stories that no longer served me fell away, I had to learn how to cultivate a structure to my life and my body that was strong enough and flexible enough to hold this new work that was longing to be born. This was a part of the process that surprised me, and it was a part that I eventually welcomed because it allowed me access to parts of myself that were long hidden.

    Another experience this year also assisted with my new emergence. Dan and I celebrated our 40th anniversary with a trip to France; 3 days in Paris and a 10-day river cruise on the Saone and Rhone Rivers.

    After returning from our French vacation, and we both brought with us a nasty bug that had us in bed for a week. It was the worst cold I have had in a long time. There was nothing I could do but surrender to my body and let her have the time she needed to heal and integrate whatever was going on. I realized that my grief journey has completely changed the way I meet my life, including how I experienced this particular cold. While I did want to feel better, I didn’t push it. I relaxed as much as I could into my body, without trying to make things different. I had an experience on my trip that also illustrates how my grief journey has informed the rest of my life.

    While we were in Paris, we did a bus tour of the city, which took us to Notre Dame Cathedral. I’d been looking forward to seeing Notre Dame ever since Art History Class in college. As I crossed the square approaching Notre Dame, my eyes started filling with tears. I felt all of the history and splendor of the cathedral, the flying buttresses, the rose window, the arches, all of it just as described in those art history classes over 30 years ago, I was in awe. As I entered the nave the tears continued to well. I looked over at Dan and his eyes were filling too. I stood there for a moment and let myself fully experience standing in Notre Dame.

    Every cell of my body was having the experience. I really have no words for what happened.

    When we returned to our hotel I reflected on my experience at Notre Dame. I realized that the lessons I learned as I traveled my grief journey had served me well in every area of my life, not just my grief journey. I learned to feel all of my feelings whenever they arose, even when I was standing in front of Notre Dame Cathedral.

    In that moment I had a flash of a conversation I had with someone about what is on my bucket list. At the time of the conversation I couldn’t come up with anything on my list and both my friend and I wondered why that was. After my experience at Notre Dame, I knew why I couldn’t come up with a list of things to check off before I die. I knew that I want to fully experience everything I see and everywhere I go as I continue to live my life. Everywhere I am called to visit can evoke feelings and experiences connecting me to people and places that provide deep life experiences. Certainly Paris, the Eiffel Tower, and Notre Dame were amazing places to visit and I reveled in the experience.

    What is the connection between this experience and the experience of bringing my book to into world?

    Both experiences took me out of my comfort zone.

    They both opened my eyes to more possibilities and also forced me to look at dismantling old patterns that no longer worked for me. In the process of that dismantling I had to go deep inside and listen to my own wisdom; listen to what worked for me and not listen to society’s or other expert’s advice or validation.

    I was reminded in a profound way that being present in each moment, feeling my feelings fully, and being open to those possibilities can happen anywhere and everywhere. I was reminded that when I live my life with an open heart I will be led to experiences that will fill my life with what I need at exactly the right time.

  • 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.

  • 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.

  • Are You Dreading The Holidays?

    I am writing you to this week from snowy Omaha. I am finding that living in a place that has a true winter is bringing up memories from my childhood in Chicago. There is a feeling when you go outside in 10-degree weather that you just don’t get in North Carolina. The air smells different, the sky looks different, the cold goes through your clothes in a matter of minutes no matter how heavy your coat is, and not matter how little skin is exposed. It was not an all-together bad memory. I used to love going to the ice skating rink at the park each day after school. The thrill of skating took my mind off of the cold, or maybe as a child I was not as sensitive to the cold.

    Wearing a heavy winter coat, I felt insulated and was less aware of where I was in space, less aware of others around me. All of these things remind me that associative memory is a strong phenomenon.

    Associative memory plays a big part in the way grief appears during the holiday season.

    Associative memory is when our memories are attached to something from a certain time in our past. It can be a food, a smell, a song, or an event, anything that reminds us of the past.
    The smell of risotto cooking reminds me of my grandmother. The smell of Christmas trees reminds me of going out in the cold snowy weather and looking for a tree when I was a child. Seeing a snow village at Christmas time reminds me of Leah. She loved the ceramic town we had and she always arranged it. It is one of our Christmas traditions that we have not been able to resume since she has been gone.

    The holiday season can be stressful on it own without the added layers of grief. Grief is a difficult emotion to describe because it is made up of so many other feelings such as sadness, anger, devastation, and so many more.

    These feelings often show up in different intensities at different times.

    What helps you cope one time may make you dissolve into tears the next. Having some skills, or some alternative traditions to draw on when you find yourself hit by intense feelings can help you to cope with the holidays. Here are a few that worked for me.

    Take a look at your family traditions.

    Are there any that feel too painful? Give yourself permission to do things differently or not at all this year. You may feel differently next year.

    A change of scenery may help.

    Traveling to a new destination can take you out of the familiar that may be too painful for you. You will still miss your loved one, and remember past holidays, however you will not be faced every day with constant associative memories that you are not ready to face, especially if your loss has been recent. Even if your loss has not been so recent, take care of your own needs. We still don’t put up a Christmas tree, and it has been 14 years.

    Self-care is especially important during times of stress.

    When I am feeling stress my grief becomes overwhelming. Give yourself some extra self-care this holiday season. I have suggested that you keep a list of things that nourish you, or give you pleasure. Take your list out now and look at it, is there anything you want to add? It is good to have this list handy when you do feel stressed or overwhelmed. You can choose something from your list without having to think of what you want to do when you are already feeling stress. Naps can be great stress relievers, as can mindlessly doodling.

    Remember that grief changes with the seasons.

    What worked this year may not work next year. There is no right or wrong way to meet your grief, no timetable on when you will begin to heal. Give yourself the time you need, honor your own process. Each member of your family will process grief in their own way too. You can let them know their way is ok, sometimes that is all that is needed, to know that however we are processing grief and wherever we are our grief journey is exactly right for us. That can be enough to allow us to relax a little and let the healing begin.