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Category: Thriving after Loss

  • My Grief Journey is Like a Compost Pile

    My Grief Journey is Like a Compost Pile

    My yearlong quest is over.

    I spent my birthday in Minneapolis, reflecting, in gratitude, and connecting with beloved family. We talked a lot about grief, and where our journeys have taken each of us.

    We were all grieving the same person, Leah, and we all had profoundly different experiences. Each of our lives were frozen in the moment she left us physically, and each of us chose to look deeply at our lives and decide if we wanted to figure out how to thaw out that moment and see how it had changed us.

    Grief does that; it changes us.

    For me, some of those changes were evident early on. I knew I couldn’t stay stuck in the never ending days of distraction and diversion, even though I wanted to do just that. Something inside me knew, even then, that I was being called to something greater. I knew that staying stuck would not honor Leah, would not be an example for Peter, and would not give me any chance of staying in relationship with Dan.

    In our conversation last week, I said that

    my grief journey has been like a compost pile,

    and everyone laughed, and then we went on to talk about how it has been just that, for all of us. We each took all of our pain, devastation, suffering, and feelings that we didn’t even know existed and mixed them together with prayers, faith, willingness to not know where we were going, and time.

    Along the way we found grace, blessing, and love.

    We found what we needed to dig deep and do the work that grief illuminated in each of us. From that pile of messy feelings newness began to arise. I began to process my grief with Samyama, present moment awareness, I was called to walk with others on their journey, I wrote my book and companion journal, I was able to heal my childhood wounds on a much deeper level. Healing my wounds allows me to show up in my own life in a fuller way, to embrace my own radiance,

    without needing to diminish my true essence.

    Much like table scraps mixed with water, sunlight, mixing, and time turn into fertile soil to grow next year’s garden, my new life today was nourished by the scraps of my old life combined with blessings and grace. This also dispels the myth that time alone can heal; it’s very much the work that is done during that time. My shoulder is a great example of that. If I had ignored my PT exercises, I would have nowhere near the range of motion I now have 4+ months after surgery.

    This is my piece of the compost pile, Dan and Peter have their own, and those are their stories to tell. Our trajectory as a family is changing too.

    We are planning to build a tiny home in Peter’s backyard

    so we can spend more time with him. As we were discussing all of this I felt a deconstruction of old templates falling away as we made plans for a more connected future together. I’m not sure it would have been possible if we all didn’t say yes to our doing the work necessary to claw our way through the brambles of our journeys. I am grateful beyond measure that we did say yes.

    What I know now is that the unfolding of my heart could not have happened in the way it has without the journey I’ve been through, and continue to go through without Leah’s physical presence.

    The exquisite divine arrangement of what that means is so heartbreaking.

    It is the true essence of the cost of losing Leah.

  • Lessons From My Shoulder Surgery

    Lessons From My Shoulder Surgery

    What did I learn from my down time, while I was recovering from
    shoulder surgery?

    As I reflect on this time, it is clear to me that my surgery and the time
    after was not down time at all. Let me explain.

    Since the beginning of this year I’ve been aware of clarity of language, more precisely, how I use language and how my words influence me.

    The time spent preparing, during, and recovering from my surgery were anything but down time. Yes, I was not participating in the activities that were a part of my daily life before surgery, however, there was plenty going on. Some of this was doing and some of this was not doing.

    In the days and weeks immediately following surgery, I was not doing
    much. I was resting, sleeping, resting, and sleeping. It was my body that was doing the healing, even though I couldn’t see what was going on.
    There were anesthesia drugs to be flushed, bones and skin to be knitted, and muscle to be healed. There were times when I was certain that I
    could hear them all knitting and purling in there.

    There wasn’t much that I could do for myself. I needed help with just about everything. I had an opportunity to re-examine my relationship with giving and receiving and asking for what I needed. I learned more about gratitude, humility, and about my own natural rhythm.
    As I emerged more and more each week, it felt like I wasn’t put together the same way as I was before, that I was cellularly changed. Yes, I now have a bionic shoulder, and
    there are parts of me that are no longer with me, but this felt deeper, like I was more in alignment with my Truth.

    My recovery time was a time of slowing down; I had an opportunity to be with the feelings that surfaced during this time. I’m grateful for the gift of extra time to explore my internal life more deeply. This prescribed time of slowing down was timed nicely during the yearlong quest that I began on my 64th birthday. I wrote these words last year as I made the intention to enter this quest;

    I acknowledge that when I am fully aware and awake in my life that everything that I encounter is in service to my yearlong intention; every experience, every encounter, every insight, everything. Enough time and space will be required to integrate these experiences. I commit fully to this quest. June 13, 2018.

    When I wrote those words, I had no idea that a shoulder replacement would be one of the necessary experiences of this year. Here is some of what I know now, 3+ months after my surgery and 3+ weeks before the end of my yearlong quest on my 65th birthday.

    I long for the luxury of unstructured time, not to wile away the hours with distraction, rather to allow curiosity to lead me to my next adventure or initiation.

    I desire to listen deeply to my innermost heart. It is here that I connect
    with my soul, my intuition, and my inner rhythm.

    I am done with efforting; trying to do something. I now know that efforting isn’t necessary when I’m dancing to my soul’s rhythm and purpose.

    When I listen to my soul’s purpose, it always leads to right action,
    whether in my work, creating sacred space in my home or body, learning, reflecting, or playing.

    These are some of the questions that began arising as I became curious;

    What deeply nourishes me, body, mind, and soul? What brings me
    pleasure and fun? How do I play?

    How can I bring a sense of ease and flow to my work? What do I need
    each day to nurture all parts of me?

    I’m sure there will be more insights in the next three weeks, or maybe
    not. Maybe the next three weeks will be for integrating what has already happened, even those things I know nothing about yet. I do know that
    I feel so much gratitude for this path I am on; for the capacity to live my life unapologetically as me.

    Where is life calling you in this moment?

  • 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.

  • Many Facets of Grief

    Grief travels a diverse and twisted road.

    It’s often a road that we could never have imagined. I remember thinking that I was grieving for my daughter, Leah, differently than I ever thought I would. You will encounter many facets or aspects of grief as you travel this road. The facets may also be seen as stages of grief; however, I’ve come to see them as facets because for me stages of grief suggest something that will be completed, where as a facet is a smaller part of a whole. My experience has been that a facet can be revisited again and again. As we gain clarity on our journey, a facet can illuminate a deeper truth each time it is revisited.
    Here are just a few of the facets I have experienced.

    Early Grief

    Early grief is not defined by a specific time frame. Early grief usually has many facets of its own. Being overwhelmed, shocked, and needing distractions and diversions can serve a purpose as we discern our new normal. We learn how to take care of ourselves in a new way during the early days of our grief journey. In the early days of my own grief, I was unable to do much of anything. This served as a time of deep listening, of finding what I needed, of rest, and of being with my feelings. When all of that was too overwhelming, I used diversion or distraction to avoid my feelings. Eventually, I learned how much diversion or distraction was helpful and when I needed to begin engaging with my feelings. Everyone has his or her own timetable for moving through this first part of grief. Learning what yours is can help you gain clarity while in this facet.


    Searching for Meaning

    At some point you may wonder if there is more to your grief journey than what appears on the surface. I would often wonder why I was still here and why Leah wasn’t. It became important for me to know what that reason was, and how I could live up to where my grief journey was calling me to be. As I began to learn how to be present to all of my feelings, I began to realize that it was during these times—when I truly was able to experience presence—that I would receive what I needed to continue to say yes to my journey, to my life, and to where I was being called to go. In the present moment I found everything I needed.

    Settling for a Good Life

    This is a facet I only recently recognized. After I left my job and began seeing clients, I felt like I had found the meaning I was searching for. I was helping others navigate their grief journeys. I felt like my life had purpose again; and that I was honoring Leah’s memory. I could have stayed at that place without any fear that I was not living the life I was meant to live. Except that I would not have written my book. I would not be sharing my story the way I am now. I would have stayed in that somewhat comfortable place to avoid doing deeper work, inner work that was not at all easy, and I would have not continued to evolve. I’ve come to realize that living the life I am meant to live means that I continue to say yes to the fullness of who I am in each moment. My growth will never stop.

    The facets that make up each of our journeys are unique to each of us. I’ve experienced many other facets of my grief journey along the way, and I revisit them from time to time. I’ve also seen how the lessons I’ve learned in my grief journey have given insight to healing wounds from my childhood. That’s something I didn’t expect. I continue to be surprised by all of the threads of my journey; how they are weaving a life unlike anything I could have ever imagined. Maybe it’s not the life I would have asked for, but the life I say yes to in each moment.

  • 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.

  • Claiming My Voice

    2017 was the year I claimed my voice.

    It was the year I began to tell my story at my book events. Each time I spoke my story I felt more and more like myself. It felt like I was breathing life into a part of myself that I was never quite sure would ever see the light of day.

    As the year went on, I began to work with a voice coach, I began to get comfortable seeing myself on video, I began to look more deeply at my signature presentation.

    I realized I had a signature presentation.

    What do I mean when I say that I felt more like myself? Well, for most of my life I felt like I was a fraud, that I was pretending, and that I wasn’t enough. I didn’t feel comfortable in my own skin. In early 2017 I began using my voice like never before. I voiced the story of my grief journey, but also learned to tell my story, to speak my truth whenever I had an opportunity. Not in a boastful or self-important way but in a way that was life saving, in a way that connected me to my soul, in a way that kept me in the present moment like never before, and in a way that helped connect to the person I’ve always been, but had been trying to “get rid of” for so many years. It was subtle and unrestrained at the same time. It felt so freeing!

    It was another level of inner work that was happening just by being scrupulously devoted to the present moment and all that it held for me.

    I also began to separate the me before my experience of grief and the me who grieved. The me before my grief was a part of the everything that helped my along the dark spiral of my grief journey. The one emerging from that darkness was the one who benefited from the way I met my grief journey. Everything began to make sense. My whole life came into focus in a way it hadn’t before. The inner work I did after I wrote my book allowed me to develop the capacity in my body to be able to hold the story and feelings so that I could bring it into the world. This first year of speaking about my book provided another level of inner work that brought me to the realization that claiming and using my voice is the key to truly loving myself — all parts of myself — unconditionally.

    Wow! I feel like I can relax in a way that I never could before.

    If my journey has taught me anything it’s that as long as I’m willing to do the work I’ll continue to evolve. I have no doubt that I will continue to become the best version of myself and, that in this moment, I have no idea what that will look like. I thought when I was helping my clients thrive after loss that I was done, then when I wrote my book I thought I was done. Now I realize I’ll never be done.

    As I use my voice in ways I never have before, I realize I’ll continue evolving into the person I am meant to be in this world. That excites me like nothing has for a long time!

    I’ve always wanted to live my life as the wild and outrageously messy person that I am.

    My instinct right now is to explain to you exactly what I mean by messy, because it’s not what you might think it is, but another thing I’m over is the need to constantly explain myself in order to fit into a perception of reality that never existed.

    I always thought that to be loved and accepted I would have to tame my wild heart and let her out in small measurable quantities, always on the lookout for the tsk-tsking of other people’s judgments thus reigning myself in to be loved and accepted. No more.

    Today I claim my right to take up all the space I need to take up and to unapologetically stand in my Truth, however that shows up from moment to moment.

    How about you? Are you willing to stake a claim for yourself?
    Are you willing to let your own wild heart fully participate in your wondrous life?
    I hope so, because together, we will have so much fun!

  • Why I Don’t Live a Balanced Life

    I used to endeavor to live a balanced life.

    I used to think that if I controlled and managed everything in my life just right that I would be happy. If I could carve out the exact right number of hours for family, work, health, recreation, etc. that I would have the right formula for success. If I didn’t get angry, if I didn’t get sad, if I didn’t get in situations that brought up my “negative” emotions I could stay in a comfortable place. I could avoid confrontation. I could avoid criticism. I could avoid disapproval. I worked hard at this, trying to stay on an even keel at all costs. And the cost was huge.

    I found that striving for balance was a constant inner struggle.

    I found that in order to be perceived as being balanced and in control, my inner battle with myself raged. I confronted myself when I couldn’t control my anger. I criticized myself when I ate the wrong food, or too much of it. I disapproved of myself when I did not meet the standards of perfection that I thought would guarantee a happy and balanced life. I was miserable, yet I kept at it convinced that if I was able to live in the narrow bandwidth I could accomplish my goal. I was still working as a Project Manager in construction at the time. We were doing start up on a new building, and we were trying to get the set points on the building’s control system to work properly. The set point spread was 4 degrees on the heating and cooling system. If the temperature went 2 degrees higher or 2 degrees lower than the set point the heating or cooling would come on, depending on the season. I wanted a set point. I wanted an automatic setting that would ramp my emotions up or down if they got 2 notches away from my ideal state of tranquility.

    Another way to look at it is to imagine a teeter-totter. I loved going up and down on one at the park when I was a child. It wouldn’t be much fun if it stayed in one place. Or imagine standing on it in the middle and balancing it. Think of the struggle it would take to get it to stand still.

    The harder I tried to live a balanced life, the harder it became to try to stay in the place that I thought would give me balance. Staying in that place also assured that I didn’t have to be seen. I thought it would be a comfortable place to be, an invisible, calm, small place to live.

    And then my daughter died. I found out that I couldn’t control anything.

    My life was thrown into a chaos that was beyond anything I had previously been trying to avoid. I didn’t have the strength to figure out how I had let this happen. I knew at some level that it was not my fault, yet for a while I blamed myself. I was tossed into an inferno of devastation.

    When I began to emerge from this place and looked around at the destruction that was my life I had a choice. I could continue to try to put my life in an order that resembled my former life, or I could open my eyes wide and ask, what now? That’s what I did.

    I had already been to the depths of despair, the place I thought I could manage myself with enough control and force. That had me struggling to be perfect and beating myself up when I couldn’t reach my idea of what perfection was for me in any given moment. Instead I chose to live an unbalanced life.

    Living an unbalanced life means that I get to live fully as myself. I get to feel the full spectrum of feelings in all of their messy glory. I choose to live here, without a set point to regulate my emotions. Yes, it means that sometimes I am sad, fearful, or feel down. I’ve found that when I allow myself to engage with those feelings fully, I can move through them and feel exhilarated, excited, and joyful. So these days I choose to live an unbalanced life, a life that is messy, chaotic, creative, inspired, and imperfect.

    It has freed me up to feel the glorious magnificence of my wild heart.

  • What do Gratitude and Self Care Have to do with Grief?

    In the last two weeks I’ve had conversations in both our Dinner Party group and our Meetup group about grief at various stages. As I listened to others experiences of grief I was struck yet again by how taboo talking about it is in our daily life.

    These are some of the things I heard;

    My family or friends wonder why I’m attending a meeting about grief, isn’t that morbid?
    I’m feeling stuck, or unsafe, or I want everything to go back the way it was before.
    My family expects me to be over this by now.
    I’m grieving “wrong.”
    I’m feeling hopeless.

    As we gave space for all of these stories to be voiced, I sensed a shift in the energy of the room. We gave them permission to grieve in their own unique way. Tears flowed, memories were shared, and there was even laughter. Those who may have felt hesitant to attend visibly relaxed.

    The road through grief can seem scary, treacherous, and not worth the effort of even starting on that rocky road, so when you wonder if it’s worth it to go through the pain without any guarantee of a pay off, here are two places you can start: gratitude and self-care.

    Gratitude

    When you don’t feel like you have anything to be grateful for, start with what is right in from of you. Be grateful for good clean water to drink, for the sun shining on you, for the rain, for good food to eat, for a nap, for a smile from a friend, or for a hug. We think gratitude has to be grandiose before we can start to be grateful but instead start where you are. Gratitude can be a game changer.

    Write down three things you are grateful for everyday. It’s important to write them down! At the end of the week, read your list. Your capacity to appreciate even the small things in your life will begin to make a difference in how you see everything in your life. For example, one of my clients was grateful for clean underwear.

    Self-Care

    I talk about self-care, lots. In the early stages of your grief journey, self-care may mean attending to your basic needs like getting enough rest and eating nourishing food. Having the courage to go to a grief group is also self-care. Simple things like that can give you a glimmer of hope, even a willingness to keep going.

    We often don’t feel like we deserve to take care of ourselves, or we believe we are being selfish. That’s why starting with the basics is important. This is true whether you are grieving or just discovering the importance of self-care for the first time. Self-care gives you a greater capacity to cope with your feelings. When you have greater coping skills, your willingness to move through the grief continues to grow.

    Before I continue, consider this. If self-care is a word or concept that makes you cringe because of the way it’s portrayed, or if it triggers an old wound, I give you permission to change it to something that resonates for you. This was the case with one of my clients. Self-care felt more like a block than a benefit. This client changed it to soul-care. Choose a word that works for you.

    Self-care changes and evolves as you do. Revisiting your self-care rituals regularly can help you to fine-tune yours. I take a look at my self-care rituals whenever I start to feel burnt out or stressed. That usually means I’m neglecting what I call non-negotiable self-care rituals. I get busier and I think that skipping yoga class for a couple of weeks won’t hurt, or I think I can eat just a little gluten. I find out why they are non-negotiable. When I’m attending to self-care I have a greater capacity to handle the stress, and when I am getting busy but am doing self-care rituals then I recognize the activities I am participating in that are not serving me.

    I also take a look at my self-care rituals as the seasons change. For me, it’s a good time to see if anything needs to be refined, or added. Here is a blog I wrote about Radical Self-care. (link to blog)

    Discover What Nurtures You

    What are your non-negotiable self-care rituals?
    Make a list of everything that nourishes you; body, mind, and soul.
    How do you like to have fun? Put it on your list even if you haven’t done it but have always wanted to try it.
    What people, places or things inspire you?
    What stirs your soul?
    What adds beauty to your life?
    Continue to add to your list.

    Now I’m going to suggest something that may sound radical to you, schedule your self-care, all of it. Things like massages, haircuts, or acupuncture are scheduled for obvious reasons. I’m suggesting that you schedule an appointment with yourself and give self-care the same worth as you do your massage therapist or the person who cuts your hair. Your list will come in handy when you schedule a self-care break, and don’t know what to do. Look at your list and choose something!

    Here are a few more ideas:

    • Take walk outside.
    • Step outside barefoot and connect with the earth.
    • Have a cup of tea or coffee without looking at your phone.
    • Pick or buy yourself flowers.
    • Do nothing.

      One of my favorite self-care rituals is doing nothing, absolutely nothing. Try it for five minutes and see what you think. When you start to feel guilty for doing nothing remind yourself that it’s five minutes. Everything you need to do will still be there when the time is over, and you may be a little more relaxed.

      Self-care helps you to relax, reduces stress, and develops a greater capacity to feel your feelings. Self-care is the fuel for your tank. When your car has no gas, you can’t go anywhere. The same is true for you. When your energy reserves are depleted, you don’t feel like doing anything. Self-care brings abundance back into your life so you can be your own best self.

  • Should I Put My Grief on A Shelf and Have Some Fun?

    I was asked the other day if I get tired of talking about grief. If I’d rather put down my grief and go do something fun. These are really good questions.

    There was a time that I wanted all of my feelings of grief to go away. I didn’t want to remember that my daughter was dead. I didn’t want to remember the feelings that were unresolved when my mother or father died. I wanted the feelings to go away so I could get on with my life. But how could I really get on with my life when I had so many painful issues, old stories, and constructs that lived in my body as both pain and restriction that kept me immobilized both emotionally and at a deeper physical level? We think that if we muscle through or soldier on all of our unresolved pain will step aside and let the real us through.

    I found out that it is called unresolved for a reason. By finding a way through my difficult feelings, I found out that some of my pain and body and eating issues were connected to my grief. Because I said yes to excavating the life I was meant to live, I discovered my true self, what I call my Nanciness. It meant being scrupulously devoted to following the bread crumbs of my grief journey, what I call today my grief spiral, no matter where it lead me, no matter where it continues to lead me.

    Just what does a grief journey look like almost 17 years in? I no longer feel like I’m actively grieving my daughter’s death. Her death affects me daily, for sure, but now there is a different texture to my days. Yes, there are still days that I feel sad, that I feel the pain of losing her in the car accident, remember those days in the hospital, especially as the milestone days of the anniversary of her death begin to get close. Today I use the resources available to me which brings me to a new level of understanding, or integrates a certain feeling in a new way.

    Grief is a Doorway.

    Grief opened a door to the greatest transformation of my life, and it can for you too. When I was completely broken open and on my knees in my darkest hour, I didn’t realize that my loss provided the perfect condition for new growth; open fertile ground to nurture the seeds of my soul’s purpose. I didn’t see it at first because I was holding on to what I lost, hoping against hope that I could stay the same and that I wouldn’t have to change.

    Grief Changed Me.

    If I had resisted that change I would have been trying to hold on to a life that was no longer the same as the day before her death. The fabric of my life no longer held the same threads, and if I tried to hang on to my former life it would have fallen apart anyway because the old stories would keep wrapping around a structure that was no longer there, it is an illusion that had no substance, no form.

    Today I know that I would not have the capacity to have fun if I had not followed those breadcrumbs almost 17 years ago. Having fun, being connected to my creativity and to the things that make life meaningful for me are the gifts and blessing of my grief spiral. So no, I don’t want to put down my grief so I can have fun. I want to walk my life’s path so I can be connected to what is important for me these days: to my ability to make meaningful connections, and have meaningful conversations, to listen to my body’s wisdom and feed her and move her in a way that truly nourishes her, to share my life with a life partner who has experienced the same loss, to be able to meet each other where we are and still have fun together, to appreciate my sense of humor, to find pleasure in the simple things like bringing in a bunch of zinnias for my office, and gratitude, always gratitude, for everything and everyone who has brought me to this day in my life.

    What are some of the things that make your life worth living these days?