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Category: Transformation

  • 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.

  • 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.

  • 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!

  • Lessons from 2017

    As this year winds to a close, I’d like to share with you what I’ve been reflecting on for the last few weeks. At this time last year I was preparing for my book to be published and starting to think about how I was going to market it. When I revisited my musings from the end of last year, I made the intention to be more present in 2017. I knew presence would be especially important as I moved from writing my book to sharing it with the world. I was in the middle of a year of embodiment work that was clearing out remnants of old wounds and making space for me to hold my story in my body so I could speak it. I knew that I would be taken outside of my comfort zone, as my vulnerability was visible for all to see; those who read my book and those who heard my story. At the beginning of the year I still identified myself as a stutterer and I didn’t identify myself as an author.

    Through the year I listened to my own voice like never before and I found my voice; the voice I use to communicate my work. I get chills and tears as I write those words. These are just some of the things that happened this year.

    I did over 10 book events and practiced many hours for each one.
    I joined Video Mojo Toastmasters thus becoming more comfortable speaking in front of a camera.
    I took part in a workshop to develop my signature presentation.
    I began working with a voice coach and focused on bringing even more vulnerability to my signature presentation.
    I held several Samyama Circles and a Holiday Grief Workshop.

    I now identify myself as an author and when I speak from my heart, I speak fluently.

    All of these things came from presence and intentional deep listening,

    from my inner knowing based upon sacred questions I asked myself. Each of the things I listed above are all things I previously resisted or refused to do earlier in my life. As the capacity in my body expanded, as I released old stuff, my own yearnings were allowed to be there. For some reason, maybe because I had released the wounds that made me resistant in the first place, as each one of these things arrived in my life I welcomed them with an open heart. That doesn’t mean there wasn’t still some apprehension, there was, and because they all arose from my intentional inquiry, I trusted that each one was the right step at the right time. My accomplishments this year far exceeded what I wrote down in my journal that I hoped to accomplish.

    It feels like another experience of alchemy; entering this year with an open heart,

    willing to do whatever I was moved to do from my inner guidance, and receiving so much more because I trusted the process. I never expected to ever get comfortable talking, let alone talking about the most vulnerable experiences of my life. As I entered the darkness of the solstice, I continued reflecting on where I have been and asked for guidance for where I am going next year, and what my focus will be.

    What I know for sure right now is that I will complete my new signature presentation. After I returned from my books tour in Chicago, I was moved to bring more of my own story into my presentations. A part of my story that is even more vulnerable because it brings up some unpleasant memories from my childhood. It’s important because without those experiences, I would not be able to bring my work into the world in the way I’m being called to do so.

    I’ll also be planning and offering some exciting new programs and workshops in 2018. These came from a compilation of all of the lessons and experiences that I learned this year.

    I continue to be grateful and astounded that I can participate fully in my life, holding so much joy in one hand, and an equal amount of sadness in my other hand. That may be the most profound lesson of 2017. I can be joyful and sad at the same time and neither one takes away from the other. They are both valid feelings and can coexist.

    I invite you to reflect on the lessons that are yours this year.

    Is what are you pushing away exactly what you need to invite into your life to grow? What needs to be released to make room for something else?
    Welcome everything and see what happens.

  • 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?

     

  • A Good Death

    Last week at the Raleigh Death Café  a participant’s question about what constitutes a good death prompted much discussion.

    As I listened to the interesting conversation I flashed back almost 17 years to Leah’s hospital room.

    I remembered holding on to every thread of hope as we conferred with her doctors.

    I remembered Dan helping the scared sparrow fly free in the parking garage stairway.

    I remembered holding Leah’s hand and stroking her cheek, telling her that she too could fly free if that is what she needed to do.

    I remembered inviting her friends and our friends, who had been camped out in the waiting room with us for five days, to say good-bye to her when we knew she would not be returning to us physically.

    All of these memories were in my head, swirling around; I brought them to my heart.

    In that moment, sitting in the midst of a discussion about what constitutes a good death, I knew.

    Leah’s death was a good death.

    My head wanted to slice and dice the discussion and make an argument against the possibility of a good death, but my heart knew in an instant. I took a deep breath and let the knowledge of Leah’s death as a good death take up some space. I spoke it out loud, in that moment, without thinking about it. It felt like a new level of peace. I let the tears come and felt myself witnessed in this new awareness. The moment passed and the discussion moved on.

    As I reflected on this moment in the days since it happened I realized that I was not capable of considering that hers was a good death at the time of her death. I was many chapters of my story away from even knowing the concept of a good death as it referred to my daughter. Nothing about her death was good, at least at the time. As I began my grief journey I excavated the gifts of that journey and yet, I still had not contemplated a good death.

    If you were to ask me what a good death is, I’m not sure I could give you a finite answer. Before that discussion last week, it never even occurred to me to consider a good death for anyone I knew.

    I’d like to think that it came into my consciousness at precisely the right time.

    If I did come across the concept of a good death earlier, maybe I wasn’t able to really hear it.

    If a good death feels like an unspeakable concept for you, trust where you are right now. If it intrigues you, bring your feelings to your heart and allow them to rest there. All of our perceptions about what death is and isn’t hold a mystery that cannot be understood by all of the analysis of our heads.

    Our hearts can understand what our heads want to hold on to for dear life. Bring everything to your heart and breathe.

  • A Dream About Leah

    I had a dream about Leah last night. It’s been a while since that has happened. In the dream, I knew at some level that she was no longer with me in physical form, so it gave me great comfort to be with her in the dream. She was slightly older than when she left and was wearing clothes that I didn’t recognize. Anyone who knew Leah knows that she was very fashion conscious and wore her clothes like no one else could. Our communication was not by words, but rather, by thoughts. I asked her who was buying her clothes now that I wasn’t. She pointed to herself. I asked her if she’d like to go shopping with me, if she needed new clothes for school. She smiled and said yes. I sat from afar and watched her for a while. There was a sense that she was reaching out through the dimensions to me and I savored the time.

    When I woke up, I sat on the porch with my coffee thinking about the dream. This one had the quality of a connection with her. She connected with a known shared activity, clothes and shopping. Her presence had the characteristic of an alternate reality, things not quite the way they were when she was here physically. I know this is the very description of dreams, and yet, there was a knowingness that we were both visiting a place where we could relate at least in that moment. Plus, she gave me a smile, her smile, one that lit up her whole face. My memory of that smile does not do it justice, I could not have imagined her smile in the way I experienced it in our dream.

    As I continued to be with the dream, I allowed myself to miss her, and I wondered what my life would have been like if she was still here, if she didn’t die 16+ years ago. If, instead of mourning her loss, I would have been celebrating her life all these years. I wondered where she would be living, where we would be living, and how the four of us would be different then we are today.

    I was wistful. I missed her. I allowed myself to feel the longing in my heart for my daughter, for what might have been but she’s still not here. That’s the part my head can’t wrap itself around; she’s still not here. No amount of wishing her back will change that.

    I look at my life now, and I know that I am living the life I was meant to live, honoring the message I received right after she died, that said, “Losing her is too high a price to pay to not live the life you were meant to live.” Getting here was not easy, staying here is sometimes still not easy, and yet, here I am and there she is.

    I’m grateful for the times we can connect in that liminal space that l don’t fully understand. It’s another part of the unknown that unfolds as I travel the spiral of my grief initiation. Bringing all of the journey to my heart, to hold, to allow, to be with whatever shows up along the way. It’s in my heart that the alchemy happens, the place where I receive blessings and grace that allow me to continue to live on the other side of the veil from my daughter; blessings and grace that give me the courage to bring her light into the world through my story. I continue to bow the to the mystery.

  • Relaxing Into Myself

    When the dust settled after my book launch party I wondered, “

    Okay. What now?

    What do authors do once the editing, publishing, and launching are done?” The answer came soon enough; market the book. I began the process of writing to venues to request book events and speaking engagements, shifted my networking message, and changed my mindset from being a forthcoming author to being a published author. I took my time with this process. That is to say, I paid attention to my own self-care and nourishment. I feel different now. I carry my work differently, and I need to continue to cultivate my own rhythm as I refine the way I bring my work into the world. I need to nurture my body and my self as a strong container and vessel to hold this work as I continue forward. As I sat with this process the words that I heard were: I am relaxing into myself. That’s not what I expected to hear.

    I wondered, what does it mean to relax into myself?

    At first I wasn’t sure, and, as I have continued my practice of loving self-care, it’s become more apparent.

    A lifelong friend recently told me I was a different Nancy. That means she knew me back before Leah died. How was I different then? Did she mean that I was a carefree Nancy who skipped through life with utter joy, only to be brought to my knees after my daughter’s death? No, I was a very quiet and, some would say, shy child and teenager, and this introspection continued into adulthood. The last thing a younger version of myself would be doing is sharing my story with others, no matter what the story. The initiation of my daughter’s death changed me and the process of writing my book changed me yet again. I now feel most like myself when I am sharing how I learned to thrive after Leah died, and the ways that I did that.

    There was a thread that ran throughout my life beginning as a child. I often heard,

    “Someday you will do something important.”

    When I heard it as a child, sometimes I was excited and I would dream of what the important thing would be. Sometimes I was confused because I didn’t know how to find out what the important thing would be. I always felt different, isolated, because I felt like I was doing something wrong, that I would never discover my destiny. This probably contributed to my introspective nature. Whenever I heard that I would someday do something important, it was like jumping to the last chapter in a book without all the background information provided in the chapters leading up to it.

    As I sit here today, those chapters have been filled in. My important work is nothing like I imagined as a child, dreaming of magnificence. I could never quite capture the full vision of what that significant work would be, nothing ever felt like it fit, and I wasn’t inspired by any of the daydreams of importance.

    This gives me a new appreciation of the present moment. My entire journey has included a continued nuance of presence. When I was dreaming of a future of greatness, I was missing what was right in front of me, the treasures that are found in this very moment.

    What does this have to do with relaxing into myself?

    And just how did I go about this process? One of the things I did was to listen deeply to what my body needed in each moment. I made lists of these needs, both physical and emotional. I looked at the pattern of my days and shifted them until I found a rhythm to my days that fit where I am right now. I continue to pay attention to how I feel as I go through my days and when something feels off I inquire inside and readjust. Relaxing into myself is dynamic; it can change from day to day or week-to-week depending on my schedule, my energy level, and so many other factors. That’s why it’s important to stay present and continue to listen to deep inner wisdom.

    Here are some ways you can cultivate your own rhythm.

    Slow Down.

    Slow down with everything. When you slow down you can hear your inner wisdom. I’ve also found that on those days when I have a lot of things to accomplish, slowing down helps me to get more done in a more relaxed way. You read correctly, slowing down gets more done.

    Look at your daily schedule.

    Are you doing some things the same way everyday for no reason? Is there another activity that you want to add to your schedule and you don’t know how to find extra time? Sometimes simple changes to the template or pattern of your day can open up or shift your schedule enough to find extra time. One thing I did was get up 15 minutes earlier and shower first thing. This opened up time for me to write everyday. Something I wanted to do more consistently; but didn’t until I shifted my schedule.

    Include Self-Care.

    Look at your self-care rituals. Do they reduce stress or make you feel more stressed? Eliminate anything that induces stress. Add new activities that inspire you. Find some time for self-care everyday.

    Move.

    This is a part of self-care for me and it deserves a separate mention. Movement changes everything. When I don’t want to move, I do the “I don’t want to move dance.” Letting my feelings and emotions have a voice, no matter what they are has been one of the most important factors in cultivating a rhythm that works for me right now.

    Eat Food that Nourishes You.

    There are a lot of ideas out there about what food we should eat. Find out what food nourishes and nurtures YOUR body. Yes, there are general guidelines about quality and nutrition, and no one way of eating works for every body. I know what my body needs, and I have often abandoned myself with excuses that sabotage me. This reminds me of a question I was asked recently, “What does being an Eating Psychology Coach have to do with grief?” My answer to this is another blog topic.

    Be Gentle with Yourself.

    What would you say to a friend who came to talk to you about a problem or concern? Treat yourself the way you would treat a beloved friend. Learning compassion for myself and my journey was the first step for me to learn to love myself as I am in each present moment.