Archive for Grief Support – Page 3

Don’t Pathologize the Anger of Grief: Day 17 of #31DaysWithGrief

Posted by Carla Cheatham on

January 17, 2017

31 Days of Walking with Grief: Others’ and Our Own

Day 17—Don’t Pathologize the Anger of Grief

This is a month-long series to support persons grieving and those who love them. It includes content from “Sharing Our Stories: A Hospice Whispers Grief Support Workbook” available through Amazon and wherever books are sold.

I’ve previously written for my guest blog on Hospice Times a post encouraging professionals not to mistake or write off the anger related to grief as dysfunction.

It can be a lot easier to recognize and respond caringly to grief that involves quiet tears rather than loud rants. As a culture, we’re not comfortable with death and grief, but I would argue that our relationship with anger is even more unhealthy, no matter what the anger’s source. The grief that comes out in anger may not be warm and fuzzy, but it’s no less deserving of support.

Most of us would not fault parents for raging at the injustice of the death of their child. But how many of us could sit in its presence without feeling a little freaked out and, as a result, wanting to find some way to calm that anger down?

Many do not feel comfortable expressing their own grief, much less being around others’. Sometimes, however, in the midst of our grappling with our frustration and helplessness and angst over what seems so unfair or unjust, there is no putting a muzzle on grief. We must find safe spaces and ways to get it out lest it fester inside of us and cause further damage.

Think about how anger was/is handled in your family. Consider how the significant grownups who raised you expressed their anger and responded to others expressions of the emotion. Was it loud and scary, quiet and underground, passive aggressive and harsh, avoidant and rejecting? Of the methods of handling grief that you were raised under, which ones did you adopt? Which one is the hardest for you to be around?

The more we understand our own relationship with and perception of anger, the better we will be able to navigate it when it arises during grief.

It’s an understandable and even adaptive response to anger. Think about it, the energy behind anger can be the only thing getting us up off the couch when the depression of grief wants to permanently imprint our butts there! It can keep us going and moving and push us to find answers and make meaning out of the meaninglessness of loss.

So, if you love or care professionally for those who are grieving, explore your own comfort level with anger. Spend some time reflecting on ways to unhook from getting triggered, taking it personally, and moving into a flight or fight response so that you can comfortably give it safe space to be expressed.

Let only affirmation, normalization, and validation as your response. Those grieving get enough pushback from others and need somebody to finally just GET it and not push back. Saying, “Of COURSE you feel this way” can be one of the greatest gifts you can give. Top it off with, “This sucks” or “No, this doesn’t make sense to me. I wish it did” or “I wish I had answers, and I’m so sorry I don’t.” And always end with, “I’m here with you. You’re not alone.”

If you are grieving any type of loss, take a moment to check in and see if there’s any residual grief you’ve blocked, shut down, or explained away. Look around you for those who can handle sitting with you in it without having a reaction that makes you feel like you have to shut it down to take care of them and their discomfort.

Find persons who will not quietly or openly shame, judge, or dismiss your anger. Like it or not, it’s all part of it and it all deserves space to just be until it passes through in its own time.

Till then:

Breathe.
Remember that this will pass.
Remember the different between venting to and venting at another person.
Exercise to give your body some relief. The science shows that this helps.
Commit to not harming yourself or anyone else as you express your anger.
Let the scribbling of your pencil help you physically and emotionally process your feelings (again, there’s science behind this).
Write letters to the deceased, family members, G-d, the universe, or whomever else you need to tell all about it that you do not intend to send.
Burn these, shred them and cast them out onto moving water, or read them a professional or friend who can caringly listening without interjecting or trying to talk you out of how you feel.
Allow yourself to re-story the event in the way you wish it had ended. Look for your own sense of meaning in the story.
Do whatever you need to do that is safe and feels right.
Don’t forget numbers 1 and 2.

I’ll end here, but the struggle continues, and our need to respond well to anger remains. If you have insights or suggestions around this topic, I would value hearing them. Together, we’ll get even better at showing up for ourselves and each other when grief, understandably, pisses us off and draws our wrath.

Peace,

Carla

Rev. Carla Cheatham, MA, MDiv, PhD, TRT has served hospices as a chaplain and bereavement coordinator. She’s the Section Leader for the Spiritual Caregivers Section of the National Hospice and Palliative Care Organization and an adjunct professor at the Seminary of the Southwest. Through her Carla Cheatham Consulting Group, Carla provides training and consulting for professional caregivers nationwide. She is the author of Hospice Whispers: Stories of Life and its companion volume, Sharing Our Stories: A Hospice Whispers Grief Support Workbook. Her next book, On Showing Up with Suffering: Others’ and Our Own, is set to publish in 2017.

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The Pain of Long and Short Goodbyes: Day 16 of #31DaysWithGrief

Posted by Carla Cheatham on

January 16, 2017

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31 Days of Walking with Grief: Others’ and Our Own

Day 16—The Pain of Long and Short Goodbyes

We who counsel mourners regularly encourage persons to not compare experiences. Doing so can minimize one’s loss as being less significant than another’s, shutting down one’s willingness to grieve openly and receive the support they need and deserve. That serves no one.

This holds true for the varying time-frames over which a loved one dies.

Sudden, unexpected death can rock our world, leaving us feeling stunned in disbelief as we struggle to wrap our heads around what we do not want to accept as true. It reminds us that life can be capricious and that bad things do happen to good people, which can challenge all our existential beliefs and leave us feeling angry and afraid.

Having little to no time to say goodbye can significantly complicate our grief, as well, as the shock can take time to wear off.

The long, slow goodbyes of a protracted illness bring their own heartache and difficulties. Getting the chance to say goodbye is a gift paid for with weeks, months, or even years of watching someone you love suffer and go away bit by bit.

This prompts a series of griefs as we deal with the anticipation of waiting for the other shoe to drop, mourn each new loss, while exhaustedly and guiltily begging the universe to let it all be done.

Which would you choose?

Each person answers differently. It’s always interesting to hear both those who wish for the grass that looks so green on the other side and those who acknowledge how hard their circumstance is/was but accept it because of the gifts they find in their experience:

“I wish we could have said goodbye, but I’m glad he didn’t linger and suffer”.

“It wore us out in so many ways, but I wouldn’t trade a second of the time we had with her.”

Still others grapple with their lot:

“I can’t get over not having a chance to say I love you one more time. It haunts me, still.”

“Watching him suffer day after day was the cruelest thing I could imagine. It haunts me, still.”

We’ve no idea how someone views their situation, so we do not assume and we do not judge. We accept that pain is relative—the worst pain you’ve experienced is the worst pain you’ve experienced. There is no fair way to compare, and why would we? We let them be where they are and grieve exactly as they need.

What challenges did you find in your circumstance? What gifts did you come to see? What, if anything, remains for you to resolve for your own peace and sanity’s sake? What would it look like to be free from the things that hold you back? What would it take to get you there?

Whatever your grief looks like, however you answer these questions, I hope you find deep comfort and on-going support, exactly as you need it, and I truly hope this series is at least a small part of that which helps you.

Peace,

Carla

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“What Better Place?”: Day 15 of #31DaysWithGrief

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January 15, 2017

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31 Days of Walking with Grief: Others’ and Our Own

“What Better Place?”–Excerpt of Questions from Sharing Our Stories

I wrote previously in this series about coping with the hurtful things people say to those grieving. One such common phrase is, “They’re in a better place.”

While we are grateful our loved one is no longer in pain, and may even have a believe in an afterlife, that’s often of little comfort in the moment when we ache to hold them, see their face, hear their voice and laughter, and smell their unique scent just one more time.

No matter how deep our gratitude and faith, our pain is also deep and deserves to be heard, never minimized. The humorous and poignant story, called “What Better Place” from Hospice Whispers: Stories of Life (c)2014, addresses this issue.

As promised, I’m providing free excerpts from Sharing Our Stories: A Hospice Whispers Grief Support Workbook in this series, so I’ve also included the reflection questions from the workbook related to”What Better Place”at the end of the story.

Please feel free to share this with anyone who might be interested in a grief workbook so they can see if Sharing Our Stories is right for them or their group!

Bulk orders (7 copies or more) are eligible for a 25% discount by contacting me through my website.

All you need to do to access your free sample is to follow the link, type in your email address (I’ll never share your info and only send out 1 newsletter a month), and download your free sample of Sharing Our Stories.

I hope you enjoy this story and find it and the Sharing Our Stories reflection questions helpful!

Peace,

Carla

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“No One Ever Says Her Name…”: Day 14 of #31DaysWithGrief

Posted by Carla Cheatham on

January 14, 2017

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31 Days of Walking with Grief: Others’ and Our Own

Day 14—”No One Ever Says Her Name…”

Once while speaking at a conference in California, I met a woman named Dev from an advocacy organization that promotes healthy conversations around end of life care. We spoke about a variety of topics and swapped stories related to the industry and work we both love.

Our talk turned to the ways persons are often left isolated in their grief after the death of a loved one, and the things we encourage others to do, and try to do ourselves, to show up well for them.

I shared about the importance of always asking the name of the deceased by asking, “What IS their name?”.

The temptation is to ask, “What WAS their name?”, but just because the person has died does not mean they’ve lost their name or the essence of who they are to those who love them. They are still very much present in the hearts and minds of those who miss them, so there’s nothing wrong with speaking of them in the present tense.

When I do this, they tear up sweetly and thank me for asking. They smile through the tears as they speak the name of the person who still means so much to them.

My new friend nodded in agreement then told me the story of a woman she heard speak at a conference about the death of her daughter, Katrina. The mom said that as heartbreaking as the tragedy of Hurricane Katrina in 2005 was, part of her was also thrilled to suddenly be hearing her daughter’s name everywhere she turned.

On every television station, in every newspaper, and in every casual conversation, her daughter’s name once again filled her world. “No one ever says her name…”, Dev quoted the mom’s speech.

We stood there quietly as those words sunk in for us both. We’ve heard countless parents and other loved ones say this, but something about the Katrina story helped it resonate on a deeper level.

Dev spoke of the hundreds of times a day she heard her own daughter’s name, “Is Mackenzie awake?” “Kenzie, don’t forget your backpack.” “Kenzie, I’ll pick you up from cheerleading practice at 5.” She spoke of how impossible it would be to get used to her name disappearing from her ears if suddenly it was gone.

Persons fear bringing up painful memories by mentioning someone who has died, though most often the bereaved say NOT hearing about their loved one feels far worse. So, we teach persons to ask, “What is his name?” and, “Would you like to tell me about her?”

Even if they aren’t up for talking about them and say, “No”, the simple gesture of being asked is often touching and healing enough as it openly acknowledges their pain and allows another to share it, if even just for a moment.

I encourage this as practice with those around you: ask their name; ask if they want to tell you about them, what they were like, what they miss most about them. If they aren’t up for it, they’ll tell you, but by simply asking, you may offer a far greater gift than you could ever understand.

If you’re the one grieving, find a way to ask for what you need from persons who’ve earned the right to your precious trust. Say their name, yourself, to model for others that it’s okay to talk about them. Ask questions of others about them.

They may feel a little uncomfortable, at first, but it can quickly become a new normal as you overcome the taboo of speaking of the dead. Allow them to live from your mouth and not just hidden away quietly in your heart. There’s nothing morbid about it, so long as it feels helpful, and not harmful, to you.

Peace to us all as we remember those we love, and share them with others.

Carla

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When Questions Have No Answers: Day 13 of #31DaysWithGrief

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January 13, 2017

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31 Days of Walking with Grief: Others’ and Our Own

Day 13—When Questions Have No Answers

Grief often involves questions. Loss can challenge our foundational beliefs about the way we think the world should be, leaving us looking for something solid on which to stand.

We want things to make sense. When they don’t, we feel out of control, and that triggers our anxiety. We want the world to seem orderly and predictable, once again, so our brains work overtime to try to find meaning in situations that often make no sense.

German philosopher, Friedrich Nietzsche’s, quote, “He who has a why to live for can bear almost any how”, comes to mind. Our brains look for that “why”, even though oftentimes one is not readily available.

Meaning isn’t something anyone else can spoon-feed us. Meaning is something we must find for ourselves, and what works for one may not necessarily work for another.

I spend a great deal of my time teaching professional care providers and even lay people how to be present with the suffering of others without trying to fix it by giving pat answers or trying to impose their meaning onto the other’s crisis.

Those are the cheap seats, far removed from the main actors where we don’t have to actually be touched by their pain. That simply lets us feel good about ourselves for thinking we’ve helped, so we can then move on, un-phased. The hard place to sit is on the front row, up close to the pain and misery where we can feel it, see it, and touch it, which we really don’t want to do.

When others hear the questions of grief, they often feel they must answer them lest they be seen as unwise, weak, or uncaring. This discomfort can lead them to shy away from grief. Anyone who has experienced grief can attest to the feelings of being a pariah as some persons avoid this discomfort.

So I train others to practice sitting in the midst of those questions while noticing their discomfort and avoiding the urge to run away or provide answers, even when persons plead with them to do so. To say, “I don’t know”, in the face of pain can feel unbearable, but it can be the most compassionate thing we can do.

Sometimes, we simply must sit with the discomfort of the unknown while those suffering find their own answers. The meaning we find can mean far more to us than that which is imposed upon us by others.

As desperately as we may want to demand that another tell us how to make sense of our loss, when we are ready, the answers will come. Anything said to us before then will find no solid place on which to land; the words will bring us no solace if we are not ready to accept them.

So we breathe and we sit and we wait, and often must accept that there simply are no answers. Meaning? Yes, we can find such gifts in time, but answers about why those whom we love or those things dear to us go away, often are never to come.

Perhaps the most challenging thing is waiting until we find peace with this absence.

Yours in waiting,

Carla

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Are Questions Counter to Faith?: Day 12 in #31DaysWithGrief

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January 12, 2017

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31 Days of Walking with Grief: Others’ and Our Own

Day 12—Are Questions Counter to Faith?

I can’t even begin to count the number of times I’ve been asked some form of, “Am I a bad (enter faith tradition here) for having questions/doubts/anger about this?” As a pastor of a faith community, I’m allowed to answer this question and others, and am even expected to offer teaching and counsel according to my religion.

As a chaplain or grief counselor, however, the boundaries and expectations are far different as we respect others’ beliefs and values while avoiding the opportunistic promotion of our own. That’s not why we’re there, nor what we’re getting paid to do. We reflect the questions back to the person, normalizing and affirming their feelings, and walk with them as they find their own answers within their own belief and value system.

There’s a subtle risk of assuming that I know the answers to another’s questions, or that what works for me will work for them. To treat others as if I know better than do they how they should direct their life is hubris on my part and disrespects their autonomy and dignity while elevating my own importance. That’s a trap against which I always want to guard.

So often, I’ll answer by saying, “What rings true for you? Do you believe you’re allowed to ask questions/have doubts/feel anger?” What follows is a dialogue during which they speak aloud their thoughts and I reflect back to them what I hear them saying.

Most often, it seems that they don’t really feel guilty or wrong for expressing their struggles, but fear that I will shame or judge them for having them. When I don’t gasp in shock and condemn them, but instead lovingly and gently ask them their thoughts and beliefs, it seems reassuring to them.

When I normalize and affirm their struggles, “Of COURSE you feel that way! Many people in your situation do”, their shoulders sink and their faces relax in relief as they say hopefully, “Really?!?!”

If their theology does NOT allow for these things, they will tell me that, and I follow them through finding peace according to their belief-system, but it’s not exceptionally common for persons to hold a hard and fast belief that G-d will judge them for being honest and real and human.

When I am NOT in the role of chaplain or grief counselor, I have more freedom to speak what I believe. These are a few of my thoughts, and I invite you to take what fits for you and blow off the rest. For those of you who call a higher power or deity by a different name, or who are non-theist, I trust you to adapt this in whatever way works for you. I’d also love to hear all of your views:

G-d gave us our emotions, so why would G-d begrudge our having them, especially in times of grief?
G-d gave us the capacity to love this person in a big way, so how could G-d be mad at us for being angry and grieving in a big way?
My G-d is big enough to handle our honest questions and struggles, and isn’t petty enough to be offended by them.
As a therapist, when a couple told me they weren’t arguing, I knew to worry! Either they weren’t being genuine and honest with each other, or themselves. If they were stuffing their feelings or too insecure in the relationship to argue, it did not bode well for the health of their relationship. Arguing with a loved one can actually be healthy to some degree. Doing so clears the air, helps us understand each other, and even ourselves, better, and strengthens our relationship. I believe our relationship with G-d is no different.
The issue isn’t whether we have questions/doubts/anger but what we do with them.
In the Judeo-Christian scriptures, Jacob wrestled all night on the top of the mountain with G-d (or an angel of G-d, depending on your translation) and refuse to let go until he received a blessing. Afterward, his name was changed to Israel, meaning one who wrestles with G-d, and he was told that through him all nations would be blessed. Wrestling with God was not condemned, it was blessed.
From the Christian New Testament, in I Thessalonians, the Apostle Paul writes, “We would not have you ignorant, brothers and sisters, about those who are asleep, so that you would not grieve as those who have no hope.” (4:13). He did not say, “Don’t grieve”. He assumed that we WOULD grieve, and just encouraged us to have hope when we do.

I once visited with an associate minister of a faith community who spoke with a hardened face and voice, “I haven’t been able to bring myself to go back to services since my son died.”

My immediate response was, “Of COURSE you haven’t!” He looked at me, stunned, and said, “What?!”

“I can’t imagine the triggers and memories, the expectations of you when you’re there, the dozens of people who want to come comfort you and swamp you with love and even well-intended but not helpful cliches and phrases, let alone any questions or anger or doubts you may be grappling with. Many people would be struggling to still be on speaking terms with G-d after the death of their child. I don’t know your reasons, but whatever they are, they wouldn’t surprise me.”

His whole countenance relaxed as he said with a sigh of relief, “You’re the first person I’ve met who hasn’t wanted to fix me. Thank you!”

It was as if, suddenly, without someone pushing back against or judging his grief and anger and pain, it could relax and finally move. He told me later what a tremendous difference it made for him. And he eventually got back on speaking terms with G-d…but not because someone scolded or judged or shamed him into it. He needed time to heal in all respects. His spiritual healing was no different.

I don’t know your story, your beliefs, or your thoughts on this. Whatever they are, please hear someone affirm them, and you, and state clearly that you get to find your way in your time with your own answers, and it is all good.

Peace,

Carla

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The Beauty of Not Forcing Acceptance: Day 11 of #31DaysWithGrief

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January 11, 2017

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31 Days of Walking with Grief: Others’ and Our Own

Day 11—The Beauty of Not Forcing Acceptance

In my early career in social services, I worked at treatment centers and learned a great deal. One concept practiced in recovery traditions is called “The 3 A’s—Awareness, Acceptance, and Action”. It can be easily applied by anyone, whether they are in recovery or simply trying to live as a sane and healthy grownup!

The idea is that when we have some new Awareness about ourselves or a situation, the next step is to sit with it until we reach a state of Acceptance of it, as well. Then, and only then, do we move to take some sort of Action.

The goal is to avoid shame or acting compulsively without taking time for calm thought or to seek guidance outside of ourselves through dialogue and even prayer. It can also slow us down to prevent us from being controlling or judgmental in our approach toward the situation.

Another gift of this process is that it can prevent us from skipping over our emotions. Far too often, when I’ve gained some new awareness about a situation in my life or reached a new level of grief, I’ve wanted jump straight to action and be the evolved guru floating on top of the mountain in full acceptance of my feelings and the circumstances involved, but without having to actually FEEL the feelings.

But trying to be healthy, mature, and too quickly “over it” can actually be unhealthy if we jump over the acceptance stage in order to avoid our feelings of grief, anger, sadness, fear, etc. and try to move straight to action.

Far too many times, I thought I had grieved something or someone, when I had actually just done so as an intellectual exercise and had failed to feel my feelings. How can we truly grieve what we have not allowed ourselves to feel? There is no shortcut.

Often, what is actually needed after we become aware of grief, is to sit with that awareness and with our emotions about it for a period of time until we come into true acceptance of the reality of the situation and of our own emotions.

I’ve learned with practice to become increasingly comfortable sitting with discomfort, mine as well as others’. Each time I sit with my emotions, I gain the experience that I WILL come out of the other side of them, that they will not carry me down into a cavern from which I’ll never re-emerge, that they WILL end at some point, and that great gifts will come (for me) when I take the time and space to be with my feelings.

Like any other muscle or skill, it gets stronger and better the more I use or practice it.

It’s not easy. It’s not fun. I never WANT to do it. But every emotional mile I run makes the next workout that much easier and less intimidating.

Besides, it’s the healthy thing to do for myself and the only way I truly find freedom on the other side of grief. And that is always worth the price of admission.

Peace,
Carla

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Tags : #31DaysWithGrief, bereavement, caregiver support, carla cheatham, counsel, Death of a loved one, end of life, grief, grief counsel, Grief Support, Grief Workbook, Hospice, hospice whispers, Loss of a loved one, palliative care, series, sharing our stories, support, trauma and grief

Denial’s Been Given a Bum Rap: Day 10 of #31DaysWithGrief

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January 10, 2017

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31 Days of Walking with Grief: Others’ and Our Own

Day 10—Denial’s Been Given a Bum Rap

“Denial ain’t a river in Egypt!”

“Oh, he’s just in denial…”

“She doesn’t want to hear it. She’s still in denial.”

We often hear denial, and the persons exhibiting it, spoken of in pejorative terms. But denial has been given a bum rap.

As I’ve stated earlier in this series, we sometimes need the emotional airbags of our defense-mechanisms to soften the blow until we’re ready to face the full impact. Therapists are taught not to push persons further than they ready to go; you don’t open a can of worms they don’t have the emotional resources to manage.

Certainly, there are times when our defenses become maladaptive and no longer serve us; anything taken to an extreme can have an adverse effect. In those times, more assertive interventions may be needed. Again, complicated grief and grief vs. depression will be discussed later in this series.

Far too often we speak of denial as if it makes a person weak or immature. That only brings up more defenses and adds shame on top of grief, which is not fair or productive. We must find another way.

In Hospice Whispers: Stories of Life, I wrote a story called “Waking Up”, that described a wife who was not yet ready to accept that her spouse was dying, so she kept shaking him when he stopped breathing:

“He had been home barely more than 12 hours. He was ready. She was not. She was leaning over the bed curiously watching his breathing. She looked over at me questioningly when I walked back in. I just breathed and stood at the foot of the bed and waited to see what she was ready to handle…

We were new to each other and I wanted to tread lightly to give her the space she needed to come to terms with what her eyes said on some level she recognized, but they also pleaded for more time to live in the fantasy and not ‘know’ what was happening.”

I’m grateful for the training that allowed me and my team to sit with patience and compassion through a challenging situation rather than rush this woman too quickly through her denial. For the sake of her spouse’s comfort, we did gently nudge her in that direction. Ultimately, however, we let her come to terms with it in her own way as his death naturally unfolded. With support, she got there.

If we cast judgment on denial, we’ll likely rush them faster than they are prepared to go. They’ll also sense the judgment and be even further weighed down by shame or resentment.

Find persons who will give you safe space for you to be exactly as you are, where you are, and to find your way in your own time and your own way. Do not let others rush you. Do not let others lead you to feel shame or guilt. Unless what you’re doing is hurting yourself or others, take your time and do what you need.

You deserve it. Your process depends on it. When you’re ready, you’ll get there. Until then, be where you are. You’re journey will unfold naturally. As it does, you’re not alone.

Peace,

Carla

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Coping with the Hurtful Things People Say: Day 9 of #31DaysWithGrief

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January 9, 2017

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31 Days of Walking with Grief: Others’ and Our Own

Day 9—The Well-Intentioned But Hurtful Things People Say

In a series of 7 posts I’ve written, called “BE-ing With Suffering” posted through HospiceTimes.com, I discussed the well-intentioned but hurtful things people can say to those grieving. It was written to help both professional care providers and friends and loved ones know how to show up well for those who are hurting. (It’s a condensed version of my next book due out later this year on The Art of Showing Up.)

As part of that series, I listed things to and not to say to persons in the midst of grief. Any time I speak to groups, this particular topic always has a LOT of energy behind it! Many have been wounded by people who don’t know what to say, so they panic and revert to the clichés, advice-giving, and theologizing they’ve heard their grandparents and parents say:

“Well, at least you had him for 87 years.”

“She’s in a better place.”

“You have to be strong.”

“Everything happens for a reason.”

“You have to focus on the positive.”

And so much more.

They may also tell us their own story, when we barely have the energy to handle our own. It’s as if they see someone playing in the grief sandbox and go get their own shovel and pail to join in, needing space to process their own grief. They don’t realize the boundaries of when it is and isn’t appropriate to do this. They may think of it as commiserating and making a connection to comfort the person, but it often just overwhelms them, instead.

So how do we take care of ourselves, protect ourselves from such well-meaning but crappy phrases and stories? We may understand that they’re just trying to be helpful, though their words are misguided.

We can presume good will on their part, not taking it personally since their words are more about their discomfort and lack of understanding rather than any intention to hurt us. We may be able to blow it off and move on, especially if we’re rarely going to see them.

Other times, the words may cut too deeply or may come too frequently from someone whom we see often to just let them go, and we find we must speak up and set boundaries for our own sanity’s sake. Not everyone is comfortable with assertiveness and confrontation and, when we’re emotionally and mentally worn down by grief, it can be even harder.

It can be as simple as saying:

“I appreciate that you want to help. Words that say this was a good thing actually leave me feeling worse. Could you please just tell me you love me?”

“I appreciate your trying to connect with me. I barely have the energy to live with my own story, and I don’t have room to hear anyone else’s right now. Would you just tell me about the best movie you’ve seen lately, please?”

“I’m betting when you say that, you’re trying to make me feel better. Saying anything that begins with, ‘Well, at least…’ feels minimizing of my pain. Please just tell me you’re sorry this hurts.”

Find the words that work for you. Say what needs to be said with an eye toward helping them show up for you in a better way. Remember, most often, you want to keep these friendships and, though your anger and frustration are justified, it may feel heightened by your grief and a disproportionate response is not fair to take out on others.

Those who care about you will either be able to hear your boundaries and requests for what you do need, or they won’t. You get to decide who feels good for you to be around during this time and who does not. Be kind, but also be kind to yourself by taking good and protective care of your tender heart. You deserve it!

Peace,
Carla

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The Necessity of Exquisite Self-Care: Day 8 of #31DaysWithGrief

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January 8, 2017

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31 Days of Walking with Grief: Others’ and Our Own

Day 8—The Necessity of Exquisite Self-Care

I speak a great deal about exquisite self-care to prevent compassion fatigue, but never is it more necessary than when we’re grieving. When we’re hurting, the time and energy it takes to nurture ourselves can seem impossible as we’re already having trouble mustering what’s needed to brush our teeth or remember, “Did I already shampoo my hair?”, while we stand dripping in the shower.

We can also feel selfish taking the time away to care for ourselves when others are clamoring for our attention. They may even be invested in our guilt keeping us jumping through their hoops rather than tending to our own.

Selfishness says, “I’ll care for me at your expense.” Self-care says, “I’ll care for me so I can bring my best self to you.” Exquisite self-care isn’t a luxury; it’s our greatest responsibility.

This is me in my hammock next to my favorite waterfall on my favorite hiking trail. Practicing what I teach isn’t always easy. But I’m grateful that saying these things out loud to others helps hold me accountable for actually doing them, myself! If I don’t make space for down time and silence, I quickly become a crispy critter not fit for human consumption.

When I begin to get sucked into the crazy idea that I can’t afford to take time off, I’m reminded that I can’t afford to NOT take good care of myself if I want to be of any use to anyone in my personal or professional life.

When grief consumes us, it can be even harder, but we MUST do good self-care in order for our hearts to fully heal.

I wrote yesterday about the ways we can isolate and avoid, well, life and the pain that can come with it when we’re grieving. Isolating doesn’t always look like staying under the covers and letting all calls go to voicemail.

Sometimes we run from our feelings by being overly busy, using time-fillers to numb and block our grief just as assuredly as if we’re mis-using alcohol, nicotine, or Ben and Jerry’s to get an endorphin rush and feel better. I’ve watched numerous persons throw themselves into the process of settling estates and divvying up belongings or working longer hours as a way to avoid grief.

The frustrating reality is that, once we finally slow down because the tasks run out or we hit a wall and can’t keep going, grief is still sitting there waiting for us.

So run a bubble bath and put on repeat the song that you know will help you cry.

Find a yoga class geared specifically toward those who are grieving (yep, those exist!)

Pull out his biggest and comfiest sweatshirt that still smells like him and snuggle up in it.

Pay for the professionals racecar experience and push the pedal down for the catharsis of the (safely experienced) speed.

Grab the dog or cat or iguana and cuddle up.

Walk that trail you’ve not been on in forever and smell the dirt and leaves and different air and feel the sun.

Crank up volume or find an empty field and scream your head off til you can’t anymore.

Sit under your favorite tree with empty pages and let it all come pouring out.

Get the full facial-mani-pedi—even you guys. Trust me! One 83 year old man in a group came back and showed off his purple-painted toenails and raved about the whole experience saying “Ladies, you’ve been holding out on us!! That was just wonderful to have someone pay that kind of attention to me. I haven’t been treated like that since I was a baby, and it felt good!”

Get a massage from a therapist who is comfortable with your crying the whole time.

Recruit the person who will sit with you in the theater and not be bothered by the same.

Stay in your jammies all weekend and binge-watch whatever you want.

Take yourself to a restaurant known for fabulous service and linger for hours over a meal. Tell the staff you’ll pay rent on the table (count the number of groups that come and go around you and multiply the tip by that number to compensate for holding that space) and enjoy being waited on and fed and watched over and tended to.

It doesn’t have to be extravagant. I love horses. The smell of leather and hay, the feel of the soft muzzle and powerful muscles, and the creak of the saddle and gentle snorts and whuffles can instantly calm me. I can drive out to the country, pull over, and spend a few moments stroking the forehead of a curious critter jutting over the fence at a nearby farm just to soak up a bit of that energy.

Simple things like lavender, hot cocoa, soft fabrics, weighted blankets, whatever works for you make time, take time, and surround yourself with the best care you can in terms of movement, hydration, nutrition, smells, sights, sounds, and textures–whatever else is good for your soul is fine. But do it. The hard edges of grief deserve gentle space to move and breathe. Give yourself that.

Peace,
Carla

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