31 Days of Walking with Grief: Others’ and Our Own
Day 8—The Necessity of Exquisite Self-Care
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 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
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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