My brother gifted me a selection of songs including one called “Fetch the Bolt Cutters”. I thought it was an odd choice, but then listening to it, I found myself singing it aloud in a rather heart wrenching way that felt like a much needed release. It had touched yet one more layer of unaddressed grief. The song has a direct connection to the “fight or flight” stress response.
Now in my seventh month of grief, I find myself exhausted by the emotional roller coaster of loss and feel a strong urge to run away. This urge has manifested itself in a need to move from the familiarity of my home. It might feel better to distance myself from the endless subtle reminders surrounding me; the position of a chair at the breakfast table, his tea mug, the empty towel rack in the bathroom. There is confusion between wanting to be suspended in time with these surroundings or wanting to run away from it all and start again. The reality is that you can run away from the physical form of objects but there is no running away from the heart.
So where do you find relief?
Maybe repositioning some things at home in an appealing way instead of discarding them could be helpful. It might be too early to pack up and move to a new home, and the process itself would require sorting through possessions (ugh)! In creating Grief workshops with Dr. Mulloy, she reminds me that it is advisable to wait one year before making big changes because this journey holds a high level of transformation and you may want to wait and see who you are after one year of grieving. This new version of yourself may have a different view of where to go next. OMG! She’s suggesting that I sit with this experience instead of running away!
But what about the "bolt cutter" idea?
Possibly the fight or flight plan was based on running away from my emotions more than running away from my home. And we all know from the studies of yoga, meditation and just plain life, that our real home is in our heart, and the path to soothing the heart is to be present with it in patience, love, and compassion. So perhaps for now I'll just start to rearrange the physical placement of things in my home, lovingly treating each change with respect to my loved one. And oh, yes...I could slow down, be mindful of my delicate heart, and walk, don’t run.
What do you think? Sound like a good subject for journaling? Or maybe it's just time to re-decorate!
The definition of sick is actually “feeling nauseous and wanting to vomit”
This week I was sick with a stomach flu. In these days of COVID we forget that we can still come down with a common flu. This brings up so much for me, literally! First you feel a quiver, a sensation that lets you know you are no longer in charge. And then, well, you know what happens next! My first “go to” was a bit of panic as I am not accustomed to living alone and I started to have a small asthma attack in the middle of everything! In the heat of my over dramatized reaction to the situation, I unlocked the front door in case I needed to call 911 (wouldn’t want them to crush the front door as I was gasping for my last breath!). Seriously, I did that. Then I laid awake all night, between episodes, thinking I had to be on watch as no one else was there to do it. Now, I understand that a lot of people live on their own and this is just the way it is. But it’s not something that I am familiar with and certainly brings attention to the loss of my loved one, my true caretaker. He would have been right there watching and offering help; making soup the next day. Yes, I was a lucky woman. I still have a lot of good fortune in my life however a beautiful nugget of fortune is truly gone. The illness has now upheaved and moved on, and I realize that I have crossed yet another hurdle and it seems I am still alive.
I was considering keeping a commitment that I had made (as I had received a negative COVID test) when a friend reminded me that I needed to take care of myself. That my immune system was depleted, and I needed to stay home for a few days to recover. In my last career, I had 7 years of perfect attendance, so self-care and recovery were not usually considered. Now I’m realizing it is not just “what I can do” as much as “what I should do”. These decisions should be supportive of my wellbeing as well as others.
So, it did turn out that friends and family brought me soup and medicine, checked on me regularly and gave me advice. And even though these efforts were not exactly the same as my partner would have offered, they were golden nuggets of their own. I was not alone. If I had asked any of them to come in the middle of the night, they would have.
If you don’t currently have a support circle of friends, then maybe it’s time to get one started. This outer circle of support will need a good foundation of your own self-care. If we can just see ourselves through our loved one’s caring eyes and connect with that inner love of our own, I think we’ll be ok.
In the book Radical Acceptance by Tara Brach, she quotes Krishnamurti “to pay attention means we care, which means we really love.”
I told my loved one that I loved him every single day, but now I’m feeling that I didn’t give him enough attention. Did I listen to every word of his stories; did I smile or look bored; did I go outside often enough to see the beautiful work he had done on the garden?
I was often so busy that I failed to stop and appreciate him and the lovely life that we shared.
The quote continues “By paying attention we let ourselves be touched by life, and our hearts become more open and engaged.” Of course! Why has it taken most of my life and the loss of my partner to absorb this lesson? Now my regret turns to disappointment in myself. So here we have yet another emotion added to the heap! How do I turn this realization into a forward progression rather than falling into the rabbit hole of regret?
Everyone wants to be seen and appreciated. I believe that this concept alone could soothe and heal most relationship issues. The most impactful people in my life were those who held a stillness in their gaze upon me. This stillness created an open channel for love and appreciation.
In our teacher training program, we have a session of acknowledgement called “Just like me” and in this session we sit for a moment with each co-student as the teacher reads a few lines starting with “just like me”. The final line reads “just like me this person in simply learning about life”.
In grief counseling you are told that the amount of time to process grief varies from person to person. Likewise, there is no time limit to learning about life. In fact, just accept that you are NOT going to get everything this time around, in this short life existence of ours.
Our whole existence revolves around learning about life. This life is our school, our university.
You don’t go to school because you already know everything, you go to learn, to expand your knowledge of this amazing universe.
The pain that surrounds the loss of a loved one is massive, yet within that experience exists a multitude of hurdles (big and small) that can progress us forward or push us back. With each hurdle we reach a new level of understanding ourselves and others. Can I be as accepting of the emotions that move me forward as well as those that push me back? Can I give myself time to level out this "sea" of knowledge in hopes of finding calm, soothing waters?
Do you have any regrets? Maybe you want to spend time with those thoughts and reveal the underlying grace that each of them holds.
"In difficult times we need to change the rules. And in difficult times, we need to make exceptions to the rules."
This statement was made at a time in India when tradition did not allow women to be taught yoga and chanting. Krishnamacharya saw that the men were pre-ocupied and losing interest in these ancient studies and that it would be necessary to include the women to carry on the teachings. Now, we may not like the sound of that tradition excluding women, however, the important note here is that he broke an ancient rule in order to respond to the current situation. We hold on to traditions as well, especially around holidays and dates that hold significance for us. Actually, we carry on traditions constantly in our everyday lives. And even when we experience a drastic change like losing a loved one, we still try to carry on with our "self anointed" responsibilities. Obviously the basic responsibilities of self care and taking care of our families cannot be ignored, but, sometimes we can reach out and ask someone to help us. I say "self anointed" because I have found that certain duties (like hosting a specific dinner and making a specific menu) were really more important to me than the people attending the event. In reality, I found that the family members were actually ok letting go of the drawn out dinner experience and might have more fun just hanging out. At work, I was under the impression that "only I" could handle certain jobs, when actually letting go of those responsibilities allowed someone else to step forward. Not only does this allow for that someone to help out, but, it also gives them a chance to shine. Win, win. The truth is that your friends, family and co-workers feel really good when they can help someone who is grieving. The only requirement of you is to communicate what you need. I created an ingenious response to the question "how can I help?". I respond "there's nothing that can be done". Now, this is true in regards to the inner process that needs to happen in grieving, but, maybe there is something that can be done. Maybe I could say that I would love to go walking or bike riding on a regular basis and would love for someone to encourage me to do so by meeting up at certain times. Yeah, that would be nice! Think about what would be nice for you and let someone know. The loss of my loved one has truly left a big hole in my heart, yet, little by little, love can fill in around that sweet space held just for him.
Moving ahead in 2021, I choose to graciously accept help that meets my needs. I'll honor my ability to change the rules that need to be changed, and keep an open mind to experience life in a new way. How about you? What do you choose?
OK, if we are talking about a journey, Thanksgiving was one of those travel moments when you decided to drive your rental car on a narrow mountainside dirt road and find that the road is full of potholes and you are not sure where you are or if you can turn around. I have to admit I've been in this mountain road situation a handful of times for some reason. There is an undertow of panic and a knowing that you have put yourself into an experience that you may not be able to handle. The only difference between this and the feelings of "the 1st holiday after loss experience" is that the dirt road experience was full of stress, but wasn't infused with a high level of sadness. So the holiday is a double whammy! There aren't any big warning signs like "slow down" or "enter at your own risk" on this grief journey. Even though you know that some things will be uncomfortable, the degree of discomfort is hard to calculate. There is a certain fog that can surround even the most tried and true happy events. Most likely, you find yourself unable to cheer up and enjoy what you would have enjoyed before. Surely this will be a temporary infliction.
Bhante Sujatha says "Bad days bring experience. Both are important. Enjoy the good days, appreciate the bad ones, and keep the courage it takes to live fully."
Courage has always come naturally to me, so I am surprised that it seems so elusive right now. Courage is in my true nature and I know through yoga that it is a constant light within me and my task now is to sit still and reconnect with it. The glow of the inner light is steady, only its surroundings take on different hues. The journey continues as I recognize which locations or settings help me to connect inwardly. It's good to encourage that inner quest by placing ourselves in places that support calm reflection. For me, in Florida, it's the beach. What is it for you? A beautiful sunset is always good. Maybe it's time to set responsibilities aside, relocate to that special place, and have a cup of tea with your inner brilliance.
Is this the journey I signed up for? Is this really my path? I expected something different. Not that I thought everything would be perfect in any way. I just wasn't prepared for this level of heartbreak. Because no matter how many deaths have happened in your circle, you don't actually understand the depths of grief until it happens directly to you (a child, parent, loved one). I've been studying and teaching yoga for 30 years, which is a drop in a bucket when you begin to understand the vast levels of these philosophies. I thought I had a handle on concepts like the witness mind, the universal connection, and compassion. And, yes, the knowledge I have attained has made this grief journey less perilous, however, my mind is blown by the bandwidth of grief and how it takes you beyond all expectations. I've found that something else happens. As painful as the heartbreak of losing a loved one is, it opens the barn doors of the heart to reveal an awareness of what life really is. It's as if I was just reading the cliff notes prior to this loss. Realizing that there could be a tendency to shut down around the heart in a protective way, the opposite can also start to happen. Actually, I think that the opening of the heart may happen on some level for everyone, but it seems easier to turn away from it than to comprehend it. Some days I allow the compassion to wash over me and other days, I shut down. At some point I hope to find a balance in between.
I believe that any way you look at it, when that balance point is found, it will support me in leading a rich life with a new understanding of love. But, you see, I have just hopped on this train and the journey ahead is extensive. There is a lot to learn and that's ok. A break is often the beginning of growth like the shell of a seed cracking to make way for the young seedling.
Oh, did I tell you? I'm not young. The majority of my life has been rather protected as I dodged many dangerous situations with dexterity. I was fairly convinced that my fate was to live fully, sometimes close to the edge, but always swerving back to center. Yes, I was pretty sure of that.
What a surprise to find my loved one on the ground, 10 years younger than me, surrendering to death from a heart attack. Is this real? I understand it is typical to think that your loved one may show up, walking through the door to the greeting of "OOH, there you are!". Eventually the fantasy of this subsides as we get glimpses of a new way of living.
I'd like to share this journey with you, if you don't mind my direct references to the reality of heartbreak. We can break open together and explore new sensations and some comprehension of the calling that keeps us moving forward.
Val Spies, Lotus Pond Yoga Studio owner and Yoga Teacher training director.