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Solowingnow

~ Dealing with change doesn't mean starting over; it's about how you transition from wherever you are right now to the next place.

Solowingnow

Monthly Archives: August 2016

Reaching out and opening up

30 Tuesday Aug 2016

Posted by Pat in Gratitude, Grief, Sabbatical, Transformation

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You just never know the path that other people have been on. Our world has gotten too good at denying the open expression of our feelings, especially at work.  That doesn’t mean that people aren’t hurting, or confused, or wanting to help others. Let me tell you about a week I had recently when I was training.

The subject was leadership. A facet that many in the group were interested in was managing change. I told them that you don’t really “manage” change, although that is the popular lexicon. The change happens. Sometimes we know it is coming, sometimes it just jumps out at us in one fell swoop, and sometimes we don’t realize until after the fact that the change occurred. Change is usually an event.  I’m not talking about PMS and menopause, by the way!

So if we can’t manage change, what then? Well, we can manage the change process, I said. More accurately, we manage the transition that follows a change. I explained this to the group, and we then discussed the stages of transition and how we go through them and how we can help others. From the ending and letting go, to the middle space where we let things settle out, to the new beginning.   Yes, I took a slight risk and used my husband’s death and my grieving as an example, rather than, say, converting to a new case management system. (But later I did use that example also.)

The risk I took was that I would make my audience too uncomfortable with such a personal example, or almost worse, lose my composure and start crying.  Horror of horrors! Not at work!!  But that didn’t happen this time. And that in itself is proof that I have managed this transition and am on the upswing again.

What was interesting is what happened as a result.  A man brought up a situation in which people were moved to a new office. From a small space with no windows to a larger office with a view. And the person cried. He didn’t know what to do. He could not understand that the employee wasn’t jumping for joy.  I explained that even when we want the change to happen, we still have feelings that need to be honored and expressed. I might guess it had to do with security, comfort in the status quo, or the prospect of people now watching her, or maybe even increased expectations as a result. Maybe it was going to be more distraction, or … You get the idea. The man in the class seemed amazed at these possibilities. He said he would handle the next time differently and ask questions instead of making assumptions.  And that’s not all…

A woman in the class brought me a card the next day. She didn’t want to say anything in front of the entire group, but she had lost her only sibling 26 years ago.  She occasionally struggles with questions of “what would it be like to have a niece or nephew?” And she sometimes is frustrated because she is now the sole caregiver for her aging parents. She thinks this experience has made her stronger, but she is proof that we don’t just “get over” a loss.  The feelings change, recede, visit from time to time, but never go away completely. It doesn’t mean we are still sad 26 years later, or forever, but simply that our feelings change, especially as situations change. With her parents now needing attention, the reason she is the only one left to give care seems fresh.  She will remember that others may also be going through the same thing, and we haven’t a clue why. She said I was courageous and showed integrity. And there is another story, too.

This woman came to me as everyone else left at the end of the course. She had tears in her eyes. I’m not sure of her age, but I would guess late 30’s; she has a 14 year old son. Her husband passed away suddenly a year ago of a heart attack. She told me that she doesn’t ever talk about it at work at all because she doesn’t want anyone to feel sorry for her or pity her. She tries to maintain an “everything’s just fine” appearance. She took off her wedding ring and replaced it with another favorite of hers.  (I took mine off and don’t wear any rings at all most of the time, on either hand.) She was appreciative that I was willing to talk out loud about it, said it gave her courage. In her view I gained credibility because of my story, and she also appreciated that I shared it so she knew she wasn’t alone.

And then there is the woman I met at Starbucks. She lost everything when her 19-year-old son died in a car accident. She couldn’t concentrate and didn’t care; she lost her job of 20 years. She had bills to pay (including a funeral and medical expenses) but no job. She lost her home. She became difficult to be around, and she lost her friends. But it’s all okay, according to her, because she is “dealing” with it.  She blamed her ex-husband for allowing the son to have a driver’s license, for letting him drive his car. She also has a 14-year-old son who is bigger than she is, and he grabbed her arm. She knew he needed a man in his life, so she sent him a thousand miles away to live at Dad’s. All she wants now is to not sleep in her car, and to get her late son’s ashes back from the hotel that threw her out because she didn’t pay her bill. She smiled and laughed as she told me her story, and I could see the pain she was trying to deny.

There, but for the Grace of God, go I.  We all have our stories.  All of us, not just those of us who have suffered a death of someone close to us. We all walk our own path that might be uphill at times, have twists and turns, potholes, or quicksand. And we also have views of hills and valleys filled with flowers and freshness, rainbows to give us hope, signs to guide us, and scampering critters to let us know we are not alone.

I realized that in the early days I hadn’t really “talked” about my grief much, although I do talk about Kevin all the time now, as if he were still here (because I believe he is, and no, I’m not crazy). I looked for grief support groups but wasn’t successful find one I fit with. So I “showed” my feelings instead.  I was short-tempered, angry, confused, loud, and even mean-spirited.  I hated to cry at my desk, but I couldn’t help myself, and then I felt bad about that – because There’s No Crying In Baseball!!! (According to Tom Hanks in League of Their Own.)  I was making the effort we must make to keep on living, but I was so exhausted from crying and not knowing what would happen next and not sleepingsoIdidwhateverIdidwithoutthinkingmuchuntilIcouldn’tanymore. And when I talked it out and rested, finally, it all sorted itself.  When I talked about my feelings instead of trying to be strong all the time, I released them and made space for other, better feelings.  I even came to like myself again.  When I started sharing my experience, I felt able to accept the gift of grief I had been given.  If it weren’t for this time in my life, I wouldn’t be who I am, doing what I’m doing, being more of who I am, getting closer to being a better version of me.

If you need to talk, I’m here. Or at my camper. I’m going camping next week, to recharge and refresh my perspective once again. I’m learning to recognize the signals my body gives me, and do something about that. Autumn has always been my favorite time of year.  I’m glad it’s coming.  Open windows, open mind. Fresh air, fresh ideas. Vibrant colors, vibrant living.  We can walk while we talk, even if it’s on the phone.

 

 

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Funeral poem for Delores

22 Monday Aug 2016

Posted by Pat in Grief, Uncategorized

≈ 2 Comments

On Saturday, August 13, I attended the memorial service for my stepmom, Delores. The best part, read by the minister at the cemetery after the church service, was this poem. If I had known of it before, I would have used it for Kevin’s service, because it fit his passing to a tee.

I’m Free – Unknown

This poem is attributed to various authors and is apparently known by several different titles also.

Don’t grieve for me, for now I’m free,
I’m following the path God laid for me.
I took his hand when I heard his call,
I turned my back and left it all.

I could not stay another day,
To laugh, to love, to work, to play.
Tasks left undone must stay that way,
I’ve found that peace at the close of the day.

If my parting has left a void,
Then fill it with remembered joy.
A friendship shared, a laugh, a kiss,
Ah yes, these things I too will miss.

Be not burdened with times of sorrow,
I wish you the sunshine of tomorrow.
My Life’s been full, I savored much,
Good friends, good times, a loved one’s touch,

Perhaps my time seemed all too brief,
Don’t lengthen it now with undue grief.
Lift up your heart and share with me,
God wanted me now, He set me free.

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The Weight of Grief

10 Wednesday Aug 2016

Posted by Pat in Grief, Transformation

≈ 2 Comments

I’ve noticed lately that I’ve been gaining weight. It’s very likely not new, only that I’ve paid more attention lately.  I’m blaming it on the grief eating I do.  Which is all well and good for a while, but I’m knocking on the door of 2 years, and it’s time to stop playing that card. No more excuses. me 1995 I won’t look like I did 20 years ago, but I know there is a healthier me inside kicking to get out.

As soon as Kevin died, I stopped eating.  I felt sick to my stomache and could barely keep down anything.  That lasted for about a week. Then I started to eat little bits but I had no appetite. I lost 17# the first month. Admittedly, it was all weight I could Pat hatafford to lose. The stress of moving here, starting a new job, in a new state, 3000 miles from my kids, took its toll.  Plenty of our explorations in the area included going out to eat, finding new local mom-and-pop restaurants, riding and stopping for a bite.  It was like being on vacation for a year, and nobody watches what they eat on vacation.

Eventually, I started eating again, to soothe myself, reward myself, tell myself I deserved it, in the name of being kind to myself.  I tried cooking for one, but that didn’t work, so I cooked for both of us like I used to, on the theory that I would have leftovers.  But too often I didn’t have leftovers; I nibbled my way through it all.

Kevin and I had been early morning walkers, which I stopped also.  I watched way too much television – or least I had it on.  I couldn’t concentrate for months, and I have no idea what I watched. I couldn’t read a page and remember it, so I gave up on books for a while.  Contrary to former behavior, I started eating while watching tv.

At least while I was working, I tried harder to look like I had it together, dressing decently and needing for my clothes to fit properly.  When I quit last fall for this sabbatical, I found the joy of yoga pants and elastic waists.  I got in “flowy” clothes.

But no more. I’ve been on the verge of starting a new lifestyle plan for a while, and last weekend my friend Karine brought over a documentary for me to watch. It’s called Fat, Sick, and Nearly Dead, or something like that. A guy named Joe Cross from Australia faced serious health challenges due to his weight, and he started juicing and exercising.  It’s a great story, and of course, has a happy ending: he lost the weight, helped other people lose weight, and probably made millions off his story, his book, the documentary, and his Reboot juicing plans.

Yes, we’re going to do it. In September, because I have three out of state trips to manage yet this month.  But I’m doing some early prep work, starting with more fresh fruits and veggies, and one juice per day for breakfast.juice  It looks like I prefer cucumbers in a creamy or vinaigrette sauce to cucumber-infused water or in juices!  I also think kale is nasty.  But I also am only buying pre-made juices at the grocery store right now instead of making my own, which I think will help me find veggies I like better. I am on the hunt for a good-enough juicer now.

I believe that losing the physical weight will help me get rid of some other mental baggage I’ve been carrying around, too.  Like survivor’s guilt, victimhood, and mild depression. Maybe I’ll even find the energy to deal with some of Kevin’s things that are still in the closet or the garage or attic. So wish me luck!

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pat@solowingnow.com

Cell 757.359.0251

Whenever I'm awake, but not usually before 9 am or after 9 pm

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