What Does Healing Look Like?

     Just like healing from a physical injury or disease is seldom a straight line, so too is the process of healing from a loss.  But over the last few weeks, with the help of some intense self examination and awareness, I have managed to receive some insights into healing as well as to experience some actual healing.

     I took a long road trip out to Washington state last month and as part of that, spent six long days in the car driving through state after state.  Such an experience gives one a lot of time to think.  During those long and often lonely stretches of time, I worked on the grief process, listened to music that would make me sad, and basically spent a good deal of that time in active grieving.  While it is unlikely that we can in any way accelerate the process, I felt as though I had arrived at a new perspective after having arrived home from the trip.

     One dimension of the grieving process is the desire for the pain to abate.  That is a constant. And we really must actively search for ways to make that happen.  One of the very best ways to deal with the pain of grieving is to allow yourself to laugh, an incredible antidote to the pain. And when you find yourself enjoying a moment of laughter, it is helpful to stop and acknowledge that moment to yourself.  Lock it in. Give yourself permission to laugh, and grant that permission over and over.

    Another helpful strategy that I discovered quite by accident is to stop stabbing yourself with the sharp edge of the pain of grief.  Yesterday, as is my Saturday habit, I listened to all my favorite NPR Saturday shows: Car Talk, Wait Wait Don't Tell Me, This American Life, Ask Me Another and so on. During the shows I caught myself saying over and over to myself "Susan would love this". And I realized that every time I did that, I would feel the prick of the pain of missing her.  I resolved, with some success to stop doing that.  It was really the gratuitous infliction of pain. And apparently it was time to discover this habit and break it.  I enjoyed the rest of the day's programs much more, laughed more and acknowledged to myself that I had a great time.

     There is no magic bullet, no magic potion to get us through the process of grief. But we are active participants in the process, and there are steps we can take to help us get through the process while staying sane.

Be well and at peace.

09-13-2015

 

 

Dealing With Multiple Losses

I have no way to judge whether my situation is exceptional, but I was the last living member of my family of origin when my beloved wife passed away several months ago.  My father, mother, sister and brother have all been lost, and now my beloved.  Sometimes I am simply overwhelmed by the cumulative sense of loss and abandonment. 

My father died at the age of 41 when I was 10. I still miss him.  He was a good human being, kind and gentle, with a razor sharp mind, a sense of humor and a calm demeanor.  My mom passed away in 1999 and my sister followed 4 years later.  My brother had simply vanished several year earlier and attempts to locate him were in vain.

Finally, after a 3 year struggle, my wife of 20 years succumbed to her cancer. And with this devastating loss, it seems as though all the losses have knit themselves together into one horrific disaster, feeding upon one another.  

I count myself very lucky that my family and friends have been incredibly supportive, kind and generous with their time and support.  In addition, I have availed myself of more than one support group dealing with loss; have read a number of books that I have found somewhat helpful, and have tried very hard to stay open to everything offered. This seems to be the best way to get through this absolute madness. 

The other thing I have done is resolved not to make any major decisions until at least one year has passed from the time my beloved passed away. Emotions rush by like so much freeway traffic, and I find myself laughing one minute and crying the next.  One cannot make important decisions under such circumstances, or in any event, should not. 

Operating from the position of having no earthly idea what the rest of my life should look like, I get up every day, drag myself through the day doing what is expected of me, leading the life I led when my wife was alive, but without her.  I hate it; detest this colorless, joyless existence that has no Susan in it. But now is not the time to change it. I must be patient with myself and with life in general.  I do invest some measure of hope in the old adage, "This too shall pass".

09-01-2015