Ready. Set. Face.

I have a friend whose young daughter narrowly escaped a tragedy this past summer. Around the time of the event, the mom could speak of it relatively matter-of-factly, with only the slightest tremble of the hands and tightening of voice belying the pain and fear beneath.

For the first few months, mom strayed strong. She distracted the child and went on about life. She held the trauma of the near-tragedy at arm’s length with only periodic glances that confirmed its existence. She was okay.

And then the child got sick. Nothing major, just a normal fall childhood illness, but it triggered the fear of losing her child in the mother.

She was facing what she couldn’t before.

The first time through, she didn’t know if her daughter would be okay. That was unfaceable at the time.

This time through, she knows that her child will be okay and so the pent-up emotions are released.

And now she can face them.

 

Often we begin to face things only when we feel safe.

Maslow talks about how basic physical and psychological needs must be met before self-actualization can occur. When faced with trauma, our basic needs of safety and security must be met before we can address , face-on, the emotions at the root of the pain. If you try to face it too soon, while your existence is still precarious, your mind will grip and refuse to let go. If you fail to face it, choosing to keep your gaze averted, it will become like a cancerous growth, slowing releasing its toxins.

Facing Trauma

Acknowledge that trauma is often too big to process all at once. Think of it like untying a knot, teasing away at it until it unravels completely. Be patient with yourself. It’s tempting to pretend to be healed because of the calendar. But the mind doesn’t understand time. Stay with it as long as it takes.

Recognize if you are turning away from the whole of the pain because it is too big to bear. Be gentle with yourself, Do not force it, yet do not ignore it either. Face it in time. Total lockdown is no way to live for long.

Look for ways to help increase your feelings of emotional safety or security. These must be met first. Look for tangibles that prove you are okay. Have a back-up plan. Find people that have your back.

Breathe. Pain has a way of shutting down the breath, as though the trauma whispers in with each inhale. Allow the breath to flow, releasing tension with each exhale.

Recognize that healing is a process, not a switch. It comes in waves, following the pain. Just because you do or not feel a certain way right now, does not mean you never will.

 

In the first couple months after my ex disappeared, I didn’t feel much. I was scared to open the dams, not sure if the impending emotions would be too powerful to bear. I was still in shock. trying to make sense of it all. And, I was trying to push it aside so that I could attend to the necessities of life.

But I knew I couldn’t do that forever.

I booked a short stay at a meditation and yoga retreat with the intention of opening the dam with the professionals there as flotation devices. I left all of the distractions (which I was so good at using) behind and steeled myself for the face-off: woman vs. trauma. Go.

It was pretty unimpressive. A few trickles of loss. Some tears. Some aching void.

But nothing on the scale I feared.

Because I wasn’t yet ready to face it. Again, trauma doesn’t speak calendar. It doesn’t respond well to scheduled appointments.

It likes to show up on its own time.

Even though I didn’t engage in an epic battle with my trauma at that time, the trip was valuable. I learned that I could let the pain in, that it wouldn’t flatten me. I learned that I could work away at it a little at a time. I learned that I couldn’t force healing on my terms. And I learned that my responsibility was to address the pain when it did arise (which was never at a convenient time).

It’s easy to see pain as a bad thing. But maybe it’s a sign of healing, an indication that you’re ready to address it.

Ready.

Set.

Face.

 

 

Finding Love After Loss

I came across this article last night and it really resonated. The author gives some great tips on how to move on again after loss of any kind. I hope that you also find his advice useful and enlightening.  I urge you to read it even if a new relationship seems unfathomable in the current moment. After all, the way you feel right now is not the way you will always feel.

Finding Love After Loss: 7 Steps For Moving Forward

We all have “baggage.”  It comes with being human — and with having relationships.

By age 18, most of us have discovered that relationships can be a source of great joy, satisfaction and meaning when our needs for love, affection and companionship are met. Or a source of heartache and sorrow when they’re not.

Few things in life are as uplifting as being in a loving relationship. Or as painful as losing someone we love. Whether we lose them as the result of death or a “living loss” like separation, divorce, infidelity, alcohol, drug addiction, illness, injury or something else, moving on can present some daunting challenges. Facing these challenges, taking the necessary time to get our footing and opening the doors to finding love again is best achieved when we balance patience with courage.

Having coached countless hundreds of clients seeking to find love after a loss, there are some proven steps for regaining your strength, trust, faith, confidence and moving forward:

1. Take Small Steps  

Above all else, be patient. Trying to get back into “the game” by jumping back into a relationship before your mind is clear and heart is sufficiently healed is a formula for disaster. Some of us can barely stand on our own two feet and yet, we’re looking for love (in all the wrong places) to fill the void.  Read the rest on eHarmony.

Some of my related pieces:

One Step at a Time

Finding Love Again

Love After Divorce: A Reflection on a Journey

Dating After Divorce: Ten Tips for Success

Fear of Commitment?

Fear & Anticipation

Are you afraid of commitment? Have you been in a relationship with someone who experiences trepidation at the thought of pledging devotion? We tend to think of people who shy away from commitment as being immature or unwilling to make sacrifices. Maybe you use it as an excuse yourself to keep others at arm’s length. Perhaps you generate the term dismissively as a reason to end a budding relationship, stating it as an embedded character flaw.

But what if we are thinking about the fear of commitment all wrong?

What if the true fear is not one of committing and promising to keep, but one of losing? The fear of commitment hides other fears behind its legs. Do you recognize any of these?

Fear of Losing Self

When we commit – to another person, to a career, to children, or even to a lease, we are bonding ourselves to something for a length of time. We can become afraid that we will begin to melt into our commitments, our edges becoming soft and the delineation unclear. Perhaps you fear being swallowed whole by that which you pledged. We all know people who become their jobs or who seem to lose sight of themselves in a marriage. It’s a scary thought to lose yourself. However, it is not inevitable. Be clear who you are. Know your nonnegotiables and your truths and hold to them.

Fear of Losing Freedom

There can be an inverse relationship between commitments and freedom. The more obligations you have to others, the less you can act without regard. Freedom is certainly precious, but it can also be misunderstood. Sometimes we think we want to live in a boundary-less world, but in reality, we tend to want flexible and known limitations. Complete freedom comes with a sense of disconnection and loneliness. We are not that different than the teenager who tests the boundaries, looking for the “no” that tells them they are loved and cared about.

Fear of Failing

When we promise something, we are putting pressure on ourselves to step up and make it work. There is always that doubting voice in the back of our minds that says, “What if I screw up?” There is always a risk of failing. In fact, in many ways, failing is inevitable. It is one of our greatest (and, yes, harshest) teachers but only if we allow it to be. If you try, you might fail. If you don’t try, you certainly will.

Fear of Losing Love

The other losses can apply to any kind of commitment; this one applies to relationships. When we allow ourselves to realize what we have, and to promise to remain faithful to it, we then become aware of the magnitude of its potential loss. The only way to be sure that you will never lose love, is to never allow yourself to taste it. It may be effective, but it is a hell of a tradeoff. This one hit me recently.

So next time you find yourself or another afraid of commitment, look at what may be hiding behind. What are you afraid of losing?

 

In My Other Life

Duma Key
Duma Key (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

In my other life, I never used to listen to audiobooks. From a practical standpoint, my commute wasn’t much more than a mile each way so I wasn’t in the car long enough to tire of the radio. There was another reason, as well. I am a visual learner. Big time. If I see it, I remember it. However, I have always struggled with auditory input that is passive in nature, such as lectures or, yes, audiobooks. When I tried to listen, even to a familiar story, I would get lost and frustrated with my inability to keep the characters and narrative straight.

But that was my former life. I turned to audiobooks from the library first out of desperation. I know spend about an hour in the car each day and the antennae on my 14-year-old car chooses to rise only occasionally. In my old life, I used to say that I can’t comprehend audiobooks. In my new life, I was willing to learn. My commute is now one of the highlights of my day as I work my way through my library’s selection of books on CD. I use the time to explore genres and non fiction topics that I would usually pass by (inspired by the necessity of a limited collection) and I “reread” favorites from my past.

I am currently on a Stephen King kick. I’ve read everything that man has published, much of many years earlier. The high quality of the narration on his audiobooks makes it a distinct pleasure. I find myself completely pulled into his world as I travel to and from work each day. It’s interesting how his books resonate differently with me now than they did in my other life.

My current selection is Duma Key, a book primarily set on an island in Florida that follows Edgar, a man who took a “geographical” after a tragic accident cost him his health and his marriage. There, he meets Wireman, also drawn to island after catastrophe. I was drawn to a particular line, uttered repeatedly by both men throughout the book:

“In my other life…”

Both men suffered great losses. Edgar, formerly a contractor, lost his arm, his mobility after a hip was crushed and experienced head trauma after being crushed by a crane. While he was recovering, his wife filed for divorce. Wireman, a lawyer,  lost both his daughter and his wife and, as a result, attempted suicide, the slug taking his vision as it traveled through his temple. Those losses were stark, a clear delineation between their past lives and their present.

I am drawn to the matter of fact way they accept their new worlds. They don’t spend time bemoaning their losses, although, especially in the case of Wireman’s wife and daughter, the pain is evident when they talk about it. They work within their new limitations to make the most of their new lives without trying to recreate the old.

That is what I have tried to achieve with my own life. I have had to accept that my other life is gone and is beyond reach. Rather than spending time nurturing the loss or trying fruitlessly to recreate what I had, I try to focus on building the best life possible now. I now talk matter of factly about my other life, as distantly as if I was discussing a character in a book.

Some of the changes between my former life and now have been dramatic. I never used to write. I was a private person. And, I always made decisions very conservatively, planning for an imagined future. I have a new name, a new city, a new beau, a new job, a new dog. A new life.

Some of the changes are slight, and strike me as funny.

In my other life, I never rolled the toothpaste tube. This drove my ex crazy, even though we didn’t share toothpaste and it was stored out of sight. Now, I am a dedicated roller.

In my other life, I never used to finish any beverage, always leaving a quarter inch of fluid in the bottom of any glass. I now enjoy every last sip.

In my other life, I hated asparagus. Now it is one of my favorite vegetables.

At a cellular level, our bodies are constantly renewing themselves, shedding the old cells as they die and replacing them with new. Sometimes we need to shed our other lives so that we have room for the new growth.

My other life was lived by an other me. And now I have a new life that fits the new me.

Embracing the Blues

IMG_3633

“My ears are in ecstasy,” whispered Brock as he turned towards me.

He sure wasn’t talking about the dulcet tones of my exceptional singing voice. It may work to help my 8th graders remember the quadratic formula, but it sure wouldn’t lead to any claims of ecstasy.

The sounds that elicited this response were instead coming from the guitar of the young blues master, Jonny Lang.

English: Jonny Lang

We were fortunate to be able to secure tickets to see Jonny Lang and Buddy Guy perform at a nearby venue. We were treated to 3 1/2 hours of incredible blues.

The blues were born from suffering, their name taken from the indigo dye used to color mourning garments in Africa. Their simplistic backbone, consisting of a basic chord progression and a liberal use of repetition, allows the emotion behind the music to take center stage. Gifted musicians speak not only of playing the blues, but of feeling the blues. Without the feeling, the music falls flat.

The uniting structure makes the blues predictable yet the freedom to improvise makes the next not impossible to forecast. It is familiar yet volatile.

The simplicity extends to the stage. From the grittiest dive bar to the fanciest hoity-toity venue, most performers dress plainly and shun any fancy stage decorations. Jonny Lang and Buddy Guy were no exception – their entire set-up could fit in a small U-Haul, with the guitars taking up most of the room.

The blues don’t whisper. They don’t speak in nuance and hide behind closed doors. The deep, melancholy tones are played loud, with no shame. There is a repeated pattern of building tension and then release. It is as visceral and cathartic as good cry.

Buddy Guy at the Long Beach Blues Festival
Buddy Guy at the Long Beach Blues Festival (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

The players stand alone on the stage. They are together yet each is in his own world, bound by the edges of the spotlight. As they engage in call and response, they each speak through the music of their suffering and their own loss, creating a common bond.

The blues don’t rush; there is no hurry to complete one song to move on to another. A tune is played until all of the emotion has been wrung out. As Buddy said, “Don’t be afraid of getting a little funky”.

Blues musicians know that tears and laughter are not mutually exclusive. Many are not afraid of injecting humor into their doleful tunes, the resulting laughter purifying the soul.

The blues started out as way of dealing with suffering, the tunes shared only with friends and family. It evolved into a performance art, the pain transformed into something that could bring happiness to others through a common language of sadness and loss. By embracing the blues, they have created beauty from the sorrow. How can you do the same?