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Whew, a whirlwind time. Since January 2008 my life has been a series of wonderful adventures, but being way from home takes a toll.
I recall reading “somewhere” that when a person loses a spouse they lose “half” of their memory. Makes sense in so many ways because as a “team” you rely on the other to tend to certain things.
With loss and transition of any kind we lose a piece of our former selves (to be regained in other ways).
I remember following the death of our sweet dog I HATED doing yard work. For some reason I didn’t want to go outside and work . I realized slowly that part of working in the yard had to do with Neeko chasing tennis balls and then dropping them in any hole I dug…the yard-game would begin…Once realized and accepted the yard work didn’t seem so daunting.
The dis-ease we experience with transitions is normal..to be expected, but still challenging.
How to welcome the challenge? How to step up to the challenge?
Interesting article in Newsweek about the mistake of seeking “happiness” and rejecting normal sorrow. Positive psychology is NOT about rejecting sorrow, it is about creating circumstances (both internal and external) that increase a sense of well-being…and sometimes well-being is enhanced by having a good cry…managing whatever comes up at a given time.
There’s been a resurgence in attachment theory in the literature and clinical practice of psychology. The short version is that our sense of well-being is enhanced by having “secure attachments” Remember Harlow’s wire monkey-mommies? Hard to form an attachment to a wire “mommy”
Transitions always accompany a shift and change in attachment. And in many ways that loss of the “secure attachment” creates anxiety, feelings of being abandoned, and a general sense of loss. Oftentimes we don’t take the time to absorb and manage those changes or “losses” of attachment instead we question why we are feeling so out of sorts.
It has been almost seven months since I closed my clinical practice. Lots of loss associated with that. My clients’ whom I adored, my colleagues who brightened my world and challenged me, my identity as a “psychologist.” Even though the change was predicated on the belief that I needed to move into a new and challenging career, there was loss.
I remember when both of my daughters were “launched” and left home. What a strange and challenging time for all of us. Here was mom laughing and crying all at the same time. Delighted that my “girls” were venturing out into the “big world” while at the same time missing our Sunday night “beauty shop time”. Wanting them to do EXACTLY what they were doing, but at the same time feeling the emptiness that followed.
So, as I sit here typing away, still feeling the “stupids” from the airplane air, I think today I will be a kinder and gentler Beth. Give myself a break from the “shoulds” and the ought-to’s”…I will just “be here now” and know that is exactly where I am meant to be.
read comments (3)
April 21st, 2008 at 6:14 pm
Hi Beth,
I enjoy reading your posts, and this one especially touched me. It’s been a little over a year since my husband Michael died. I feel that most of the time I’m honoring (and not wallowing in) my grief. Losing half of my memory…that is something I can definitely relate to. Thank you for sharing your thoughts.
Hugs,
Mary
April 23rd, 2008 at 12:04 pm
Thank you for sharing your thoughts & feelings with all of us. It’s tricky isn’t it–the attachments we have bring love & make us happy and at the same time when we lose them, they bring us sorrow because we did love them so much. I found this beautiful poem & thought that some of you might enjoy it. It’s from volume 5, 2000, A Light in the Mist, a publication of Healing Environments, a nonprofit organization dedicated to comforting the suffering
It Doesn’t Interest me
It doesn’t interest me
what you do for a living. I want to know what
you ache for—and if you dare to dream of
meeting your heart’s longing.
It doesn’t interest me
how old you are. I want to know if you will
risk looking like a fool for love, for your
dream, for the adventure of being alive.
It doesn’t interest me
what planets are squaring your moon.
I want to know if you have touched the
center of your own sorrow, have been opened
by life’s betrayals, or have become shriveled
and closed from fear of further pain.
I want to know
if you can sit with pain, mine or your own,
without moving to hide it or fade it or fix it.
I want to know
if you can be with joy, mine or your own, if
you dance with wildness and let it fill you to
the tips of your fingers and toes, without
cautioning us to be careful, to be realistic, or
to remember the limitations of being human.
It doesn’t interest me
if the story you are telling is true. I want to
know if you can disappoint another to be true
to yourself, if you can bear the accusation of
betrayal—and not betray your own soul.
I want to know
if you can see beauty even when it is not
pretty everyday, and if you can source your
life from its presence.
I want to know
if you can live with failure, yours and mine,
and still stand on the edge of a lake and shout
to the moon: YES!
It doesn’t interest me
to know where you live or how much money
you have. I want to know if you can get up
after the night of grief and despair, weary and
bruised to the bone, and do what needs to be
done for the children.
It doesn’t interest me
who you are or how you came to
be here. I want to know if you can stand in
the center of the fire with me and not
shrink back.
It doesn’t interest me
what or where or with whom you have
studied. I want to know what sustains you
from the inside, when all else falls away.
I want to know
if you can be alone with yourself—and if you
truly like the company you keep in the
empty moments.
—Oriahe Mountain Dreamer, An Indian Elder
April 23rd, 2008 at 3:56 pm
I love this piece, thank you so much for sharing it with all of us…
Blessings,
Beth