I've heard people say that when someone close to you dies, you are never the same. Many people and animals have left this world and I am left to ponder their impressions on my life. I miss their physical presence yet appreciate their time on this earth has passed. In some ways the era that included them still lingers within me. Who I was at that time and my experiences because of it keep my memories fresh. Transitioning to who I am now in a new way is sometimes where I struggle.
I have a friend who tried to be gentle in telling me that my mannerisms and words are very reflective of my Northeastern background. He quickly added: "Not that that's a bad thing." He did his best to compliment my fire and acknowledge that some parts of me are just me at my core. I wonder if some of who I appear to be at my core is partly a shadow of my life with those who have passed. How much am I still my father's child? Are the dogs of my past still influencing my behaviors right now? Is the love I shared with my potbelly pig still affecting the way I see pets and pet pigs in general? Am I a different person because of the time I spent enjoying my horse Jazz?
I'm sure that we all are a combination of experiences and wisdom brought about by past moments. My curiosity is about who affected what and how much of my loneliness is brought about by being forced into an era that is without those of the past who I loved so much. I'm not angry about the loss of those I loved. I'm tired and struggling with adapting to new moments. It's not that I don't wish to grow as a person. It feels more like I keep pushing more and more into unknown territory.
Maybe that's part of why we all endure grief to one degree or another, to push past what is uncomfortable to us. I appreciate a lot of our technological world but I miss writing snail mail. I love that my experience of the world is broader and richer than it used to be yet I still miss what used to be perceived as safe and small. I guess grief has many gifts, not least of which is to push us into seeking new experiences and realizing how limited we can be if we allow it.
I cherish who I was and I wonder who I will evolve into being. Grief feels so multi-level for me. Not only does it seem to pass through stages, it also appears to shift in between levels of depth and meaning. I'm sure we all experience grief in our own unique way. At times it's an incredibly powerful motivator and gift and at others it appears as an impassable blockage of the heart. How we recognize, acknowledge and appreciate our grief is definitely our own. It can be the difference between cherishing the life we have and staying stuck in the depths of our pain.
I don't like being forced into changing yet I know change would not happen for me if I was just given a choice. Grief like change of any kind takes on the energy that we give it. For me, I choose to honor, feel and appreciate all that comes with grief and know I will become uniquely empowered because of it.
Friday, November 6, 2015
It's possible!
Les Brown, motivator speaker, has often referred to the phrase: "It's possible!" in his many stimulating presentations. Les' belief is that if you have a dream that you need to follow it because only you can bring out your own unique gifts and talents. Being disabled and gifted is a very bittersweet combination. Sometimes I want so much to pursue my dreams and often I am stopped, at least momentarily, by a challenge I don't know how to handle. It's really not about being unmotivated but rather feeling misunderstood and frustrated.
My ongoing challenge has been to find the missing link to my continued healing. After all of the shifts in nutrition, supplements, homeopathic remedies and alternative services, I find myself with a staggering truth. My brain, the center of all of my impressions and understandings, doesn't feel safe. I am on sensory overload in one form or another all the time. Although this situation is written about in certain research, very few people understand what it's like to be on guard all the time in one form or another.
Recently I met a man who also has traumatic brain injuries and post traumatic stress disorder. He is a practitioner and one whose honesty and integrity intrigues me. I will be meeting with him later this week because he specializes in working with helping the brain and body of his clients feel safe. If safety is felt, then the body can make remarkable shifts towards healing.
I heard my words as I spoke to him on the phone. I talked about my brain enduring so much stress, grief, fear, and anger. When I mentioned compassion, patience, and allowing myself the time I need to heal I felt comforted. Sometimes this world demands us to be something we are not. Frequently we are expected to appear calm when we're terrified; happy when we're depressed and motivated when we're exhausted. We get so used to appearing one way and deeply feeling another that our incongruence begins to take on a life all its own. We lose touch with who we are at our deepest levels.
We are not beings capable of lying to ourselves without consequence. Sooner or later our masks fall off and we come face to face with our deepest emotions. The raw edge of feeling can be completely overwhelming especially if we have never learned to allow our weaknesses, our imperfections and our pain to be expressed and honored.
As I take the next steps in my healing I feel immensely grateful for those in my life who don't run from my intensity, my sensitivity, and my unique blend of gift and challenge. The pain of being dismissed, misunderstood, criticized and belittled leaves deep scars throughout my being yet I am not consumed by them anymore. I do see beyond them and look forward to honoring and learning from the lessons my scars have to teach.
My ongoing challenge has been to find the missing link to my continued healing. After all of the shifts in nutrition, supplements, homeopathic remedies and alternative services, I find myself with a staggering truth. My brain, the center of all of my impressions and understandings, doesn't feel safe. I am on sensory overload in one form or another all the time. Although this situation is written about in certain research, very few people understand what it's like to be on guard all the time in one form or another.
Recently I met a man who also has traumatic brain injuries and post traumatic stress disorder. He is a practitioner and one whose honesty and integrity intrigues me. I will be meeting with him later this week because he specializes in working with helping the brain and body of his clients feel safe. If safety is felt, then the body can make remarkable shifts towards healing.
I heard my words as I spoke to him on the phone. I talked about my brain enduring so much stress, grief, fear, and anger. When I mentioned compassion, patience, and allowing myself the time I need to heal I felt comforted. Sometimes this world demands us to be something we are not. Frequently we are expected to appear calm when we're terrified; happy when we're depressed and motivated when we're exhausted. We get so used to appearing one way and deeply feeling another that our incongruence begins to take on a life all its own. We lose touch with who we are at our deepest levels.
We are not beings capable of lying to ourselves without consequence. Sooner or later our masks fall off and we come face to face with our deepest emotions. The raw edge of feeling can be completely overwhelming especially if we have never learned to allow our weaknesses, our imperfections and our pain to be expressed and honored.
As I take the next steps in my healing I feel immensely grateful for those in my life who don't run from my intensity, my sensitivity, and my unique blend of gift and challenge. The pain of being dismissed, misunderstood, criticized and belittled leaves deep scars throughout my being yet I am not consumed by them anymore. I do see beyond them and look forward to honoring and learning from the lessons my scars have to teach.
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