Showing posts with label finding balance. Show all posts
Showing posts with label finding balance. Show all posts

Tuesday, May 29, 2012

Get a Grip

May.

May is just a hard, stressful month for me.  There's a lot of good in May, but it all seems to be overtaken by my mom's death.  It hangs over me and the month sucks the energy right out of me.

Compound that with three weekends out of town, over 70 hours in the car with two toddlers, cleaning out my parent's house and a really heavy workload.  May has kicked my ass. 

To cope, I gave up taking care of me.  When something had to give, I gave up my time to walk.  When my emotions took over I gave up counting points in return for the comfort of a glass (or two) of wine and not-so-good-for-me food. 

It felt good in the moment.  But today I'm feeling sluggish and a wee bit depressed that I let things get this far away from me.  So I went and bought a cookie. 

Yup -- My name is Amanda and I am an emotional eater.

But I felt like crap.  And that cookie tasted like crap.  And you know what, that cookie didn't make me feel any less crappier so I threw two thirds of it in the trash.  It's time for me to get a grip.  There are only a couple more short days left to May and I need to get myself back on track.  Enough wallowing.  Enough giving into the stress.  Enough letting the depression take over.  Enough Enough Enough!

I need to take hold of things again and thrive on that feeling of accomplishment when I loose a couple of pounds.  Thrive on that pride when I meet or exceed my training goals for the week.  Thrive on taking care of myself not just catering to my downtrodden emotions.  I need to put my focus on making my body strong and healthy because when I was doing that my mind felt healthier and stronger.

So even though it's hot as hell here today, I'm going to refuse to make excuses and put my miles in.  And I swear I'm not going to pull that cookie out of the trash :-). 

Tuesday, April 24, 2012

Emily's Question

I recently wrote this post over at Merelymothers.  Emily left a comment and asked me to write about how I got through the toughest times and if I have any tips or ideas for facing such a loss.  Emily shared that her mom has been diagnosed with Early Onset Alzheimers Disease.

Emily, if you are reading this, first let me say that I am so sorry that you and your mother have to face this.  And thank you for reaching out.  Loss is such a hard and lonely process.  It's so very personal and no one will ever experience loss the exact same way you will.

I cannot begin to understand the emotions you are feeling.  The loss of my mom was, in comparison, sudden and unexpected.  It was acute on every level.  I didn't have a long time to to think about what was to come.  To play the future over in my head.  I can only imagine that the anticipation of what is to come is overwhelming and all encompassing. 

I think it is important to put out there that I am by no means an expert in grief and loss.  Personally, I don't think I have necessarily faced the loss in my life all that gracefully.  I don't think that I have done it right.  So I feel completely unqualified to be giving advice. But I have spent an enormous amount of time reflecting on where I am and where I have been and there are some lessons I learned and some things I have worked on that I will share with you.  These may (or may not) resonate with you or anyone else who has faced loss but they come from my very personal grieving experience.

Be kind to yourself.  This is something I have struggled with in life.  I have always been very critical of how I handle situations - I was the same way (and still am) when dealing with grief.  It is OK not to be OK.  It is OK to give yourself the space and time to deal with your emotions, what ever they are, in the moment.  Don't judge your process - because remember, grief and loss is personal.  It is your journey, don't compare it to anothers, don't expect to follow a prescribed path.

Take care of yourself.  Physically.  Grief and loss is hard on your system.  It will wear you down.  Exhaust you.  Eat.  Sleep.  Even at the worst of times, things felt more manageable after a good night of sleep. 

Take care of yourself.  Emotionally.  I am a huge (HUGE) proponent of therapy.  There is nothing to be ashamed of in getting professional help.  A good therapist will be able to help you verbalize and navigate your feelings.     

Everyone else around you will be grieving and dealing with loss too and they will not deal with it the same way you do.  I remember when I lost my mom all I wanted was to reach out and to latch onto someone else.  I wanted someone else to love me the way my mom did.  I wanted someone else to understand me the way my mom did.  My first realization was that no one else around me was capable to doing that because they were processing the loss of my mom as well.  They were stuck in their grief.  The second thing I realized is that you can't avoid grief simply by replacing the lost love.  There is no replacement. 

Similarly, I had to give space for others that are grieving.  It's not a pretty process.  People facing loss are necessarily selfish.  Their whole being is encompassed with how the loss is affecting THEM.  I found that my capacity and the capacity of those around me to truly understand how others were affected was simply not there.  It is so easy to get into the "I loved her more" "I miss her more" "the loss is the worst for me" game.  When you feel yourself going there, or see someone else going there, take a step back.  Those feelings are real, but they can be hurtful.  Grief is hard enough without it being a competition.

Embrace small moments of happiness.  Oh, I remember how guilty I felt when I first felt joy after losing my mom.  I remember how hard it was to reconcile grief and joy.  But those small moments of happiness are so important for the healing process.  They start as tiny little glimmers.  Don't ignore the glimmers.

Sit in the grief.  Don't run from it.  It will find you.  Cry.  Cry hard.  Cry ugly.  I had to hit the bottom to start climbing back up. And I hit it time and time again.  It's  OK!

Grief for me has been a two step forward, one step back process. Slow progress.  I start feeling like I am coping and things are much much better just to fall down again.  It happens.  It happens a lot.  I think it's OK.

Something my therapist told me (remember I'm a big fan of those guys): I may have lost my mom but she lives inside me.  She is part of me.  And because I carry her with me she lives on.  As long as I love her, she lives on.  As long as I continue to be the person she raised me to be, she lives on. There are days that sounds like such bull shit.  But on other days I have found immense comfort in that. 

And I'll end with this - I have found it simply amazing just how strong the human soul is at the moment it feels the weakest. 

I have only now started to be able to connect with the experiences others have had with grief and loss.  I have only now begun to see little ways this awful terrible thing has made me stronger and more resilient.  In a millisecond I would give all that strength and resiliency back to have my mom here but I guess what I am trying to say is even though it feels like it never will - it does get better.  Even though it feels like you never will - you will laugh again.  Even though it feels like you can't do it - you can.  You will.  I did.  I am.

Friday, April 13, 2012

Seeking Inspiration

A couple of weeks ago I spent some time adding new bloggers to my twitter feed and daily reading list.  One has cancer, one's sister died, one is a recovering addict, one is a struggling single mom, one's husband is on deployment.  The list goes on.

As I thought about this the other day my initial reaction was - gee Amanda, you seem to be spending a lot of time reading about other's misfortunes.  And I contemplated stopping.  Was I looking for others who felt despair?  Was I comparing my struggles with their struggles?  Was I looking for a reason for my heart to ache? 

I really wasn't sure why I was spending so much time with these strangers and their "problems."  I even downloaded a book last night written by a man who lost his mother, wife and 4 year old daughter in a horrific car crash. 

But as I was reading through my list of current favorite blogs this morning I realized something.  These are not blogs about despair, or the depths of human sorrow, or raw pain  These are blogs about overcoming that despair and sorrow and pain.  These are blogs about digging deep into your soul and facing some of the hardest moments.  These are blogs about resiliency and hope and faith.  These women and men are putting themselves out there, exposing their most vulnerable moments and sharing little glimmers, little moments of truth, little moments of strength.

When I first lost my mom I was too overcome with grief to even hope to find glimmers of truth or strength.  I was too jaded to have hope or faith.  But now, now I'm searching.  The wounds are not as raw.  The grief isn't as palpable.  And I'm searching to connect.  To connect to others' journeys.  To see the good that has come out of grief and loss and pain.  To know that there is something beautiful that can blossom from devastation.

 Lately, I've been grappling with how to bring meaning to my mom's death.  How to honor her in my daily life.  How to not let her presence in my life, and now lack of presence fade into the past, become an "event" in my life.  I'm scared that by moving past the devastation, that all encompassing grief, that I'm moving past her.  And I struggle with finding a way to hold her in the present.  I don't have an answer for this.  I've done grief and despair for a long time.  But I don't know what comes next.  I don't know how to do the next phase (whatever that phase is).         

I think this is why I'm drawn to the lives behind these blogs.  I think this is why I keep seeking out others who have faced difficulty.  I need to know how they do it.  I need to see how they do it.  I need their inspiration And their moments of wisdom and truth are helping me navigate my way into whatever lies ahead.

Tuesday, April 3, 2012

A Moment of Clairty

Today I was driving back to my office and was overwhelemed by the beauty around me.  The clarity of the world.  The wonder of nature and spring and cherry blossoms and bright blue skies. 

And I realized something, I haven't felt this wonder about life in general in a very long time. 

I'm in awe of my kids and there are days that their sheer existence brings me joy I didn't know possible.

But that feeling of being one with the World -- of feeling present and grateful of that presence has alluded me for some time. 

Today it felt like I took off a pair of tinted sun glasses and for the first time all the colors came into focus.  It made me catch my breath and marvel in just how much beauty there is. 

And in that moment I gave thanks.  I gave thanks for my life, for my husband, for my babies, for my family and my friends.  I gave thanks for the cherry blossoms, and the warm sun and the blue sky.  I gave thanks for what I have and the ability to go after what I want.

I can't really explain it adequately but I felt whole and full and it was wonderful.  I smiled and I laughed and I inhaled deeply.

Things are coming into focus and I'm seeing the colors again, in all their wonderful vibrancy. 

Thursday, February 23, 2012

A Birthday Wish for My Mom

Dear Mom,

Happy Birthday. 

How I wish you were here for me to say that to you. 

I wish you were here to share this day with Will - celebrating your 59th year life and Will's first year.  Oh, how I know you would have loved sharing your big day with this sweet child. 

Mom, thank you for helping me become the woman I am today.  Thank you for teaching me that no matter how hard things get, there is always a reason to look to tomorrow.  Thank you for teaching me to use my words and my writing to express what is inside my mind and heart.  Thank you for making me "strong like bull."

Thank you for teaching me what it means to be a mother.  Thank you for being the example of the parent I want to be.  Thank you for teaching me that being a mom is about kissing booboos and setting boundaries, reading stories and teaching manors, giving room to soar while being a soft place to land.  I walk in a big shadow, but there is no one else's shadow I would want to walk in.

I miss you every day of my life - I miss your voice and your laugh and your hugs -- I miss you!   

I see you in Sam's stubbornness and determination and Will's spirit.  I wish they had the chance to get to know their grandmother the way I knew her.  But don't worry mom, your grandbabies will know you.  They will know you through me and everyone else that carries you with them.

I miss you Mommy.  Happy Birthday!

Don't worry.  I haven't forgotten about Will.  His letter will be posted later today.

Tuesday, December 13, 2011

Grief

I wrote this post a couple of weeks ago and wasn't sure if I was going to post it, but I have found that writing things down has been therapeutic for me.  It's help me work through some of my thoughts and get them out -- let them go.  And if someday someone else reads this and in some way it touches them then it was worth it.  So here goes . . . 


I didn't read any of the books on loss or grief.

I didn't want anyone telling me that my pain was the same as anyone else's. Or that there was a way to get through it.

It wasn't.

There wasn't.

I lost MY mom.

MY MOMMY!

I was bursting from the inside out. Bursting with anger. Bursting with pain. Sadness, jealousy, fear, pity, anxiety, rage.

I went through phases of never wanting to feel again. Never wanting to love. Because if I didn't feel, if I didn't love then I couldn't lose again.

I frantically reached out for support simultaneously pushing the ones who loved me away. Like a child during a temper tantrum. My emotions were so raw I couldn't contain or control them.

I still have moments. When I'm flooded with emotion so strong I can barely breathe. When despite my best efforts, my eyes well up with tears that escape and stain my face.

I think I'll always have those moments.

The victory is that they are moments. And moments pass. And those moments are surrounded by wonderful moments. Two and a half years later I wouldn't say I'm healed. I'm not. I have a long way to go. But I am healing. The wound is not as big, not as raw.

There is still not a day that goes by that I don't think about Mom. That I don't miss her with every fiber of myself. That I don't long to talk to her or hug her one more time. I don't think that will ever go away.

But time has given me the gift of perspective. I am not the only one who has lost. And others have survived to thrive. To live fully, to love fully. To find joy in the everyday.

I'm getting there.

read to be read at yeahwrite.me

Wednesday, November 30, 2011

Life in Perspective

Sometimes something happens in life that reminds you to slow down. To take stock and give thanks for the gifts you've been given.


Sometimes something happens in life that makes you realize that love and pain are so intertwined that it can be hard to tell them apart.

I haven't prayed much since I lost my mom.  My faith and belief have been shaken.  But today I'm putting my gripes with my maker aside and praying.  Praying with all my heart and soul for a little life that has already touched so many.  Praying for his family.  Praying.