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Anger & Fear

2/15/2025

4 Comments

 
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​“Anger is sadness’s bodyguard,” Paul Denniston said recently in a Grief Yoga® class.  I heard it.  It stayed with me.  And, in my mind, it became, “anger is fear’s bodyguard.”  As someone who has always been afraid of anger and what might blow up if it was unleashed, I’m wondering if maybe I’m even more afraid of the tender bits of fear and sadness. 

I can see now I was angry with Nate so often because I was too afraid to feel my fear.  What would I have had to feel if I had softened and removed the protective armor of anger?  Would I become weak, at risk?  As a toddler, I had big temper tantrums.  I’ve had a few as an adult too – when they come it’s always out of a place of feeling trapped, wanting to jump out of my skin.  When I was a kid, none of the “negative” emotions were allowed.  I could only hold them for so long before things blew up.  At other times I’ve experienced depression - maybe an implosion from emotions stuffed away for too long?

Fear and sadness are vulnerable, exposing.  It’s risky to express them or even give them voice in my own mind.  Sometimes I withhold my sadness and fear for fear of infecting others, which leaves me carrying the weight alone.  That sucks!  And so, I’m likely to try to talk myself out of those feelings.  Which I know isn’t helpful or healthy. 

One of the things I love about my meditation practice is its inclusivity.  As we sit with our breath, we don’t push anything away.  Thoughts come and go, sometimes taking us with them until we wake up and bring ourselves back to the breath.  Emotions move through, but nothing needs to be denied, ignored, or pushed away.  In welcoming them all, they have room to breathe and space to be.  They don’t need to escalate to get our attention.  As we relax with them a bit, they too relax. 

In my grief I’ve become far more comfortable with sadness because I know it’s understandable, rational.  No one’s going to tell me I’m crazy for feeling sad.  My son died, for heaven’s sake! 

But fear?  Seems like lots of people want to question my fear or tell me I’m being ridiculous, I’ve been lied to, it’s not going to be as bad as I think… As those messages trickle in, a little voice inside of me joins in.  Self-doubt arises, despite the evidence I have that my fear is warranted. 

Fear needs a place to express – to not be gaslit into oblivion!  Can we gaslight ourselves?  Seems we can. 

Fear is real and reasonable.  Please spare me the “False Evidence Appearing Real” bypass!  It’s deeply offensive when people are facing indisputable threats to their well-being. 

Fear tells us to pay attention – to check things out.  To be discerning.  It’s a built-in survival mechanism that alerts us when something is “off.” 

Maybe if we turned toward our fear and befriended it, it ‘ll visit at times and take a rest at times, leaving us alone to rest.  If we push it away, ignore it, or slam the door in its tender little face, it only grows stronger and nags more.  It’s here.  It’s part of me and for the rest of my life, it will show up at different times in varying ways. 

When I deny my fear, it comes out sideways, in snarky comments, or bigger blasts of rage. 

Fear is tender.  It needs tender care and gentle respect.  I’ve never thought so compassionately about this bit of me I’d rather not have. 

Don’t talk yourself out of fear too quickly.  Sit with it and ask what it wants you to know. (*Please take care of yourself as you consider making this inquiry.  If you find yourself getting more agitated or traumatized, find someone to talk it through with - a counselor or trusted friend who can provide a safe space).  If it feels ok and safe enough, go ahead and explore: 

If fear runs away with you (as it is very good at!), keep it in healthy dialogue:
  • Is that really true?  If it is, is there an action I can take so I don’t feel helpless?
  • Do I know without a doubt how this will end?  I cannot know, so I can breathe with that truth.
  • What’s true in this moment, right here?  Can I ground myself into this present moment?  I can, because I’ve found ways to do this all my life, despite fearful things near and far. ​

Is it wrong to take this time to sit and get to know your fear?  No!  It’s medicine that helps calm your being so you can continue to be, first and foremost.  Maybe so you could be helpful in some way when the time is right – you’re not helpful when you’re running around in a panic.  We need our energy for when the panic meets us at the door so we can face it then.  Until the moment when action must be taken, let’s foster the energy reserves.  Get to know this part of ourselves so it doesn’t catch us off guard or leave us vulnerable to those who prey upon our fear. 

What if we were to not silence, dismiss, or push away our fear?  What if, for a bit, we didn’t cover it over with anger?  Don’t get me wrong – the anger is also warranted and has information for us, but for now I’m curious about peeling it back to see what’s underneath.  My guess is you’ll find your anger rises out of deep caring, and you’re worried or terrified for yourself, for loved ones, or for people you don’t even know.  For our planet and all of its inhabitants.  For the future we’re leaving our children and grandchildren. 

So, I admit I’m scared.  I’m too tired to pretend to be strong all the time (and p.s., even strong people get scared).  I don’t need to be strong all the time.  I can’t be.  We often think being fearless means we can’t feel afraid or that somehow, we miraculously have no fear, when in reality, courage is feeling the fear and showing up anyway.  I think probably we’re stronger when we allow our humanness to be exposed.  Vulnerability can connect us.  So, I admit I’m feeling scared these days.  The particulars of my fear aren’t the point. 
​ 
If you’re scared too, can we just sit together, hold one another for a while?  We won’t cower away forever, but can we just give ourselves a little respite of honesty and be afraid together?  Because we’re not wrong to feel this fear, and maybe it won’t consume us if we can sit with it every now and again.  Shall we give it a try?  Somehow sensing “me too” leaves me feeling a little less alone and gives me the courage to go on.  

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Love's Wishes

1/10/2025

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PictureImage by Jill Wellington from Pixabay
I know this is a hard month for many of us with fires and wars raging, outrageous things being said, outrageous things happening. There are a lot of crises and you may be experiencing pain.  Maybe, like me, you're feeling worry and anxiety about the future that lies ahead.  Welcome you to this moment, just as you are. 
 
In this time of darkness, this season of hibernation, slowing down, and going within, I offer tenderness, gentleness, compassion, and an invitation for you to receive.  
 
A beautiful song came on my playlist and I knew I wanted it to be my next note to you all: Find the Light sung by David Ramirez.    “I wish upon you peace… but most of all I wish upon you love.” There's so much I wish for you, but nothing more I could wish upon you than love.  ❤️❤️
 
Take a few moments to listen to this heartfelt offering of love.  Close your eyes and take it into your heart.  What does it stir?  Even if you're in a dark time or place, how does this land?  
 
Find The Light
written by Rene Ramirez
I wish upon you peace
I wish upon you grace
I wish for less of what you want
And more of what you need
 
I wish upon you an old light
With a heart that stays young
But most of all I wish upon you love
 
I wish upon you truth
When all you feel is doubt
I hope you know that an open mind
Still knows when to shut things out
I wish upon you a brave heart
that will always rise above
But most of all I wish upon you love
 
Cause as the sun sets, well
the moon begins to rise
So even in the darkness
you'll find the light
 
You'll find the light I wish upon you an easy life
I wish upon you hard times
I hope you know that both joy and pain
Each need their moment to shine
I wish you ears that are quick to listen
That you're slow to use that tongue
But most of all I wish upon you love
 
Cause as the sun sets, well
the moon begins to rise
So even in the darkness
you'll find the light
 
You'll find the light Oh now even in the darkness
you'll find the light
 
As I talked with a friend the other day, it became clear just how very harsh I was being with myself, even when there was no good reason. So I started reading my messages from Love aloud to her.  Often in my morning journaling I ask the question Liz Gilbert introduced me to, “Love what would you have me know?”  Tears streamed as I read and let my heart receive Love's tenderness and generosity. Somehow even though the words come through my pen, they feel like they come from a greater force beyond myself.  
   
 
I thought maybe you'd appreciate some of these too, since I don't think I'm the only one who gets down on herself, feels overwhelmed from time to time, or gets caught up in worry.  You'll let me know if I'm wrong, right? 😊
 
So, here we go, some wishes from Love to you:
 
✨ One breath.  One moment.  Move at that pace.  It's enough.  Just be present.  Be with yourself honestly, openly, with that beautiful open heart.  Honor and tend to yourself through it all.  You are so brave, so honest, to face things head on when you can and listen for the moment of opening.  You don't have to blast the doors down…in your own time, my darling.  Held in love. Always.  
 
💕 Beloved, keep following your heart.  Keep loving - yourself and your people, well.  Take very exquisite care of your body, your heart - rest as needed.  Take breaks.  Don't push.  Gentle, gentle, baby.  You need and deserve gentle, my beloved.  You have a lot going on - out there and in your being.  In your tender heart especially.  It has an effect on everything.  Don't underestimate that, beloved.  You can do this, but you need mindful presence and tending.  Paying attention.  Give to yourself at least as much as you give to others.  Fill up to overflowing.  Let yourself be loved.  


💜 Live and grieve in your way, in your time, my darling.  Allow the joy, peace, sadness, and grief to all swim together in you and around you as they will.  Your way is unique and allows others their way - no right or wrong.  Release the worry of what others will think.  Just be you, be with you, and know that that is perfect, beloved.  Release expectations and live into the moments as they come.  Be present.  Be real.  Allow it all…the nostalgia, the longing will be here too.  It's ok.  There's room for it all.  The heart knows the way to hold it all, my dear.  

❤️ Cherish the moments, darling.  You know how precious and sacred they are, for sure.  Don't miss them.  Be here for them, and beloved, tend to yourself well along the way.  Breathe with life and let life breathe with you.  Feel how your heart really can hold it all?  Because it can.  It's amazing, and it's how you humans are built - it just takes some time and experience to really feel it.  The heart's capacity and the human capacity is immense and too often untapped, limited by your stories and beliefs.  But when you feel what's possible firsthand, you can give yourself more fully to life, and that's a beautiful thing.  Cry, scream, laugh, and be silent.  All is welcome here in this space, this reality of infinite, undying love. 
 
☮️ Stay in touch with your body.  Take good care of yourself as you move softly, gently, and discover what can be accomplished even in that energy.  It's a new way for you, and you'll be pleasantly surprised if you can fully allow yourself to experience it - to witness that it doesn't have to be hard or overwhelming or frenzied.  Let it be easy.  Let it be fun.  Let it be joyful work.  Why not?  
 
🩵 Oh my darling, slow it all down.  Breathe.  Go within.  Place your hand on your heart and hold yourself tenderly, lovingly.  Offer up all the love in the world to this tender heart, this tender soul that reels in the messy and harsh of life.  Breathe slowly, softly, ease-fully.  Take off that pressure you pile on yourself that you know isn't helpful or necessary - that only paralyzes you.  Soften.  Release. Gentle yourself, darling. 

 
 My invitations to you: 
💕 Have your own conversation with Love.  Take a little quiet time to sit with yourself.  Maybe place your hand upon your heart and ask, “Love, what would you have me know?” and see what comes.  You can freewrite, keeping your hand moving as words come to you and through you, or you can simply receive her messages to your heart. I find Love to be a mighty force of unconditional grace, tenderness, and generosity with so much wisdom to offer.  


✨ Join me for a mini retreat, Finding Hope Within on Monday, January 20th from 12-1:30 PM ET if you'd like a peaceful place to spend a little time.  We will gather over Zoom to step away from anything else that might be going on that day and turn toward our hearts and souls to be nourished and fortified for whatever life may ask of us in the days ahead.  

☮️ Take some time to meditate with me with Love, What Would You Have Me Know? 

What resonates with you?  What does Love have to say to you?  How might this support you in the coming days, weeks, year?  

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Why CompassioNATE Care?

8/18/2024

4 Comments

 
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It occurred to me that although I’ve been on a mission that has made and distributed over 450 CompassioNate Care Bags since August 2023, I haven’t talked a lot about why this mission means so much to me.  I’m assuming you can tell that issues of mental health, substance use, and homelessness are important to me and that compassion and kindness are my jam.  But why?
 
​Our Story - What We Didn't Know and What We've Learned
💕 Before our beautiful son, Nate, passed on March 29, 2023 just shy of his 30th birthday, we had gone through 14 years of pain, struggle, challenge, as a result of substance use and other serious mental health challenges on top of a lifetime of school struggles.  Life for us, and particularly for Nate, was beyond hard.  In those 14 years, despite our love and efforts to help him, there were too many times he struggled with homelessness in part because Tom and I didn’t know what we know now.  
 
We didn’t understand that his behaviors were serving him in some way, even though there were so many negative consequences taking a toll on him and us.  We didn’t know that ambivalence, especially when one is considering a gigantic change like recovery, is super normal and not a reflection of his desire to get better or how much he cared about himself or us. We didn’t know that there were ways to recover other than traditional treatment, 12 step programs, or abstinence – all things he had tried and “failed” at, giving him more things to beat himself up for.  These are the lost “tough love years” which I grieve along with grieving his death.
 
Not only were we lacking in knowledge, understanding, and guidance, but because we hadn’t yet found the Invitation to Change and had never heard of peer support, recovery coaching, or harm reduction, we were misinformed about addiction and misguided about our role and ability to help.  We hadn’t yet met other parents who had found healthy ways to be in relationship with their kid or professionals who knew effective ways for families to recover together.  We believed we needed to let him (or make him) hit rock bottom, we shouldn’t help him for fear of enabling, and we were powerless.  
 
Society’s prevailing messages convinced us that trying to detach was what love required of us.  The chaos in our lives was painful, harmful, and ineffective for us all.  Not only did tough love not help Nate’s recovery, it took away his family support and put him in survival mode which only contributed to his cycle of shame, use, more shame, and more use.  It hacked away at our relationship, broke trust on both sides, and put Nate in situations where he experienced trauma we’ll never know about.
 
In the times when he couldn’t live with us and didn’t know where to turn, various people - friends, family, professionals, and strangers - stepped in as angels on earth, helping him make it one more hour, one more day, and possibly 11 more years than he might have had otherwise.  I am forever grateful for the people who turned toward him in his times of despair, letting him know he wasn’t alone, that someone cared, and that he and his life mattered.  I am deeply grateful for those who extended kindness, care, compassion, and a hand up when he felt desperately lost, and we didn’t know what to do.
 
Paying it Forward with Gratitude
💕 That love and those people fuel my intention with the beautiful bright CompassioNate Care Bags as one way to pay it forward.  My husband, friends, and I load up these bags with niceties (pens, notebooks, and a little money) and necessities (resource numbers, personal care items, clothing, food, and drug testing strips and Naloxone) to spread this ripple of love to people, our community members, who may be feeling lost and alone.  My friend, Chris Abert, from the NY Recovery Alliance, says, “Yours may be the last interaction a person has.  Be kind.” Makes good sense to me.
 
Doing What We Can
💕 I’m embarrassed to admit the times I struggled with what to do when I saw a person sitting alongside a building or standing on a corner with a sign asking for help.   One December, in NYC I saw a person bundled in dirty blankets, sitting on cardboard outside Macy’s with a sign declaring, “You don’t even see me.”  Oooph!  That hit my heart hard.  They weren’t wrong – thousands of people looked away as they went on with their shopping and window-gazing. 
 
Though I always felt a tug to help, I was afraid to offer money for fear they’d use it for drugs or alcohol.  Why did I care?  I’m not in charge of that.  Maybe they’ll get a McDonald’s meal, a cup of coffee and a donut, and they’ll be a tad more comfortable for a little bit.  Maybe they won’t, but I don’t have to assume the worst. Far too many times I’ve looked away and moved past someone in need, my heart breaking, feeling powerless and lamely excusing myself with, “You can’t help everyone.”  No, I can’t help everyone, but I can do what I can.
 
Everyone is Someone's Child
💕 Knowing that any one of these people in need could be my son and remembering that they are someone’s child, I now look at people and see their humanity.  Not too long after Nate died, I pulled off the highway and noticed a man staggering by the railing, looking as if he might fall over.  I stopped, rolled down the window, held out my hand and offered a snack, some money, and a card with Nate’s picture, some encouraging messages and local resource numbers on it.  I looked this man in the eye, and said, “This is for you.  My son died.  I don’t want that to happen to you.  Here are some numbers and some things for you.”  He asked my son’s name, I told him, and he kindly offered his prayers for us. I pulled away sobbing, heart breaking open, somehow knowing this was only the beginning.
 
A Collective Effort Honoring a Legacy of Love
💕 These care bags are created with so much generous support from others.  They provide a chance to offer a little kindness, to see and reach out to our neighbors in need.  One of the things I love most about Nate is that no matter how little he had or how hard he was struggling, he always thought of others, shared what he had, and did what he could for people who were struggling.  This project keeps his legacy of love and caring alive.  I am deeply grateful to the hundreds of people who have donated items, cash, time, and energy to help reach and serve people in need with over 450 bags that have been gifted in the Rochester area and beyond!

❤️I am deeply grateful to RAW Recovery, the NY Recovery Alliance, and Samadhi who have helped me include critical harm reduction supplies in these bags.  Please consider supporting these organizations in the compassionate, vital work they are doing.  

 
What it's been Like
💕 My friend, Cheri, who has jumped onboard with boundless passion, has so many beautiful stories to share – taking  Leo for coffee, learning he’s an artist and buying his beautiful painting of a moon; seeing a woman collapsed on the sidewalk, pulling over, grabbing Narcan from a bag and reversing an overdose. Cheri regularly looks for people in need, asks them if they’re hungry, if they need water, and encourages them to call home as she hands them her phone.  She gives hugs freely and meets people where they are, as they are.  We don’t know how things play out, but we know in these moments a genuine heart-to-heart, soul-to-soul connection has been made.  
 
Another friend carries bags with her, hands them out at lights, and wonders about the stories of the folks she reaches. People share how surprised and grateful recipients are to be seen and treated kindly.  Some volunteers have enhanced the bags with an apple, another snack bar, a little more money, or some clothing they’d otherwise leave sitting in a drawer unused.  They have chats with people they are meeting and sometimes share a hug.
 
This project benefits both the giver and the receiver!  Our volunteers are people who don’t typically work in street outreach - people who want to make a difference, to do something, and haven’t known how.  These bags offer a relatively easy and meaningful way to make a direct impact to a person in need who often feels invisible or scorned.

If I'm in a funk, nothing lifts me like being able to share a heart-to-heart connection, a smile, and a little offering of compassion and kindness.  

 
If You'd Like to Be Part of the CompassioNate Care Mission
💕 Each bag costs between $20-25 because they are chock full of goodness.  If you’d like to be part of the CompassioNate Care mission, there are a variety of ways you can join in. Find what feels good, right, and doable to you, whether that’s shopping for items directly from the wish list, sending donations that allow me to shop and fulfill my commitment, or by being one of the people to carry these bright bags and hand them out with a smile and a blessing when there’s an opportunity!  Thank you to those who’ve helped me so far and thank you to those who’d like to jump in now!
 
And to all of us, may we be beacons of light, hope, and kindness in a world that is desperately in need.   
 
✨Here's how to help create CompassioNATE Care Bags ✨

We last put together 142 bags to hand out in the Rochester area in June - our magical number of 111 plus 31 for his 31st birthday.    I anticipate assembling our next batch this fall, sometime between Thanksgiving and Christmas.  
 
🌟 Each bag has a card in it with Nate's picture, encouraging messages, and resource numbers to support people in finding the support they need. 

🌟 It's easy to contribute!  I've created a wishlist which is open for ongoing donations to make it easy for anyone from anywhere to contribute the items we need.  
 
🌟 Cash donations: We could also use cash donations - these help me to buy what's missing and to put a $5 cash in each bag.  You can contribute in this way through Venmo - @Barbara-Klein-25.  Simply note “Care Bags” to let me know to direct your goodwill to this effort.  

🌟 Want to send loving encouragement? If you'd like to write some notes of love, care, and encouragement to be included in the bags, please mail them to me at PO Box 612, Livonia, NY 14487 - send them any time, I will include them in the next batch we put together. 

🌟 Willing to help hand out bags?  I'm looking for people in the Rochester area to carry bags with them and hand out when they see people in need. Contact me if you're willing to be one of these people! 

 🌟Want to help this mission grow? Maybe you live outside the Rochester area or you're part of a group that would like to assemble and distribute bags - I'm happy to help you get started.  Just e-mail me and I can share with you what I've done and help you get the resource number cards with Nate's picture and messages on the front.  I'm very grateful to my friend, Judy, for helping bring some cards and bags to the Albany area in our first large-scale out of area effort!  

Let's open our hearts and spread some compassion this summer! You can help to spread some light, warmth, and love to those who need it most.
 
Thank you so much for your consideration! The journey continues! The love lives on!

Many thanks to News 8 for covering this effort in a short story in June.  You can watch here. 

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Tending Your Heart

2/19/2024

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PictureImage by Kevin McIver from Pixabay
Guest blog by Heather Ross
Some events are so impactful that they create a distinct before and after in the timeline of your life. The events that unfolded in the second half of 2021 forever altered the landscape of my existence. Within just 6 months I was diagnosed and treated for breast cancer, including a double mastectomy, my divorce was finalized (resulting in the loss of crucial medical insurance which I needed for future treatments), and my 21-year-old daughter Helanna passed away from an overdose.
 
I realize this is a grim way to start a blog post, but surprisingly, the intensity of those experiences led me to a profound perspective shift and opened my life to new possibilities.  Has it been easy? No! But I want you to know what’s possible, even after facing such huge challenges. 
 
When I was in high school a friend and I were sitting on the front of a pontoon boat enjoying the refreshing breeze as her father was driving us to a restaurant on the lake.  A water skier made a massive wave that caused the front of our boat to dip in the water. My friend and I were deep in the lake before we knew what happened. At first, I panicked, disoriented because I didn’t have time to take a deep breath.  Then I stilled myself and waited to see if I floated up. Once I figured out which way was up, I also noticed the sunlight, and I swam toward it as fast as I could so I could take a deep breath and fill my lungs with oxygen again. 
 
Unlike this boating accident, the events of 2021 left me disoriented with no buoyancy to help me float.  There was no light to guide me to the surface so I could breathe again. I felt like I had lost everything. My mind relentlessly told me everything I had worked on for the first 49 years of my life had failed and I had no future. The grief from breast cancer, divorce, and losing Helanna sometimes felt like drinking from a fire hose, flooding me and taking me down.
 
I consider myself to be resilient, and before this time, when an area of my life collapsed, I built it back up better and stronger, but losing my daughter tested my strength in every way imaginable. I couldn’t imagine ever having the strength to face a future without her, so the painful thoughts intensified, becoming more and more believable.
  
I also started noticing memories that had not bothered me before my daughter passed away suddenly became traumatic, and I couldn’t understand why. After struggling on my own for a while, I sought EMDR (Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing) therapy to help me process my traumatic memories.   EMDR encourages the patient to briefly focus on the trauma memory while simultaneously experiencing bilateral stimulation (typically eye movements), which reduces the vividness and emotion associated with trauma memories, calming the nervous system.
 
Trauma is not only about the event itself. It is also about what happens inside us in response to the event. Trauma can be caused by any event that we experience as emotionally distressing, not just life-threatening events. The loss of my daughter made me feel very unsafe. I became preoccupied with thinking about the other horrible things that could happen. The more I thought about bad things happening the more unsafe I felt.  It was a vicious cycle.
 
Trauma's impact extends beyond the event itself and infiltrates our thoughts, emotions, and memories. Our brains work in a think-feel-act cycle.  We have a thought.  That thought releases chemicals that we feel as an emotion in our body, and emotions lead us to action. Beliefs come from thoughts we think repeatedly. Our thoughts and beliefs affect our memories because our memories aren’t fixed.  Each time we retrieve a memory we can distort it. 
 
Over time a memory can become more about your thoughts and judgments about the memory than the actual memory. When trauma is involved, we distort our memories even more in what is called memory amplification. We change our recollection of our past, essentially changing our past. In this case we are making the past worse than it was.  Changing our past affects how we perceive the present moment, and it can change our future because of the state of being we’re creating in this process. 

This explains why my memories that weren’t traumatic previously became traumatic after my daughter passed away. Every time I retrieved those memories, I loaded the trauma with my judgments and feelings of guilt, grief, despair, hopelessness, and shame. I wasn’t aware I was distorting my memories until I started sorting it all out with EMDR.
The original feelings associated with certain memories had been written over, as if I had made changes to a Word document, and saved a newer, harsher version. The more times I retrieved the memories, the more painful they got.  I was changing the feelings associated with the memories and what I made them mean about me. I started seeing myself differently – it was painful and it felt very true.
 
After an EMDR session where my counselor helped me peel away the layers of a highly charged memory of a conversation with my daughter, a lightbulb struck!  For the first time I saw how I had changed my memories. The main emotion I had been swimming in with my memory before EMDR was shame. After EMDR, that feeling transformed to love for my daughter.  Suddenly I could see the real picture and I could feel being with my daughter in that heartfelt moment again. I felt proud of how I supported her during that conversation, and I deeply felt the love between us as we talked.
 
This is where I got curious. If I had changed my past, present, and future by changing my memories in a way that was hurting me, maybe I could harness that power to create a positive healing experience instead. When I retrieve memories now, I include loads of compassion and understanding so I don’t keep traumatizing myself. Compassion and understanding are keys to unlocking healing.
 
My new perspective has me thinking about the possibility of building a beautiful future. I don’t know what my future will look like yet, but opening to the possibility that it will be filled with love and fulfillment rather than being dominated by pain and loss is the first step to creating it.
 
It’s not about sidestepping the pain of the void left by my daughter’s physical absence from my life.  It’s about living with all that’s here and all that’s possible. I have an ache in my heart for my daughter and my life is beautiful because of my deep appreciation for every joyful experience and every moment with the people I love.
 
Want to hear more about this experience?  Listen to Heather's podcast here!  

Here's a meditation I recorded to go along with this post: Tending Your Heart.  Lean in.  You deserve your own tender care.  


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Heather Ross is the mother of a child who struggled with Substance Use Disorder, A Family Recovery Coach, Invitation to Change Certified, CRAFT trained, and the host of the popular podcast called Living with Your Child’s Addiction.

Heather offers a program for parents that is compassionate, family-centered, based on science, and teaches parents how to create their own peace of mind whether their child is in recovery or still using substances. She believes parents have more power than they realize and the best gift they can give their child is a healthy parent.

When Heather is not helping other parents, she enjoys spending time in nature with her dogs, going to sound baths on the beach, traveling, and creating beautiful memories with friends and family. 

You can find out more about Heather and her offerings by visiting Heather Ross Coaching.  
Here's Heather's free "A New Perspective about Enabling" 
​
Listen to the Living with Your Child's Addiction Podcast

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Going On...Even when Life is Forever Changed

5/5/2023

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PictureImage by Dorothe from Pixabay
Nine years ago, I had just begun writing a beautiful little book of healing poems and prayers, or rather I should say I was being woken up by words that compelled me to get up and write them down.  The writing was helping me to process life, and I thought the book was going to be called “Garden of Inspiration.”  About 6 months in, it became clear that that title did not embody all that wanted to be written.  That life was more than just sunshine and rainbows, and people needed to feel not alone even in the dark, horrible, scary, and sad times.  The subtitle for what would become 111 Invitations, “Step into the Full Richness of Life” was born.  It’s a not-so-cute phrase to reflect that sometimes life is horribly painful and sometimes beautifully wonderful and a lot of times kind of just meh… and all of it is part of this human experience we seem to have signed up for.  

Last year after one of my closest friends, Mary Lally, died on Christmas Eve, I wrote about grief, trying to capture the grace and pain of it.  When I wrote Good Grief, Gratitude and Grace and Swimming in the Messy Stages of Grief, I thought I knew what I was talking about.  Maybe I did for that particular grief journey.  However, I am learning that grief takes many forms and shows up in surprising and profoundly non-linear ways.  It’s slow, it’s sneaky, it’s exhausting and intense, and it permeates everything at times (much like pepper juice on half a pizza that seeps over and tarnishes the whole thing).  

In the past 14 years, I’ve navigated a journey that has been deeply challenging and has brought a lot of grief, along with a huge amount of deep and enduring love.  That love continues even though on March 29th, our beautiful son, Nate died.  The pain from this loss is unlike any I’ve ever experienced and as many people in my life have reflected, “It’s unimaginable.”  In the beginning the shock carried and protected us pretty well, getting us through the tasks that had to be handled immediately.  And at the same time, the sense of sacredness landed in my heart as a clear truth - we didn’t have to rush to decide about many things.  We could wait to create a service in a way and at a time that felt right to us.  We did not need to conform to societal norms (Nate never did, so why should we!?) despite pressure from several of his friends who understandably wanted to pay their respects and memorialize him in some way.  

Go ahead and do what you will, I told them.  I can’t do this for you, and anything other than keeping my circle really close and small right now would have wrecked me.  I pondered whether there might be value in grieving in community and maybe we should have a service sooner, but we were not ready yet.  Even now, much remains unclear, and we will just take it one moment at a time. 
What I can say with confidence now that I’m living this dreaded life experience, is that the practices and teachings I’ve been living and sharing for the past decade really are working for me.  They have resourced me well and allowed me to somehow keep on going, to show up for life, to live, albeit with a lot of heartache and emptiness.  

I am so deeply grateful I am that we had found compassionate, kind, and loving ways to be in relationship with Nate over the past few years, that we had many honest, deep, and healing conversations.  There is no question for any of us how much love connected us all.  That is in large part thanks to a meditation practice which built the capacity to cultivate a heart that can hold it all,  expanded open-hearted compassion, and taught us to turn toward life as it is.  It’s also in large part a benefit of Recovery Coach training which helped us to understand addiction and recovery differently than we had in the past.  The Invitation to Change approach definitely helped us foster trust and a loving, respectful relationship.  Thank God we had that approach alive and well in our lives.  I cannot imagine the regret that would haunt me now had we not.  

Now to highlight a few of the things that have helped over the past decade (or longer) that continue to resource me now.  It would have been much harder to incorporate these things into my life now had I not cultivated them over time.  I believe they are always helpful and especially when there is one big thing that might consume our lives, whether that’s a child who struggles, work that takes over, a parent or loved one who requires our care.  There are big things that can begin to define us and our entire existence if we’re not aware.  When they do, it’s time to find a way back to ourselves.  

1. Getting Support - Though this list is very incomplete and the things I’m highlighting are interwoven and maybe this aspect couldn’t happen without the others, I think it’s clear to say up front that I could not be doing as well as I am through this grief without so much loving support.  I am glad that I have learned to ask for what I need, so when my sister asked whether she should come to be with me or not, I could clearly let her know that yes, I would like her to be here.  In the past there might have been more self-abandonment in not wanting to impose on her, denying my needs in order to accommodate what I imagined were hers.  

Knowing what kind of support and when I am open to receive has been critical.  If someone offered food or a healing session that I couldn’t accept in that moment, I’ve asked for rainchecks.  When the time was right, I asked friends to set up a Meal Train for us because we still don’t have the energy or focus to think about preparing meals.  People love to give, so I’ve allowed myself to receive and say, “thank you” without too much discomfort that I’m being self-centered and spoiled.  When I hit a wall from too much peopling, I give myself a break.  I’ve had to pace my interactions in order to honor my own bandwidth in this time.  Learning how to respect my own needs and capacity, even as I invite others to walk alongside me has been critical (I don’t think I could have learned it in real-time so I’m grateful for the years of self-care and focus on developing this skill which allow it to kick in in a time of crisis). 

Over the years I have been and seen others be “strong and independent”… putting off the vibe of the outstretched stop-sign hand, letting the world know, “I’m good.  I’ve got this” and then wondering why no one was offering love or support.  We, as a society, have become overly influenced by this idea of fierce independence and self-reliance.  We need each other to walk through life.  We need to open our arms and hearts and let others in when we’re struggling.  We need to understand that vulnerability is not a sign of weakness and that allowing others to show up and lend their service or their listening ear is a gift to you both.  

2. Pause - you’ve likely heard me tout the value of a pause a million times if you’ve been around for any time. The taking of a breath creates space for a supportive pause.  Even that split second gathering can be the difference between a less-than-well-crafted reaction and a more mindful response.  Practicing the pause over many years has allowed me to be gentler with myself in what is a huge pause now - allowing myself to step back and listen within to what I need and for guidance.  It’s in the pause that we access a deeper wisdom.  When we pause, we take life one moment at a time, which is really the only way to go.  When we don’t pause, we are often overtaken by fear which leads to reactivity and chaos.  In the pause, we gain a little perspective, a little space, a little breathing room.  

3. Self-Care is Vital - Renee Trudeau has taught me to slow down, quiet down, put my hands on my heart and ask, “How do I feel? What do I need?  What do I want?”  At first it felt foreign and awkward and sometimes my answer was “I have no idea…”  Over time this has become part of who I am and how I roll, thank goodness.  What this simple inquiry has allowed me to do in this time is to honor the needs and wants of my body, mind, heart, and spirit.  It has allowed me to respond to those needs and wants and to ask for help.  It’s allowed me pace myself, to honor the sacredness of this time and push aside any outside ideas or pressure of how this should go.

Self-care will look different, moment by moment.  Allowing this is critical.  Sometimes what’s needed is a nap, other times a phone call with a friend, a walk in the woods, or a good car scream!  It’s not formulaic, but rather arises out of the ability to tune in and listen to your own inner knowing.  I am deeply grateful for almost a decade of integrating this into my way of being - I could not have learned it in a time like this. 

4. Gentle Yourself - Many thanks to Jenna, a retreat participant years ago, for offering up this phrase and turning “gentle” into a verb.  As soon as I heard it, I knew what she meant.  Greet yourself with exquisite tenderness, kindness, and care - likely the way you would treat a beloved friend or child.  Often, we are most harsh with ourselves and gentling may not come naturally, but it is a profound gift when we can greet ourselves with compassion, love, and respect.  In times of deep grief or confusion, gentling allows us to be ok enough to keep showing up, one moment at a time.  

5. Honoring each Soul’s Journey - My son and I have always been deeply connected and certainly our lives were interwoven, yet several years ago, it became clear that they were also separate.  He had his path and I had mine.  Related, but distinct.  Not dependent on one another for our state of wellbeing.  It’s why I knew with every fiber of my being that I could, actually, be happier than my unhappiest child.  I would not lay that burden on him; I did not need him to be ok for me to be ok.  Thankfully my husband wisely articulated, “Yes, there’s love for him, but there’s also love for me, for us…” meaning we didn’t have to give it all away in an effort to save him.  We needed to live our life even while we loved him, supported him, and walked alongside him the best we could.  

Had my wellbeing been completely linked to his, I may well be totally devastated now, unable to imagine going on.  My heart is shattered, my life has a huge Nate-sized hole in it, and I often feel sick when I imagine forever without him in it.  And, I am going on.  I know I will find my way back to myself and into whatever this new reality becomes.  I will show up to life and live because we still have work to do, because I am determined to make our journey and his life and death matter.  

You too are more than the one thread that feels all-consuming. I promise.  Who are you beyond that?  It’s worth the time to explore.  To remember that you were a person before this thing came into your life, or even if your thing is something that’s been a part of you all your life, there’s more to you than just that.  Don’t let yourself be defined or boxed in by any one thing.  Stretch to see what more is here.  

6. Acceptance - NOT as in I’ve reached the (non-existent) final “stage” of grief, and I’ve got this, but rather an acceptance of what is here.  This goes along with #5 and also goes beyond.  Acceptance of what is, not being at war with reality, allows us to meet ourselves and our lives exactly as they are.  When we stop wishing that things were different (and believe me, I’ve never wished that more than these past 5 weeks), we can begin to live here and now with the qualities of truth and presence. This is what is.  Now what?  

Part of the acceptance that has guided me over these past many years was knowing that we could not save my son’s life.  That it wasn’t even our job to do so.  We could only love him as he is for as long as he’s here, but how long that was wasn’t up to us.  Accepting that limitation freed me to love him differently, less desperately.  It allowed us to have more honest conversations where we were each safe to share.  Accepting him as he was meant I didn’t need to impose on him what I thought he should be or how he should do things; at times I was able to consider his perspective, put myself in his shoes.  What I wanted wasn’t necessarily what he did.  I had to try to honor his autonomy and walk alongside him and try to avoid letting my fear throw me into a state of telling or yelling.  Acceptance allowed him to feel seen, heard, loved, and respected and allowed a softening in me toward his life and what the outcome might be.  

For months we’ve been pretty aware that we were watching our son die.  We did what we could to explore better supports and treatment.  We loved him fiercely.  And we also looked at quality of life, honoring that he’d prefer to live on his own, have a job, be able to write and record his music (which he did) than be in an inpatient facility, even if it would keep him safe and alive.  Acceptance allowed me to choose who I wanted to be and how I wanted to show up, even when I was terrified that he would die.  Acceptance allowed us to have a closer, more loving and trusting, open relationship than we would have otherwise.  And acceptance now allows each of us to grieve in our own way at a our time, knowing that we will need and want different things at different times.  Navigating together, but individually.  

7. Cultivating a Heart that can Hold It All - this is a phrase I first heard from Buddhist meditation teacher, Tara Brach, and it’s one I’ve taken to heart ever since.  It’s the idea that seemingly contradictory states of being can coexist in a way that the mind can’t make sense of but the heart can.  It requires us to get away from black and white, either/or, all or nothing thinking and to recognize that even in the most painful times, there is also beauty, peace, and joy.  Making room in our hearts for it all to be there is exquisite, because it’s already all there anyway.  Often, we are just overly focused on one or the other, squeezing one out because it doesn’t seem to fit, adding to our suffering by not allowing ourselves the full richness of this human experience.  

A meditation practice that invites us to sit with the breath, to notice what we’re noticing, but not need to rush to fix or change it, helps us to develop this capacity to be with all of life.  To turn toward even the pain and discomfort, to sit in it, not needing to rush past.  

There are times when I’m sick and tired of this grief thing that has landed like a cloak on our world, and I’d like to just get on, get “back to normal,” but at a deeper level I know there is no going back. There is no normal any more.  I can only go forward into what is next, and as exhausting and uncomfortable as it is, I don’t want to bypass the divinely human experience of a deep grief that reflects a profound loss and a deep love.  

At times I’ve wondered if I’m doing this wrong because I see people look at me, expecting that I will be devastated all the time - how could I not be?  I’ve lost my child.  But I’m not.  I mean, I’m on the verge of tears most of the time, thoughts of Nate and the ache and longing to hold him one more time don’t ever go away, but I can also take in the beauty of a magnolia bloom, laugh with a friend, find comfort in mindless TV, sleep at night, and be grateful for the lack of worry that comes with knowing where he is.  When I think of forever without him, I get punched in the gut with a wave of nausea, I lose my breath… and so I ride that wave.  I allow it to be here (because, as we’ve already acknowledged, it is here) without pushing it away.  If I get sick and tired of saying the same things over and over again (which I do), I allow the sick and tired.  It’s amazing how much our hearts can hold if only we allow them to.  

8. Gratitude - I have been practicing gratitude for at least 12 years now and it truly has changed my experience of life.  (You can check out the research on how gratitude actually rewires our brains).  It hasn’t changed my life circumstances, because most of those are out of my control.  But it has changed how I walk through life, what I focus on, what I notice.  Gratitude is one of the simplest things you can weave into your life.  In any moment you can pause, get quiet, look around and notice what you’re grateful for.  Whether you speak it out loud, write it down, or simply notice, take a moment to breathe it in to your being.  What does it feel like to feel grateful?  Where in your body do you notice it?  

I notice a softening and expansion in my heart, a fullness and deepening of my breath, a broadening of my perspective in that moment of “oh yes… this is here too.”  The more we look for things to appreciate in life, the more it becomes part of who we are.  Every day I take photos of beauty, inside and outside my home.  It’s part of my gratitude.  I also reflect every evening on what I’m grateful for over the course of the day.  Sometimes I pause and reflect in the morning before I get out of bed.  I’m grateful the sun came up again, and I have one more day.  I’m grateful for my tears which give me the natural release for this grief.  I’m grateful for the friends who let me carry on and share my raw feelings with them.  I’m grateful for the birds singing outside my window, the sunlight, the stunning beauty of the sky and sunset, the fresh burst of blooms that remind me of new life, even in the presence of death.  

9. A Huge Dose of Grace and Self-Compassion is always of benefit.  

That’s what I have to offer today, 5 weeks into the most profound grief of my life.  I’m here.  I’m still me even as me is forever changed.  The core of who I am and what I know have been deeply impacted by this loss, and yet they carry me still.   
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I hope that maybe there’s something here you can bring into your life to help carry you when times get hard as well as when things are flowing smoothly.  I’d love to hear what resonates with you or what challenges you.  Please share in the comments or drop me a note.  I may not reply right away (or even at all) - that’s part of gentling myself right now.  But you reading and responding always matters.  Thanks for being here as we walk this human journey in all its richness.  

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Carrying Pain

2/19/2023

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Pain.  Fear.  Worry.  I’m noticing lots of us don’t know what to do with these very human, and very uncomfortable experiences.  Many of us have been conditioned to push through pain.  We don’t understand or don’t want to sit with it.  After all, we live in a culture that says things like, “No pain, no gain!” (Which, by the way I call bullshit on!). 

If we allow it, our pain informs us.  It tells us when something is wrong.  It lets us know we need some loving care.  It begs us to rest and regroup - to nurture ourselves until we’re ready to consider what to do. 

We all carry pain.  One of the elements of mindful self-compassion is common humanity, reminding us all humans suffer.  It’s part of our shared human experience, not a sign of weakness and not something that happens to you alone. 

I have found myself living with some really heavy pain mixed with a lot of fear lately.  At times I’ve found myself feeling flat and dull like a cardboard shirt liner.  Some days it’s a slog to simply do the next thing.  Other days I compartmentalize a bit and put the painful stuff aside to enjoy being with myself or with a friend.  One thing I know for sure is the more I’m able to express or share my pain, the less burdened I feel. 

When we try to carry it alone, giving it nowhere to go, no release, no expression, no tears or screams, it eats us up inside.  It comes out - always - just maybe not in a healthy way.  Sideways, misdirected, harmful. 

What Helps
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What helps me in these times is to talk about it with someone who simply listens without trying to fix or advise.  It helps me to write about it.  It helps me to cry, even if the tears come from an unrelated song or movie.  It helps to get outdoors and look for beauty.  Because what’s scaring me is so outside my control, it helps to find what I can control - picking one small task and seeing it through (I’m talking super small, like getting a load of laundry through the dryer or wiping down one kitchen counter). 

I’m learning to be with my pain, and to not be with it alone.  Give it space.  Give it voice before its pressure builds up and blows, before I become so numb that I hide away and lose myself to the world. 

Where did we learn to believe we have to be OK all the time?  That it’s weak to admit we’re hurting or scared?  Maybe from parents who held it all together as they went through hard times.  Parents who did what they had to do to get through, who weren’t raised to talk about their sorrows or hardships and didn’t know how to care for themselves.  Maybe from a world that feels hard and harsh - a world that instructs us to hide our tears and “get over” our grief. 

                     Pain carried alone is like poison, slowly taking us down. 

What if we faced pain together?  

As we face our scary realities, I wonder what might happen if we can each let down our armor.  Maybe we can be afraid together.  Maybe in that fear, we can break through - maybe shared vulnerability will help us face what we need to in a realistic way.  Maybe.  Maybe if we trusted one another to be honest and open about what’s going on, we can face it together.  Maybe if we stopped pretending we’re OK, maybe if we’d open our hearts to one another, take a breath, slow down long enough to be really real, maybe then we’d get somewhere.  Stop pushing, stop running and let ourselves break down to break through. 

Maybe we need to stop jumping too quickly to problem-solving and let ourselves admit just how scared we are first.  Maybe we can admit we don’t know what’s coming or how things can change, and then uncover some fresh ideas.  What if we could learn from each other’s fears as we share our own?  Can we come together to find a way forward?  It seems worth a shot. 

Hurt people hurt people.  Let’s be people who are healing to help others heal.  It will take some time.  We have time.  It’s always better to slow things down than to try to operate from a place of reactivity.  Our pain and our problems deserve our time, our attention, our love, and our full presence.  Especially when things feel really dire.  In those moments, may we open our hearts to one another, let our whole selves come through, and come together to find our way on.    
 
To the One Who is Hurting
by Barb Klein
 
To you, Dear One,
                The one who’s not doing as well
                as you’d like the world to believe,
I see you
I feel for you
I know what it’s like -
                to armor up and soldier on
                to put on a smile when you feel empty inside
                to feel lost and alone, and oh, so scared
Where do you turn?
How do you let it out     
                so you don’t carry this unbearable weight
                alone?
Please let yourself let down
                some way, somewhere…
Please…
Don’t carry this alone. 
It will tear you up inside
And leave you as destroyed
                as the one you worry about.
Please, find someone -
                let someone walk by your side.
You don’t have to pretend to be OK.
Really.
In each of us there lies a secret pain -
                too big to let out, we fear,
                afraid it will take over the moment it’s revealed
You are not alone.
You are one of thousands of millions,
                pretending to be OK,
                shoving it down, this poisonous pain,
                burying it away,
                hurting and hurting and hurting some more.
Let it out.
Let someone in.
You do not have to carry this alone.
When pain is shared
                it becomes less heavy -
                perhaps.
Perhaps a new possibility might arise…
                if not, at least you can face it -
                together.
It’s too much for one person to bear, this poisonous pain.
I see you
I feel you
I’ve been there (just yesterday, in fact)
I wrap you in a love that reminds you -
                You do not suffer alone
Let’s carry this together
                as we step into this day,
Not pretending we’re OK 
It’s OK
We’ll go on and find our way
Somehow
Some way
We will get through another day
 
Gentle yourself in whatever way you need.  Rest when you need to. Know that pain doesn't have to be pushed through and that it's not weak to ask for help.  Cry.  Scream.  Write.  Whatever works for you to get out any pain you're holding.  Let it out, get it out so that it doesn't tear you up inside. Please offer yourself tons of grace.  Find your own version of what helps.  

And if, in this moment, you're feeling peaceful, relaxed and full of joy!  Great!! Soak that in - breathe it in to your bones so you remember you can find this feeling when you need it.  

As always, please meet yourself with kindness, gentleness, tenderness, and compassion.  And know that you are not alone. 

I offer you this meditation, In Painful Times, as a practice to support you.  

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Learning in the Tough Times

1/25/2023

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On a recent visit with my son in the hospital, taking in how serious things were, I did not hide my concern. It showed in the frown on my face and in the tears just waiting to be released. I held his hand and gazed at him…

He didn’t want to talk much about it, because he gets tired of so much focus on him and it.  So, he asked me, “How are you?”  “Concerned,” I answered, not wanting to dodge the seriousness of this time. 

“But, how are YOU?”  he pressed. OK, I'll play.  How AM I? 

It’s a great question, because of course how he is affects how I am, AND it’s not the whole of me.  It’s not my only answer.  At times (and these crises are some of those times), I am more consumed with him and his life than I’d like to be.  It can overshadow my life and take up most of my energy.  At times.  But not all the time. This reminds me of a piece I wrote years ago, “Can You Be OK Even When “Things” Aren’t?” 

So, I appreciated his invitation to reflect on myself.  To check in… I don’t know.  How am I?  How’s my body, mind, heart and soul?  It reminded me where I end and he begins.  I don’t have to morph into his (or anyone else’s) reality.  I get to have my own experience of life.  In this moment, we’re both ok.  That’s all I really know along with knowing I have no idea how long that will last. 

Since then, I’ve noticed how quickly my answer to this question changes.  Within any given 24 hours, my reality is vastly different from moment to moment.  Life moves and shifts and morphs constantly, and it’s up to me whether I keep myself stuck in any given place for longer than I need.  Sometimes when things come at us fast and furious, piling up one after the other, it doesn’t feel like a choice.  And maybe it isn’t in those times.  Maybe then all we can do is get through, somehow, to the other side. 

This morning as I write and consider this simple yet complex question of how I am, I’ll say, I’m tired.  I didn’t sleep well because I was too busy beating myself up for a good bit of the last 18 hours.  My stomach feels queasy.  My head aches because my brain has been way to busy mulling over, and over, and over the events I got myself caught up in yesterday.  I’m pissed at myself for ignoring (no, steam-rollering over) my intuition and gut as they screamed at me, “This isn’t right.  It makes no sense.”  I did it anyway. 

The “what” in this case has nothing to do with my son.  What it is isn’t important - let’s just say it’s one of those things that causes me to feel so many things… all bundled up in a big old ball of shame, embarrassment (I definitely should have known better), and self-flagellation.  Mired in the shitty shame spiral. 

I’m working to move through it.  What’s done is done.  I’ve done what I can to clean up the mess and try to prevent any further problems.  Turning toward what I did and taking responsibility was definitely step one.  It’s still bugging me.  I find I need to keep on talking myself through this.  Reminding myself.  That’s over.  You’ve done what you can, and now you just need to wait and see how it plays out.  There’s nothing more to do right now.  You, as much as anyone else, deserves your kindness and forgiveness.  Last night I offered myself a loving kindness blessing for peace, happiness, safety, health, and ease.  Then I inhaled “breathe in sleep” and exhaled “breathe out stress…” I guess it worked, at least for awhile - until I woke up again too early and my mind kicked into its incessant spin. 

This thing I did robbed me of too much time and energy yesterday.  I really don’t want it to continue weighing me down and interfering with things I need to and want to do.  I didn’t even do the dishes last night after being on a 100% roll for the past week.  When things like that start to slip, I know I’m in too deep to some kind of something that I need to get out of.  And I know that I’m the only one who can set me free.   

Why is it so hard to be kind, compassionate, and forgiving with ourselves?  Why do we latch onto these things that we’ve done wrong, tempted to have them forever define us as “a terrible person” or someone who never gets anything right?  Why do I have these struggles? I don’t know if you do or not! 

Today I get to choose.  Do I keep spinning and swimming in the muck, or do I continue to notice the bad feeling when it rises back up and move forward anyway?  I am choosing - to journal as a way to process all of this, to take a bath and try to imagine this ick washing down the drain, to sing some supportive songs, to go for a walk with my husband and talk about other things, to get on Zoom and write with my co-writing friends. I choose time to practice Tai Chi for Recovery with the amazing, Theresa Knorr - it's a great time to accept the things I cannot change and change the things I can!  Also, Tai Chi always helps me move emotions and energy and helps me to get grounded!  These choices are acts of self-kindness and self-compassion.  They let me know that I am going to show up for myself even when I am really not happy with me.  I don’t need to pile on punishment.  It really doesn’t help in any way.   
 

I choose to reassure my sister, who was deeper in the muck than I was, and encourage her to not let it steal any more of her joy either.  We’re human.  We make mistakes.  It was a big one.  But, no one died.  It’s fixable. And, at the same time, as I talk it through with her trying to help clean up more of the mess, I'm shaking.  The shock is still living inside my body.  We've beeen shaken by this scam... and it's hard to trust anyone or anything right now.  It feels like danger is lurking around every corner.  

What I’ve learned from all of this:

 #1 Do NOT override that inner knowing for anyone’s outside voice, no matter how much they plead.  Do not. 

#2 Slow things down and think it through before I act.  Talk it through with someone I trust if I’m not sure. 

#3 Do not get caught up in the seeming urgency of anything.  Unless there’s blood, fire, or someone is turning blue, there are few things that require immediate action - especially if they don’t make sense. 

#4 Do not act in a state of confusion.  Pause.  Walk away.  Breathe (we need that oxygen for intelligent thinking!).  Regroup.  Reground.  Come back and choose from a grounded place.  Will I still make mistakes or get things wrong?  Of course!  But, probably not in things like this. 

#5 When I F up, face it, deal with it, forgive myself (or at least consider forgiving myself), and move on.  Don’t let it continue to burden me unnecessarily for longer than needed. 

#6 Be kind to myself in all of this.  What would I say to someone I love who’s in my shoes right now?  Offer that same grace, gentleness, and compassion to me.  Remember my messy humanness, my predictable imperfection. 

#7 Let myself move through it, get over it.  It’s just one (very problematic and annoying) moment in the grand scheme of this life.  Look at all I’ve gotten through in the past.  I can get through this too.  In many ways, this is nothing! It will be ok.  Somehow it will be ok. 

#8 Remember how quickly things change.  Internally and externally.  This too will pass.  It’s passing even now, if I let it. 

#9 Call in Enchantment… ask her what more she has to offer me right now.  Here’s what she had to say, “Oh, baby girl, you can bring in gentleness, kindness, and care - always.  When you fall into beating yourself up, stop. Remember that.  Don’t let it spiral into 1500 things you’ve done wrong or let it make you a globally terrible person.  Just own the mistake, name the shame, regret, and anger you feel.  Let it move through you.  You don’t have to continue to carry it or let it darken one more moment.  Let it go.  Move on.  I love you. 

So, I ask you… How are YOU?  How do you deal with these moments in your life?  Or am I the only one who knows what I’m talking about?  If so, thanks for indulging me!  If not, I would love to hear how you get yourself through these tough times.  

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The Gift of Presence

12/29/2022

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Picture
This Christmas I had the opportunity to experience the gift that mere presence brings.  What’s possible when I shut my mouth and just listen.  Listen with an open heart and open mind, setting aside my own ideas and agendas. 

Presence like this opens doors, builds trust and safety in a way that allows others to come forward - to open up and give me an idea of what life is like for them, what is going on inside of their experience. 

When I stop nagging, badgering, interrogating, and lecturing (which, let’s be honest, NO ONE likes!  It is never helps connection or makes anything truly positive happen), love enters in.  Hearts open to one another.  We can relax into being together and be a little more real… 

It comes down to who I want to be and how I want to be.  This is where I have agency and choice. I am not pre-programmed or unable to control my own behavior and words.  Based on my values (what really matters most to me), based on my story of who I say I am, it’s up to me to do more than just pay lip service to what I say I’m all about. 

It’s up to me to actually BE the way I aspire to be.  I can also bring in lots of compassion and grace when I slip up (which I most certainly will!) - this is not about perfection.  It is about generous compassion for all. 

When I step back, silently, and allow myself to observe and see what’s going on, I might recognize the struggle someone is having.  I realize that it’s not their fault or choice.  They don’t choose to be in this struggle.  I can have compassion.  I can offer a calm presence for someone who’s feeling a little jangly to regulate with rather than adding to the angst or presenting something to fight against or feel bad about. 

I can simply offer my truly loving presence.  This allows me to hear how surprised someone is by how well they’re doing. I can hear the self-doubt that lives so close to the surface.  I can hear how little they believe in or trust themselves.  How they’re finding their way, tentatively beginning to form a new story.  Inviting, allowing them to soften to me - to trust that I am a safe place to land.  That I won’t use their admissions against them.

I can look for what’s going right, what there is to celebrate, rather than focus on what is missing or what could be.  I can follow the rhythm and flow of this group I’m with in this time… not impose my idealized story of what “should” be. 

Over the years I have ruined many special events for myself and others by letting my expectations or ideas of how things should be cloud the reality of what and who is here right now. 

I’m the one who still feels the pang of guilt over how ungraciously I responded to my sister’s massively generous gift of a handcrafted framed Holly Hobbie needlework (50 years ago!).  I was too young to appreciate what it meant for her to pour her heart, soul, and time into this beautiful piece just for me.  It wasn’t a toy. I was a brat.  And. I responded with the appropriate bratty pout for the rest of the day. 

I am the one who hit my friend, Steven. when he gave me a beautiful Breyer horse for my birthday.  The gift was more than I could bear.  Pretty sure that was the same year - 8-year-old me had some issues… 

I am the one who often feels let down after the holiday is over - the days and weeks of build-up falling hollow when everyone leaves.  Wanting more.  Wanting different.  Regret at what wasn’t. Disappointment. 

Not this year.  This year I chose differently. 

I reminded myself in my journaling and asked my husband to help me remember to appreciate what’s here.  I stayed present to the miracle we were given in being able to all be together for 2 nights and 3 days, sharing one house, sharing meals, visiting, talking, laughing till bedtime.  Wiggling through the tense moments but not blowing them up into more than they needed to be.  Staying kind even when I had to have an uncomfortable conversation.   Resting gradually in each other’s presence.  Honoring the rhythm and flow of this family.  Noticing when the “what should we DO now?” anxiety temporarily poked at me… allowing things to unfold organically rather than forcing a reading of The Grinch, a making of the gingerbread house (that is still waiting patiently in its box for when the right time), watching an old holiday show that no one but me enjoys.  Let that go.  Open to what they want.  Invite everyone into something new.  Just breathe.  Just be.  Play the kids’ Christmas music rather than my mom’s old playlist.  Be playful, lighthearted, enjoy.  Them.  For who they are.  As they are.  As we are.  In this moment. 

That way of being opened up something in me that still touches my heart.  I can almost cry as I soak in the deep appreciation for this precious time with my husband and grown sons.  There wasn’t anything too profound in our being together except that it was all profound.  To witness the initial discomfort and awkwardness melt away as we settled in to being together. To relax into noticing and allowing each of us to have our own unique ways and needs.  To hug, smile, laugh… to really stay in a place of appreciating what was, what is, what’s here, what’s true, what’s real, what’s good and wonderful.  Holding back judgment or inclination to offer unwelcome suggestions or unkind observations.  Allowing others to find their own way in life in their own time. 

Letting love guide the way, be the true foundation for our time together, for our life.  The generosity of presence is the truest gift we can offer another being. It is the greatest gift we can offer ourselves.  To listen deep within, to remember who we want to become in this next iteration, to show up to what we say we want to create with others, to be sincere in our efforts and digging in to show up in that way.  Not expecting it to be easy, perfect, or even comfortable, but allowing the unfolding. 
​
This Christmas I was given the gift of connection with my family, getting to know them in a way I had not before.  Together we created the gift of presence.  My heart remains full.  ❤


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Grappling with Life's Questions

11/8/2022

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PictureImage by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay
Do I matter? Does my life matter?  What’s my purpose?  Am I doing enough?  What IS enough? Whether we say them out loud or not, many of us (myself definitely included) grapple with these questions from time to time or on a regular basis.  

Even though for many years I’ve held the mantra “No striving, driving, or pushing” and I truly feel the relief and freedom in claiming that, inside I still secretly berate myself for not being ambitious enough.  When I meet people who are DOING so many great things - big things that are changing the world, I unwittingly compare myself and come up short. Even when I'm choosing to not do too much!  Even when I'm happy with life as it is and not looking to grow or do more... 

I am reminded of my friend, Steve Aman’s question to me on the last day of Leadershape - a grueling few days in the Adirondacks challenging ourselves physically, mentally, and emotionally in an arena that was not my strength.  There had been things I had opted out of (and then reluctantly and with a ton of support tried again).  There had been things that terrified me, things that amused me, things I was willing enough to try and others that were an absolute “Oh, hell no!” 

I was not going to scale a telephone pole, somehow find a way to stand on top of it and throw myself into space toward some acrobat bar.  I was not going to blindfold myself and walk forward (or backward as some did) on the high beam or across the broken swing bridge.  I did get myself to the wire and across it.  I did pair up with Michael and do the “Wild Woozy,” leaning into each other’s hands as we traversed wires that slowly drifted further and further apart so that the only thing holding us up was our weight leaning into each other’s hands.  And I DID rappel off the 80’ cliff (or 800’ - I honestly don’t remember!  I only knew it was a BIG number that terrified me), even after watching some pretty skillful people get caught upside down for a bit. 

So, on this last day there - a day designed for “play,” my dear friend Steve asked me, “Do you have anything left to prove?”  The answer was clear.  No, I did not… “Then go have fun,” he grinned and sent me on my way.  I could watch others perform their feats and cheer them on, but I had done enough.  I’d do the swing and scream my primal scream ‘cause that looked kind of fun… but, other than that, I was good. 

So, in life.  How do we know when we’ve done enough?  How do we reach a point of nothing more to prove?  Is it measured by a certain income or amount in our bank account or retirement fund?  Does it come from winning a certain award or working your way up to a particular title?  Is it the number of hours you work or the number of people you’ve served or the number of likes or views on your Instagram post?  Giving a TEDx talk?  Does it come after we’ve finally done or created “the thing?” We’ve written the book, created the program, given the talk, taught at THE place in THE room or on THE stage we’ve been aiming for… is that enough?  

It doesn’t seem it.  More often than not, people seem to turn around and start striving again for the next thing.  Sometimes they barely even acknowledge that accomplishment (no matter how huge) before shooting for the next. 

I’d like to share a little reflection I wrote about “Enough,” rising out of a beautiful conversation with my friend, Sharon Rosen, who told me of a beautiful Hebrew word, dayenu.  As Sharon explained it to me, dayenu means “it would have been enough.”  What a concept.  Something to rest into.  The way I want to live - so that when I die, I truly can feel “it was enough.” 

Enough
by Barb Klein
 
If I only did well with my own family, it would be enough.
If I only wrote this book for me, it would be enough.
If I’d only ever done what I’ve already done, it would have been enough.
If I could remember and believe this, I would believe I have nothing left to prove.  Nothing at all…
I am enough.  Exactly as I am.  What I’ve done - is enough.
 

Can I lean into my own enoughness?  Can I embrace it and simply live the rest of my life for me, tending to me?  Trusting that that will allow me to show up for others as a way that feels good, fills me, isn’t like the way anyone else is doing it? 

Can I let go of ideas of how things should go and allow them to unfold? 
Can I allow myself to be supported?
Can I be willing to ask for opportunities and for help to find these opportunities?
Focus on my own healing, growth, creativity, and let it lead where it may (or not).

It is enough. 
It will have been enough.
I feel the deep contentment in that.
 
It’s time to heal - to release all the grief I carry - to breathe in the pines.  To listen to the wind - to feel the breeze.
It’s enough.
 
Let go the rushing.
Let go the frenzy.

Let them have their fun - their antics - their way. 
You have yours and it is not theirs, most certainly.
You, my beloved, are enough, just as you are. 

If I never lost another pound,
built another muscle,
or walked another mile,
It would be enough. 
 
Nothing to push for, strive for, or drive for!
Those days are behind me.

There’s no goal I can achieve
that will make me any more me.
 
And that’s all I long to be -
Fully, wholeheartedly me!
 
We are such fascinating creatures with our stories of “I’m not enough!  I’m too much!  I have to do more! I have to keep going, doing, achieving, proving…”  Is any of it true?  Worth checking in on!  We are each whole, complete, and completely worthy just by being.  Our worth is not determined by anything outside of ourselves.  And we are the only ones who can decide for ourselves how much we want to do, how much we need to create, how much we need to serve, and what is enough. 
 
I invite you to check out Jen Louden’s wisdom on the Conditions of Enoughness and see how you might apply this in your own life.  YOU get to decide.  You get to define what is enough for you, based on your very real life.  You get to choose to lighten up a bit on yourself.  And to keep practicing, over and over, because this too, is a practice.  I’m working on it. 
 
Where can you lower the bar for yourself rather than continually raising it, raising it, raising it?  What can you rest into as “exactly enough?”  What are you striving for that you can relax about, let go of?  We are so hard on ourselves and so easily judgmental of what we have or haven’t done.  
 
Just for today… be gentle with yourself.  Just for today… let it be enough.  Whatever “it” is. 
 

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Love IS Tough!

8/1/2022

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PictureImage by Pexels from Pixabay
Whether it’s love for a child, partner, family member, friend, or ourselves.  Staying IN relationship is almost always harder than walking away.  Being willing to have the tough conversations, to admit our hurt or misunderstanding, to ask “what happened?  What did you experience?” and share what’s going on for us, however imperfectly the words might fall out of your mouth. 

Personally, I almost always bumble my words in real time.  They don’t come out nearly as coherently or smoothly as they sounded in my head when I am face to face with this person with whom I’m having some kind of struggle.  I didn’t grow up learning how to express my anger or hurt or how to ask for what I need. 

I grew up hiding from conflict, avoiding it like the plague.  Love and anger did not compute – in my mind they negated one another.  I couldn’t be angry with someone I loved.  If they were angry with me, that must mean our relationship is over.  Anger has always been a little scary for me – mine as well as others.  The silent treatment riles me up - I sometimes provoke just to get some kind of interaction going, even if it isn’t pretty. 

Love, my friends, is tough.  It’s so much easier (in some ways) to ice someone out, cut them off, be “done” with them.  Walk away and stop trying to mend what’s been damaged or heal the hurt. 
It takes effort to be willing to muddle through a conversation when both of you are hurting and/or upset.  As we learn to take good care of ourselves it can be hard to figure out how to do that AND stay in relationship, honoring that we both have needs and at times those needs might be in conflict. 
It takes learning new ways to wait and new ways to communicate in order to reconnect after there’s been a mishap.  It’s painful.  It’s often ugly, and may involve some tissues, some big sighs, some exasperated gestures or voices.  It’s tricky to stay out of defensive posture, hear the other person, while also sharing our thoughts and feelings. 

Self-compassion is also critical, as I tend to beat myself up, imagining what a terrible person I must be if this person I love is so upset.  I hate hurting people and would far rather blame myself than someone I love.  Self-love can be tough. 

If we are wise, we allow time and space for each person to think things through, to look at our own stuff, to feel what’s bubbling within us, before we try to come together.  However, in the silence, alone with our thoughts, we conjure up stories that may be far worse than what’s really going on.  Someone avoids us or doesn’t take our calls, and we give it all sorts of meanings.  How quickly we go from sadness and hurt to fear to “F@#& you!” depends on our own personal boiling point or how often we’ve been abandoned before. 

I do not believe in “tough love” as too often prescribed for families and friends of loved ones who struggle with mental health issues like substance use, eating disorders, or other problematic behaviors.  No, I don’t.  These people are already hurting and misunderstood enough.  Trust me, they pile onto their own suffering and adding to it is not going to help them heal or change.  Just, no. 

But I do know love is tough.  Hanging in there in a way that works for you as well as the other person is tough.  We fall in love with our babies and our partners so easily, we may not grasp the reality of the work and care required to stay in relationship with these people as we all grow and change. 

I am discovering the gift in the relationships that require extensive work.  Each time we make it through another round or problem, we deepen our connection.  We add to the evidence that we will last.  We learn to trust the relationship, and we remember (at least for a minute) not to take it or this person for granted. 

Love is tough.  It requires a willingness to be clumsy, a commitment to be honest, an ability to show up and speak up, even when it’s uncomfortable.  The ability to take a risk because the relationship matters.  It requires that we show up fully and authentically – not pretending that all is ok until we somehow get beyond whatever happened.  True friendships and deep relationships require honesty and for each of us to be true to ourselves.  I am not interested in superficial connections.  I want to dive deep with my people.  Diving deep is going to get messy at times. 

It's tough.  And in the end, it is so worth it.  As we grow together, we learn more about one another. If I can begin to look at you and really know and accept that your behaviors make sense (based on your history, your personality, your style, your way of thinking and being), I can more easily accept you and make room for our differences. I can appreciate that we are not the same, and that’s ok.  Hopefully you will learn a bit about my wounds, my triggers, my reactions, and my messed-up thinking as we talk things out.  We will both realize that everyone acts like an ass at times… including me and including you. 

I don’t have to take it all on.  Relationships are made up of people.  Whatever is going on here, we’ve created it together.  We may not have meant to – things are often not personal or intentional, but here we are. 

How do we find our way back to the surface to begin again? Together.  One moment and one breath at a time.  Through reaching out and asking or inviting a conversation.  Through allowing space and time for that green light moment to reveal itself.  Through finding “our way,” which may not be entirely yours or entirely mine.  Getting beyond a need to blame or punish – ourself or the other.  Remembering our heart connection and coming with deep compassion and an open heart so that we can reconnect. 

Love is tough.   It’s not always sunshine and rainbows.  It requires deep vulnerability, the courage to say “I am sorry. I was wrong.  I wish that hadn’t happened.  I don’t ever want to hurt you" (but I likely will if you stick around long enough, because, hey… I’m human and so are you). 

Love is not always laughter and joy, even when we think it should be.  Life is always happening, and in the end, love is tough...so it endures.  Love is the way.   

**PLEASE NOTE: Not all relationships are healthy or worth fighting for - if you are being abused in any way, please get the help and support you need to take care of yourself and keep yourself safe.**

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    About me...

    I am a writer, coach, and teacher, and I love capturing life's many moments through writing, whether that be journalling, blogging, poetry, or essay.  I have always found the written word as a natural way for me to express what lies within.  

    This is the space where we get real.  I will write about my life experiences and things that I find my clients encounter in their daily lives.   

    What's real for you? What would you like me to write about?  Feel free to share with me topics you would like to see discussed and please join in the dialogue through the comment section. Your engagement makes the blog a much richer place to hang out!

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Barb Klein
Inspired Possibility
585-705-8740
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