Inspired Possibility Blog

Slow it All Down... Even when Times are Urgent

3/14/2025

“The times are urgent. Let us slow down.” – Báyò Akómoláfé

“Between stimulus and response there is a space. In that space is our power to choose our response. In our response lies our growth and freedom.” —Viktor Frankl

Image by kewl from Pixabay

In these urgent times, what if the most essential thing we can do is slow it all down? Claim the space that Frankl speaks of – the space where power to choose lies. Taking The Pause is the basis for everything else – for tending well to yourself, building relationships, acting mindfully, and creating the life and world you want to live in. Pausing, slowing down, is incredibly powerful, but not easy. Slowing things down requires you to break the pattern of reactivity which may have led to trouble in the past. Pausing helps you establish new patterns and attunes you to your wisdom, your values, while giving access to deeper clarity and insight. Without slowing down, it’s easy to get caught up in our stories, feelings, and fears. So easy! I do it on a regular basis.

Slowing down grounds us in this moment. We can face what’s here and come to grips with this moment’s reality: “Here we are…” - a moment of reckoning that might be missed if you’re hellbent on getting to the next thing or swept up in an emotional tidal wave. Too often, noticing here we are is followed in a nano-second by, “so what do we do now?” The mind desperately wants to seize control of the situation, to fix things, to solve a problem. Sometimes that’s warranted and appropriate and other times we need time – to feel, to settle, to open our heart and mind. The Pause gives you space for all of that and allows insights and ideas to emerge.

“Do you have the patience to wait
Till your mud settles and the water is clear?
Can you remain unmoving
Till the right action arises by itself?”
― Lao tzu

When the world’s on fire or you have a child who’s struggling, the suggestion to wait, to remain unmoving can feel laughable, impossible, irresponsible. Your whole being screams “There is no time to wait! This is a crisis!”

And yet, there is very little that doesn’t benefit from slowing down and taking a pause, be it for three breaths, three hours, or thirty days. Unless there is fire raging or blood gushing in front of you now (which I doubt there is or you wouldn’t be reading these words), you likely can grant yourself and the situation a little time and space.

You can move more effectively after taking time to quiet down, re-set, and feel what is here. Stepping out of the fray allows you to question your thinking while you listen and receive wisdom, insight, guidance, and even a renewed energy to face what’s next. The right action may arise when you’re not so constricted in fear, trying to force a decision.

Without taking the pause, we find ourselves in reactive, fearful, conditioned, and habitual ways of behaving, and we may act prematurely without thinking things through. If, instead, we allow the mind to settle, we will see more clearly, feel what’s ours to do when the time is right, and begin to get curious about what’s needed or wanted. The fear, anger, and sadness don't necessarily go away, but the pause has given you time to check in with yourself and to find the wisdom in these feelings. To get grounded. To hear what’s true for you, rather than jump to comply or please others. It’s one way to avoid over-extending yourself.

Pausing is the essence of care, compassion, respect, and curiosity. The pause broadens our lens to see the bigger picture – all that’s here, including whatever feels problematic, and also beauty and goodness. Pause expands our thinking and opens up space for different ideas to emerge. Pausing isn’t the same as strategizing or plotting how to control or overpower a situation, but rather a break to open up to possibilities that may currently be hidden from view.

So, what does it look like to slow down or pause?

In the midst of traffic or in an argument, rather than overheating or exploding, the pause could be as simple as mindfully taking a few deep breaths to calm yourself down rather than laying on the horn or yelling back
Upon hearing disturbing news for the umpteenth time in an hour, you might go for a walk and then come back to read the insights of someone you trust to help you decide what action, if any, you would like to take. You begin to discern what’s yours to do, what you have the capacity for, as you accept the reality that none of us can save the whole world by ourselves.
Slowing down may mean we talk something through with a trusted friend or counselor before making a move.
In a time of overwhelm, exhaustion, or conflict, you might give yourself a loving timeout, not as a punishment, but as a gift to all. Taking yourself to your room or out for a walk or drive as a chance to reset, re-ground, calm racing thoughts or heart so you don’t say or do something you’ll regret later
In response to a relationship that’s wearing you down, you might choose to take a longer break and not engage for a number of days or weeks
A healthy pause could be mindfully deciding to take social media off your phone so that it’s not so easy to find yourself doom-scrolling in every empty moment

When I slow down I feel more open, more expansive, more inclusive. My mind stops its incessant racing and fretting. I breathe more steadily. I find my ground, feeling the solidity of the earth holding me. I see and hear things in my environment – I don’t rush over the bridge, missing the sea turtle lounging in the murky water. I notice angels in the clouds. I revel at the beauty, mystery, and magnificence of the everyday miracles of sunrise and sunset. I breathe again. And again. And again. Until I can feel the choices that are mine to make and discern which one is right for this moment. I find the strength and inner guidance to choose rather than giving in to the shouting of others about what I have to do. I feel my pain, anger, fear. I cry the tears that have been held in too long. And gradually, because everything is always shifting, my mood and my energy shift too and I am able to take my next step. From here, I can show up to life more like the person I want to be. I catch myself the next time I've sped up and gotten caught in a reactivity loop, regroup, and begin again.

When I don’t slow down people could get hurt – I whack my head on a doorknob because I was moving too quickly and not paying attention, or I bite someone’s head off because I'm overwhelmed. I react rather than respond, and I’m much less likely to be the person I want to be. I miss out on all that’s here, tightly focused on only what’s wrong or scary, even when I’m with people I love in a safe, comfortable environment. My mind can carry me away and hold me hostage with it’s beliefs, thoughts, and opinions about what’s going on and what should be. I amp myself up in a frenzied, reactive state. I lose sleep. I eat crap, seeking comfort from chips and ice cream. It’s not good for me or anyone or anything when I’m swept up in chaotic energy.

This message to slow down is one that Love gives me regularly (when I take the time to ask and record her response). Here’s one of her messages from just the other day when I found myself rapidly spiraling: “Slow it down. Bring it in. What is within your reach? What can you do that will help settle you? Stay off social media today – all day. Organize your piles. Get outdoors and breathe fresh air. Watch the ocean. Listen to the birds. Take the time you have to savor the time you have. Stop trying to put out fires everywhere. Breathe. A lot. Pause and breathe. You need the oxygen. Trust me – your brain will thank you. Laugh. Love fiercely. Nothing can stop your ability to laugh and love. Calm it down. Bring it in, and love on yourself. Fiercely love.” (you can see more about my practice of interacting with Love and inviting in this wisdom in Love’s Wishes)

Your thoughts?
How does this land with you? Helpful? Annoying? Ridiculous?
What works for you? How do you slow things down?
How and when would the mighty pause benefit you?
How can this idea help you be who you want to be and how you want to engage with life?

Maybe we can’t save the world, but we can support our presence to be of benefit to it.
Who do you want to be and how do you want to show up? Good guiding questions in a life that feels out of control.

And a song to speak to your heart... We don't Know We're Living

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Finding Hope - In the Worst of Times

2/7/2025

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Writing about hope in horrific times? Really? Yes! It feels necessary. Maybe more important than ever. So, here we go.

We are living in a time where chaos, confusion, and relentless actions are designed to exhaust us, divide us, and silence us. We can easily lash out in anger or hide away in isolation.   Empathy, accountability, and respect seem to be lacking, particularly from those in power.
We need hope to help us see beyond the muck of the truly despicable.

The state of affairs in the US right now reminds me of the chaos that once consumed my family, crisis after crisis, brought on by chaotic substance use. The too familiar dread in the pit of my stomach – afraid to look at my phone to see what the latest disaster is.

One key distinction is that my son didn’t intend to scare us, cause chaos or harm. His actions weren’t calculated, malicious, or planned out. They were simply part of his mental health challenges which set off a chain of reactivity. I've talked with many people who've struggled with substance use, and know they never meant to hurt the people they love.

It’s easy to be frozen in inaction, stunned into silence in times of great disruption, but we don’t have to collapse. We can find a way to go on and to act in meaningful ways. Wringing our hands helplessly only adds to anxiety and withdrawal.

We need hope to continue on – to love, to be generous or compassionate, to make a difference.

Hope is Possible
Here’s what I know: hope is possible even in the most devastating times. How do I know? Because on the night my son, Nate, died, I reached over to my husband, grabbed his hand and said, “We will get through this.”

Partly, I did this because I needed to hear myself say it, to believe it, because anything else was too impossible to imagine. I said it even though it was also impossible to know how we would get through or what “getting through” meant. Partly I did this because at least some part of me knew that it was true.

In our 29 years with Nate, we endured so much – school struggles, family struggles, 14 years of the pain of watching him struggle with substance use and bulimia and all that that brought with it. We’d faced so many times when I didn’t know how I or we would go on… but we did. Now, not quite 2 years since his death, I still don’t always know how we will go on, but somehow, one moment, one breath at a time, we do.

I imagine if you look at your own life, you’ve had moments or maybe stretches of years that feel relentless, agonizing, hopeless. Times you’ve felt powerless and unable to see your way out of the struggle. Maybe you’re in a time like that right now. Either way, here you are reading these words, and that alone is a sign of hope.

What Hope Is and What It Isn’t

At a conference late last November, “Bridging the Hope and the How,” our keynote speaker, Dr. Ashley Cross, Executive Director of Hope585 in Rochester, NY, said that hope isn’t a feeling. That we can have hope even when we feel grief, sadness, fear. I’m still sorting out how that’s possible. No words for it, but I have experienced it to be true.

I’ve learned hope isn’t a flimsy wish: “I hope things get better.” That’s just wishful thinking that doesn’t get you or anyone anywhere. No change comes from weak wishing. A wish like that allows you to step back and not take any responsibility for what could be.

There’s another kind of hope that is fierce – it rises from deep inside and says, “No! This is not how this story will end!” That force can carry us, be a guiding light that calls us forward, even if we can’t see where we’re going. This force nudges us forward, fueled by a belief in a better future and a knowing that we can be part of creating the future we long for.

In his book, 8 Ways to Hope: Charting a Path through Uncertain Times, William Miller writes, “Hope is all about anticipation of what is not yet. It is a liminal space, a threshold to what may yet be.” What is not yet… what may yet be… those words alone bring pause. An interesting reflection. A reminder that we simply Do. Not. Know. All we can know is what’s already happened and what is happening right here, right now in our direct experience. We do not know what is coming in the future. Even when things are happening that make it look bleak. We still cannot foresee the future. We don’t have to fall into the trap of foregone conclusions.

Hope and Fear

Miller goes on to say, “…both hope and fear project images of what could come to pass, and both can be powerfully motivating. They are alternative lenses through which we view an uncertain future… Hope tends to expand our horizons, while fear contracts them.”

Have you noticed that? Fear brings us into tunnel vision where we only see the path of doom. It constricts our bodies. Breathing becomes shallow, jaw clenches, gut grips. Our thoughts run on a repetitive loop with all that we fear. “I know how this is going to go!” We find ourselves unwilling or unable to imagine any outcome other than what we dread.

“Fear can shut down the creative capacity to find better ways and even the will to find them. Hope is about finding both the will and a way forward,” writes Miller. When we feel trapped. When we feel certain of doom. When we feel powerless to do anything that will make a difference, we can lose hope. Of course we can. It’s so natural. Especially if the scene feels familiar – you’ve been here before, so “here we go again” thoughts come rushing in. Of course.

But, can you consider that this time could be different? You’re not the person you were the last time you faced this situation, even if it was only yesterday or a few hours ago. Which means that everything else about this scenario is also different than it was. The door to hope cracks open a tiny bit. Where there is possibility, there is hope. Where there is uncertainty, there is hope. Nothing has been determined yet. Where there is life, there is hope. Where there is love, there is more hope.

When people come together for the greater good, hope rises and ripples out. Hope and fear are both contagious – they spread between people like a creeping vine that quickly takes over. So, you get to decide if you’re spreading fear or hope. What seeds you want to plant? Can you be a force of hope, even in times of great darkness when all seems lost?

“Courage is not the absence of fear, but moving ahead in spite of it,” says Miller. The fear will be here. As will grief, sadness, confusion, anxiety, but they don’t have to be the only forces at play and we don’t have to give them the final word. One thing is for certain – running around and adding to the frenzy and panic helps no one. We must do what we can to find a ground that allows us to come into the world in a healthy way.

Creating a Legacy of Hope
Hope creates hope. We can give hope to others when they’re not feeling it. Our words and actions can create a ripple of hope. In Hope Rising: How the Science of HOPE can Change Your Life by Casey Gwinn & Chan Hellman, the authors share many ways to cultivate, strengthen, and grow hope. Hope needs attention and effort to sustain it – it doesn’t remain untended. In their final chapter, “Leaving a Legacy of Hope,” they share “Lessons Learned from Two Old Guys!”

Some that feel poignant in this moment are:

Teach your children (and friends) to be hope-centered
When the time is right, make it OK to talk about the bad stuff in life
Empathy always opens doors
Listen more than you talk
Run from negative people – find cheerleaders and encouragers
Surround yourself with positive role models
Focus on strengths, not weaknesses or deficits
Use your power and influence to bless children

When you use your powers for good, and act in ways that bless the children and the future children of the world, you are leaving a ripple that builds people up and generates more hope, kindness and caring.

A friend once called me a “Possibilitator,” a term that lit me up. I define it as “one who shines the light of hope and possibility, especially in times of darkness.” In a world where so much is out of my control and beyond my influence, this is something I can offer. Will you possibilitate with me? We can also take the actions we’re called to to help create a better future. None of this is about sugarcoating a shitshow or burying your head in the sand. It’s about finding sustainable ways to show up for people and things that matter.

It's All Too Much! Finding the Elusive Balance

Being bombarded by crisis after crisis feels relentless and overwhelming. I don’t know that there is a magic formula for being informed and staying engaged so that we can take action as needed, while also taking good care of ourselves. I do know that we must tend our hearts and health - mental, physical, spiritual, and emotional. When we are well cared for, we can step up when and where we’re called.

Meditation has helped me be with my own mind, developing awareness of what’s going on inside, sitting with thoughts and feelings as they arise. This allows me to act and speak in a more clear and intentional way. We don’t need to completely avoid the realities of the world (and we couldn’t even if we tried to), but with intention we can choose where we direct our attention. We can help where we can, step away to rest and regroup as needed. Breaks are essential.

We can carry hope alongside fear as we remember we don’t know what might yet be.

Balance in action and rest is elusive and not evenly matched much of the time. There are times when we will be all-in on something stressful, that requires immediate action, and does not give us a chance to sit back and be more intentional and mindful. However, when there are moments to regroup, refresh, and renew our mind and spirit, we must take them. Those moments are critical.

When you find people in the news taking over your life to the extent you’re missing moments of sweetness or delight with your partner, friends, or children, something has to give. At our family picnic last summer, we began swirling into fear and dismay about the future. My niece, Amy, brilliantly brought us back to each other and the precious gift of family time with a quick declarative, “That man is not welcome in our kitchen. He is not invited into our gathering!” Thank you, Amy. I find I have to remind myself of this often. To bring myself to what I want to allow into this moment, this space, my personal domain.

We get to choose who and what we give our time, energy, and attention to. Certain people want nothing more than to consume all of it. I implore you to take it back so that you can enjoy a quiet lunch with a friend, a walk in the woods with a beloved, sitting by the fire petting your cat, laughing at a stupid comedy, or getting lost in a song while you dance in your car.

Please take time to notice the beauty and the goodness in life that is here, even as horrific events consume the airwaves. It doesn’t erase or replace them, but it does broaden your perspective to all that is available. Beauty, wonder, delight, joy, kindness, lightness – they’re still here even when seem overshadowed by the ugly.

Do what you can for the causes that matter to you, remembering you cannot do everything, nor do you have to. Serve in a way that works for your body, nervous system, mind, and energy capacity – let others serve in their ways. Some of us will march and make calls, some will donate money, others will provide meals, others will offer hugs and smiles and kindness where they can. Others will sit quietly with a distraught family member or friend. There are many issues to be addressed, personally and collectively.

In her work of Revolutionary Love, Valarie Kaur reminds us of the midwife’s wisdom - we cannot push all the time. We must also breathe. In the resting and breathing, the next push can arise, and also in the pushing, we allow the breath to arise. Without the breath, you will deplete yourself and have nothing left to give.

If you’re facing a death or dealing with an illness or chronic struggle – your own or a loved one’s - you’re going to need your energy. What we’re facing collectively in our country and world is something that is going to require sustained energy. It serves no one for you to be on hyper-alert all the time. In our journey with Nate, we learned that sleep was vital, and so we chose to turn off our phones at bedtime. If something bad happened, we needed to be clear-headed and energized so we could respond in a more helpful way, rather than being sleep-deprived and overwhelmed by stress. When can you allow yourself to disconnect for a period of restorative time?

What Helps You to Hope?

I’m not always sure what helps me have hope. I do hear my son whisper from wherever he is, “I’m right here, Momma,” and I can feel that. I know that we still have each other and that he works with me and through me, and for that I am grateful. I find hope in the people in my life – my husband and friends who bring love, laughter, tears, and joy. I find hope in the nudges which prod me to create, offering what is mine to offer.

I find great hope in remembering that many people before me have persevered in similar or worse conditions than I face. In our country and around the world, many have endured centuries of treatment that could have led to despair and yet somehow, they have carried on. Leaders like Martin Luther King Jr., Gandhi, and Mother Teresa have shown what’s possible in the face of violence and hate.

Moms like Lori Drescher, Founder of Recovery Coach University, Pam Lanhart, Founder of Thrive Family Recovery Resources, Heather Ross, Family Recovery Coach, and Alexis Pleus Founder of TruthPharm, who have lost beloved children, inspire and uplift me and many others, as they work diligently to support people touched by substance use.

Hope Doesn’t Need to be Grand.

You might spend a little quiet time with Hope and ask, “Hope, what would you have me know?” Take a few minutes and let Hope’s wisdom flow to you, writing it out in a note to yourself if you like. In our last Finding Hope Within retreat, one participant received a beautiful insight that “hope can be small pinpricks of light.” And also, that “hope is in the sidewalk cracks, not the sidewalk.”

What does Hope want you to know?
What helps you have hope?
Who inspires you through their example?
Are there negative people you need to give less time to?
How can you sustain and support yourself in stressful times?
What do you notice that’s good or beautiful in your world today?
How do you want to show up in a troubled family, community, country, world?

Finding the Will - You are not Powerless!

Whether you’re facing a family challenge with substance use or you’re concerned about the state of affairs in the US and the world, your presence, your voice, and your actions make a difference. When we feel powerless, like nothing we do matters, it’s easy to lose hope. That’s when we’re at risk of isolating and finding ourselves paralyzed by fear or anger.

What you do matters! Your energy and presence matter, so please take the time to nurture and nourish your body, mind, heart, and spirit. Now is a great time to double down on practices that build internal strength, peace, grounding, flexibility, and clarity. That can look like getting out into nature, feeling the strength of the Earth holding you. Practices like yoga, dance, or working out allows your emotions the movement they need. Take time for contemplation, reflection, and mental rest through meditation, prayer, or journaling. Find community where you can, because we need each other, so take time to connect with someone you hold dear, go to a support group, attend a spiritual community gathering, or join a resistance group.

Be sure to take time for silence. There is too much to take in right now and it can easily overwhelm. Take media breaks. Turn off your phone and put it out of sight. Take a walk without listening to a podcast or talking to anyone. Create some spaciousness so that you can think and act more clearly.
Take some time to think about what practices best support you and make some time for them, even if only 5 minutes. 5-minute practices sprinkled throughout the day add up, and they will support you in this time that doesn’t offer any quick, easy fix.

Finding the Way - Some Ways to Get Started:

Step 1 - Pause... take a breath (or many breaths) - it's hard to imagine anything that could be made worse when we begin this way. Take this moment to find center and grounding before posting, speaking, or acting. Then proceed...

If you care about someone struggling with substance use, please check out the Invitation to Change approach which will invite you to reflect on what it means to help, reimagine the role that loved ones can play in the change process, and provide you with evidence-supported strategies for helping.

If you’d like a simple way to get involved in speaking out about the current state of affairs in the US, 5 Calls offers a direct link to your congressional representative and Senators along with guidance on top concerns you may wish to convey. Heather Cox Richardson is a clear and steady source of information. Pace yourself in what you’re taking in and what you’re doing. Do what you can and then step back to be refueled.

Donate to organizations doing important work that matters to you – time, money, or needed items. Whatever feels realistic and doable to you in this moment. What might fill your heart as you give?

Create the things you are called to create. It can be easy to shut down in the weight of overwhelm, but your creative offerings, whether that’s art, music, writing, videos, playlists, retreats… they are needed and they matter.

Make time for music - Here’s an eclectic playlist for finding hope to support you in this wild and crazy time. And here’s my Power Me Up Playlist for when I need a boost! Music can lift your spirits or bring the release of tears, encourage you to keep going, or give you something to dance and sing to. It helps us get out of our heads and into our souls. Music matters. Make your own playlist to carry you through the dark times.

Find Your People – In times when we feel scared, alone, or isolated, community is even more important. I know it’s harder to access because it takes energy and vulnerability to connect, but the effort will pay off. Phone a friend! Can we please bring back spontaneous phone calls and voice mails? Even if we don’t connect, at least we can hear each other’s voices! Find a group that supports your hobbies, passions, causes, personal development, recovery, or spiritual needs (to name a few), in person or online. Remembering that you’re not alone can really help.

The communities that are supporting my well-being right now that might be of interest to you:
The Open Heart Project Sangha - daily live meditation and discussion, weekly meeting, plus more!
Bodhi Tree Yoga - a variety of online classes with wonderful teachers and a sense of community

Give yourself a little oasis – Speaking of community, I invite you to join me on Monday, February 17, for a mini retreat, Finding Hope Within from 12 – 1:30 PM ET. Let’s come together, bringing whatever is present and cultivating a little bit of hope – that elusive what might yet be.

Find and create joy, delight, wonder. This is not a frivolous thing. Your energy matters - how you behave and speak matters. Small acts of kindness and moments of joy matter. Keep doing what you enjoy with joy. Joy is a form of resistance says Heather Cox Richardson (take a minute to watch this clip - it's very empowering!). It allows you to take back your power and refuse to give in to the forces that are bringing you down. Keep loving on people and believing in a better future, even if we don’t quite know what that will look like.

Find ways to offer compassion – to yourself and others. Our world desperately needs this energy. Showing up and acting from a place of love, kindness, and compassion makes a difference and builds hope. Your hope might take root, grow, and spread. It’s certainly worth a try!

Hold your loved ones close. Reach out and grab the hand of someone you love and say, “We will get through this.” Even if you don’t know how, you’re planting the seed of hope and possibility. Even if you might not get the outcome you would like, are you willing to give it a go?

What's working for you? Please, please share!! We learn and grow together!

My altar of hope

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Seeking Peace Even (Especially) in These Times?

10/17/2024

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Image by Gordon Johnson from Pixabay

If you’re finding yourself feeling anxious or agitated more often than you’d like and you’d love a little more peace in your life, hold on to hope. No matter what’s going on around you, you can cultivate peace and even ripple it out to the world. I’ve learned this over the past many years of my life, during the 14 years my son struggled with substance use and all the chaos that brought into our family, and even in the past year and a half since his passing. In this post I’ll share some tried and true practices that continue to carry me through the hardest of times. I hope you’ll find them supportive.

Even when our political climate is blowing up with division and aggression. Even when weather crises are coming fast and furious. Even when there's chaos in your family. Even through all of that, moments of peace are available. Not every moment, of course. You’re human and human is messy. Life is messy. Things happen. Reactions come, and the best thing we can do is be real with them and honest about them. True peace doesn’t come by denying the truth of what’s here or trying to jump over sadness, anger, frustration, or fear to get to peace. No. None of that…

What can we do to generate some peace within when the world and its people are spinning in a frenzy around us? Here are a dozen things that have worked for me (when I remember!). It’s a practice. Always. Something to remember and come back to when we forget:

1. Pause – stop whatever you’re doing and whatever you’re thinking. Take a breath or ten and step back from the intensity of the moment in order to regain your ground and to consider a fresh perspective. It’s easy to get caught up and pulled into drama and become one more reactive person in the works, even if we really value peace.   So, give yourself a chance to intentionally interrupt the spin.

How to do this? Just taking a moment to feel your feet on the ground and to you’re your breath can help. Or maybe give yourself a timeout in the most positive of ways – this isn’t a punishment, but truly best for everyone involved. Send yourself to your room or to the woods for even 30 minutes. If you’re at work or in a public space, lock yourself in a bathroom stall for a few minutes. Pauses come in all shapes and sizes, and they’re almost never a bad idea.

2. Curiosity – Notice when you’re feeling judgmental about something or someone and catch yourself in that moment. It can be helpful to shift to a state of curiosity. Say to yourself, “Isn’t that interesting?” Or, “that person or that thought doesn’t resonate with me” instead of “I hate them!” Suzanne Giesemann shared these ideas in a workshop I was in recently, and I was able to put them to use immediately as I came across people behaving badly. When I took this approach, I found that I got less worked up and agitated. I could silently send love to a situation and then move on with my day without needing to tell the story over and over or dwell on what an asshole that guy was.

3. Listen – just listen, without jumping in with your own ideas or opinions. This can settle a heated moment quickly and keeps you from making things worse. Take that pause, take a breath, and really listen to what someone else is saying. I tried this with a man I had just met who shared his opinions about a topic I’m passionate about, and though I didn’t agree with his thoughts on it, I could hear him. In my doing so, he commented, “Given your response, I’m guessing you don’t agree?” I simply said, “I don’t know. Here are my thoughts, but I don’t have the answer, and I don’t want to argue.” My not jumping in to talk over him or shove my ideas onto him opened up space for us both to think about the topic a little more and maybe even consider the validity of the other person’s thoughts.
I am also aware that there are many times when I’m quick to speak even though my input hasn’t been requested. Pausing and just listening helps build more peaceful interactions.

Listen to yourself too – listen to your body and heart for what they need in any moment. Learning to pay attention and honor this internal wisdom is step one in creating a self-care plan that you will stick to. The better you care for yourself the more peaceful you will feel.

4. Slow down. Maybe this should have been first because it’s integral to the other three ideas I’ve shared so far. Too often we rush – our meals, our rest, our conversations. We’re a distracted and busy people. When we take a little more time to be with ourselves, with each other, we reduce the frenzy.

5. Notice what you’re taking in – you have to digest everything that you take in. That’s true of food and drink, and also of things you’re listening to, watching, and reading. Is what you’re taking in filling you up or draining you? Does it inspire you and give you hope or send you to a place of despair? You are the sacred gatekeeper for your energy, so get curious about what you’re letting in to your being and how it affects you. Make changes accordingly, even if it’s only a slight reduction – say, checking headlines or scrolling social media 4 times/day instead of 400. There’s an awful lot of input available these days and a lot of it is designed to stir you up, hook you in, or both. Take good care of you.

6. Who are you hanging around with? Are they people who lift you up, inspire you, or make you laugh? People you can be real with? People you can cry with when you’re feeling sad? Or are they people who exhaust you or suck the life out of you? You might not have a choice all the time given your family or work environment. If those places are very draining, please be sure to balance out your interactions with those that are nourishing, uplifting, and fulfilling. Also be sure you’re getting enough “me time.” You know… alone time with yourself… time to reflect, process, or just chill. Such important recharge time!

7. What energy are you spreading, perpetuating, or exacerbating? Your presence makes a difference – to those around you and to yourself. Pay attention to how you feel if you jump in on gossip or if you repeat a story or belief you’ve told many times already. That spin of agony – “It shouldn’t be this way! How could this be happening? He’s crazy! Why is he doing this? I can’t take it!” doesn’t feel great. And the truth is, you’re here. You’re taking it, and you can choose how you want to be and what energy you want to bring to the world. It matters. Notice if something inside you likes to stir up drama or if you’d feel much better being a little more Zen. Are your words and actions aligned with your values? I find a deep inner ick when they’re not! For your own peace, shift your energy.

8. Where can you take down a barrier today? In a world that seems determined to pit us against one another, that can be a hard ask, but look for opportunities to bridge a divide. Extend a kindness to someone you’d normally look away from or down on. Share a smile. This doesn’t have to be hard or big, but small acts can generate big results. It’s one of the things I love about the CompassioNate Care Bag movement – people are turning toward their neighbors in need and reaching a hand out instead of looking away.

If you love someone who struggles with substance use, there are often a lot of barriers keeping us at war with one another. Curiosity and listening at times when you might usually yell or lecture can open doors, mend hurts, and build trust and relationship. It can be really hard to listen in a situation where you think you know what’s right or what has to be done. When you open your heart to your loved one and listen to their ideas and perspectives, and have an actual conversation, new ideas and perspectives might emerge that you would never have come up with on your own. When I was finally able to unplug my ears and open my eyes to have a real two-way conversation with Nate, he trusted me enough to share a little of what it was like to be him. I think the question, spoken or intended, “What’s it like to be you?” can open a lot of doors and hearts and help build connection if we’re genuinely curious and willing to hear some hard things.

9. Notice The F’s – I don’t know about you, but when I’m feeling overwhelmed, terrified, and/or powerless, I don’t necessarily function at my best. I jump into forcing, fighting, fixing, fleeing and frenzy. When we feel out of control or powerless it’s easy to fall into these nasty F’s, often followed by a big loud exasperated “F IT!!” It’s natural to try to force things to happen, to fix problems (or people), to lash out or flee to isolation, or to find yourself scrambling in a frenzy. However, reacting these ways rarely work and often make things worse.

Try these F’s instead – face it, flex, flow, and maybe even fun. Flexing and flowing require a certain level of acceptance and surrender which come from facing the reality of what’s before you. When you can, turn toward the challenge and find a way to be with it and move with it rather than frantically trying to make it change. How might you even have fun with these moments? I now try to spend more time clapping with joy at political signs that give me hope rather than flipping off the ones that make me cringe. Why not?

Just last week I had a chance to work with this – a birthday gift I had ordered for my son was reported as “delivered” on Wednesday. Except it had not been delivered to me. Clearly it had been left somewhere, but it wasn’t in my box, in our parcel lockers or at my home. So, I filed an online claim and waited for a response. The next day I received an email to let me know they were looking into it and another later in the day that it had been found, misdelivered, but was now in my box. Great! Except… it wasn’t there. So, I called the post office and left a message for the postmaster – later got a call that she had left for the day and wouldn’t be back till Tuesday, but someone else was going to talk to the carrier to try to figure out what was going on and where this package. Frustrating… but as I sat down on Saturday morning, I silently offered up the intention that the package find its way to us with ease, and I let it go. I kid you not… within 10 minutes the postmaster was knocking on our door, handing my husband the package. She had come out on her day off to find it and get it to us! Amazing!

Does it always work that way? Of course not, especially when other people are involved. BUT, sometimes it does. I’m certain things went more smoothly and she was moved to help me out because I didn’t yell and scream at her. We need to take the steps we need to take, and then let go and wait, allowing things to get worked out.

10. Be aware of what you’re focusing on - Shifting your focus from what’s wrong, what’s troubling you, or what scares you can truly change your experience of life, even if nothing outside of you changes. One of the quickest ways to do this is to take a moment and reflect on what you’re grateful for, no matter how small or seemingly insignificant that may be. Gratitude has been shown to rewire our brains and help take us out of the eternal loop of thinking about all that’s wrong and to open up to noticing what there is to appreciate.

I also look for beauty every day – mostly outside, as nature is more than willing to accommodate me with her clouds, critters, plants, sunsets, and moon rises. Oh, and last week, the Northern Lights! Holy wow! They were spectacular! So cool to see so many people pulled together by this force of wonder and awe! Even in our homes and work spaces, there’s beauty to be found if you’re willing to look. Let yourself pause and take it in. What does beauty feel like in your body? Where do you notice it? We need beauty to counter the ugliness that permeates too much of today’s airwaves.

11. Meet yourself and this moment with self-compassion, kindness, and gentleness. I noticed myself judging my lack of strength, mobility, and flexibility in yoga class the other day. In another lifetime, yoga was a regular part of my weeks and sustained me well. The reality is in the past year and a half, what used to be a pretty regular activity has gone by the wayside. So, I have a choice. I can feel sad about how much I’ve lost in myself and beat myself up for that, or I can feel sad about it and greet myself with compassion and acceptance that this is just the way it is right now. I chose the latter, but not without a lot of internal chatter along the way. It’s a process and a practice. When we treat ourselves with compassion, we’re much more likely to offer it to others.

12. Turn to Love, with a capital L, and ask for guidance – There are two questions I sometimes remember to ask of Love, this giant force of unconditional love that’s available to us all.
1. What would Love do? Shockingly, the answer is often very different than what this cranky human would do! And, 2. Love, what would you have me know? (taken from Liz Gilbert’s beautiful practice with this inquiry). In either case, you can silently ask and quiet yourself enough to hear what response comes or you could write it out and do a little free-form journaling, allowing your hand to keep writing as you take in and capture whatever comes to you.

I find Love to be a very gentle, compassionate, supportive force to lean into which often reminds me to take it easy on myself, to slow down… all the things we’ve talked about above! Sometimes she shows me ways I can serve or help someone else that will feel good. She’s a very positive influence for me!

Life is a series of moments never promised.
As Joanna Macy said on her podcast, “We are the Great Turning,” (which I highly recommend you check out!), “This moment with you is a gift that was never promised.” This is true of every moment, so cherish your moments with people you love. The more fragile their lives, the more numbered their days, the more worthy of cherishing. We take too much for granted and get too easily swept away by stuff that isn’t worthy of our time or attention. Let’s rein it in and build the lives we want to be living.

Each of these suggestions is a process and a practice. I hope something resonates that might support you in cultivating a little more peace in your days and ways. Let me know! What other things do you do to help create peace when times feel hard, hopeless, or scary? Drop a note in the comments or send me a note. I love, love, love hearing from and learning from you!

Here’s a little music 🎶to support you on this journey – enjoy!

Common (“Cause we’ve got way too much in common…”)
If not for Love (“And what are we here for, if not for love?”)
Love Wins (“I believe we’re made to be here for each other”)

And a couple of meditations to choose from:

If Love points you toward service, here are some ways to support local grassroots efforts that are near and dear to my heart and run by people I love.

✨Brightstar Community’s Bright Night – Nov. 7th. Their mission is to help women survivors of sexual exploitation and trafficking find healing, hope, and independence. By raising awareness and funds, we can provide safe housing, holistic care, and a supportive community to these courageous women as they rebuild their lives. By attending and purchasing tickets to this fundraising event, you are directly contributing to providing safe, long-term housing and trauma-informed care for survivors.

❤️The Emilee Connection’s fundraiser of Music, Compassion & Connection – Nov. 8th – their mission is to support adults who suffer from anorexia and other eating disorders by harnessing the power of peer support, social connection, activities, educational events, inspiring speakers, and provide education and peer support for those who love them and for our community.

💕 Our CompassioNate Care Bag Mission is fueled by donations from so many amazing people. I couldn’t do it alone! If you’d like to be part of this mission, please consider a donation via Venmo to @Barbara-Klein-25 or through a purchase directly from my Wish List. I’ll be compiling the next big set of bags within the next month as we head into colder weather. Thank you!

A little of the Northern Lights beauty I found at Lake Ontario, NY

1 Comment

Different from Self-Care

8/20/2024

4 Comments

Self-kindness… it’s what the Invitation to Change (a wonderful program for those who love someone who struggles with substance use) invites people to offer themselves every week (or better yet, every day). Every chapter in The Invitation to Change: A Short Guide ends with “What is a kindness I can allow myself this week?” and the caution to not jump over this critical consideration. But what does it really mean? Self-kindness is different from self-care, though certainly linked.

I told a friend recently how hard I had been on myself, how much I had been beating myself up, comparing myself to others and falling short, how harsh my words had been to my own ears. She listened with sadness and a a little confusion, saying, “But you’re really good at self-care. You do a lot of things for yourself.”

That’s when I knew there was an important distinction to make between self-care and self-kindness. Between what goes on above ground and below the surface, in the mind and heart.

She’s right. I do a lot of things for myself. I get myself to appointments that help keep this body going the best I can. I talk with my counselor regularly. And even healing practitioners, who do such a great job caring for others, also struggle with applying that same kindness to themselves.   Why? Because they’re human. And human is messy…

One shared with me her own invitation into self-care in the middle of the night, beginning with “I’m going to soften my jaw.” Yes. That is self-kindness. Simple, but not natural or it wouldn’t have required an intentional reminder. She invited me to think of 3 things I could do to be kind to myself during my session on her table. I began by softening my face – I hold SO much tension there. My grief lives there. The mere softening led me to letting my tears bubble up, come out, and flow, allowing the sobs that had been held for too long. In the safety of this alone time, I could do that, and it was kind to do so.

I don’t consciously hold it together, but subconsciously, I do. Too much. So much that it has to come out. It's kind to allow my grief space and expression. I was afraid I’d sob uncontrollably the whole time once I began. I found my fears were unwarranted. By simply allowing myself the chance to cry, to feel my sadness and grief without shying away from it, it could rise up, come out, and move through. I didn’t need to shove the pain down or push it away. With kindness and tenderness, I could allow it a much-needed release. After a few minutes, I found myself feeling more peaceful, calm and present, and I could breathe more deeply. For over an hour, my simple kindness to myself was to soften my face, feel my feelings, let my tears come, and breathe, riding all the waves that came without chiding myself, questioning why or where this came from, and simply allowing true expression.

So, how is self-kindness different from self-compassion and self-care?

Self-care is often thought of as the things you do – taking a bubble bath, exercising, eating right, getting enough sleep, or getting to appointments that help your well-being. BUT those same things done from a place of harshness, judgment, or obligation aren’t necessarily self-kindness. If, while you’re exercising, you’re berating your jiggly thighs or your inability to do as much as you think you should be able to, is that really self-care? If you’re forcing yourself to go to the gym because you know you should exercise, but you hate the gym, does that count? If you’re beating yourself up for needing so much sleep or for eating out when you were just too tired to cook, how kind is that? If you’re carrying out acts of self-care while also being really mean to yourself, how can you make peace with yourself and bring in more kindness and compassion?

I’ve learned that true self-care is deeper, more subtle than the things you’re doing on the surface and I’ve reframed it as being true to and gentle with yourself, one moment at a time. A friend recently shared to her true self-care as intending to be as tender as she can be with her whole life. We talked about tending the spirit being different than getting a pedicure. Oh yes, soul care, spirit care, tending our tender hearts is definitely different. Our hearts and souls need time and attention beyond what’s happening on the surface. They’re deeply affected by what’s going on within. Without mindful attention, I miss the inner battle between what I know to be realistic and true and the opportunity to stop the downward spiral into perfectionistic striving and feeling “not enough…”

Self-compassion is a way of being - an attitude with which we turn toward ourselves. According to Kristin Neff, self-compassion researcher and teacher, self-compassion has 3 elements: mindfulness, self-kindness, and common humanity. Self-compassion invites us to be mindful, present, and to acknowledge our feelings, as we remember that we’re not alone – that other people feel the way we feel at one time or another. Self-compassion invites us to be with ourselves with kindness rather than judgment, the way we would a beloved child or friend. It may involve forgiveness or gentle reassurance when we feel we’ve messed up or we’re falling short.

Self-kindness is one element of self-compassion that comes through in our words, thoughts, and actions toward ourselves. Are we being understanding, gentle, allowing the messy, imperfect experience that is the very essence of being human? Are we beating ourselves up or tearing ourselves down, harshly criticizing or judging, expecting more from ourselves than we would anyone else? Expecting perfection often gets in the way of self-kindness. I should know better! I can’t believe I did that! How could I forget? When we thrash ourselves with thoughts like this, we are not allowing our humanity. We are not taking into account things like burn-out, stress, lack of sleep, grief, or fear that get in the way of clear thinking.

I’m ashamed to admit it, but I caught myself feeling and thinking, “I hate myself” one day. The harshness of this thought caught me by surprise. As much as I chastise myself with little slips of, “What an idiot… how could I?” hate isn’t an energy I often experience, and I didn’t really know where it came from. I certainly didn’t want to reinforce it, but I also didn’t want to shun it.

Self-kindness invited me to look at what it was all about, to see it came from my mind that told me I wasn’t doing enough compared to others. I felt burdened by too many mistakes in a short period of time. I didn’t understand how I’ve been grieving almost 17 months and was doing better earlier on, so I judged that something was very wrong with me.

In the early days and months after Nate’s death, I easily and genuinely extended myself “all the grace,” because I knew it wasn’t reasonable to expect much, or anything, of me. As time goes on, even though intellectually I know I’m still very early in this grief journey, my conditioning creeps in making me feel like I’ve fallen behind and urges me to play an impossible game of catch-up.

There’s a big difference between what I “know” and what I do. Intellectually I can say, “I just don’t have the capacity for XYZ…” but when XYZ don’t get done, the louder voice inside of me berates me, judges me for wasting another day when I had the time but not the energy or desire. People who care about me see what’s really needed and invite me to “just be.” To rest. To do nothing and let it be ok. I get it. I’ve been learning these ideas for decades and teaching them for over 10 years. And yet, I’m not sure I really know how to just be and truly feel at peace with myself in that space. How do you really do nothing? What does that look like?

Signs of self-unkindness:

Judgy, critical thoughts like “What is wrong with me? How could I have done that? How could I have forgotten this?” are prevalent in a world of not-so-kind.

Basing how ok I feel about myself upon whether the kitchen table is clear of last month’s mail (it wasn’t until a few minutes ago), or whether the hutch has been dusted (it most definitely has not been since Nate died), or if I’ve remembered to pay the bills on time (I didn’t this month), or if I’ve sent the cards I’ve been meaning to send for weeks (Nope! They’re sitting here in a pile waiting for me), or if I’ve worked on my book as much as I wanted to (you probably already guessed - I haven’t! Shocker!).

Pushing ourselves to be more or do more than is reasonable.

Burning the candle at both ends, exhausting ourselves trying to get all the things on the never-ending to-do list done.

Sacrificing our own well-being for what others need from us.

Overwhelming ourselves with worry.

These are some of the ways unkindness might show up. Take a moment to think about how it comes out for you.

Why is this self-kindness thing so hard?

Most of us have never been taught to be kind to ourselves, and instead learned to be “nice,” and “good,” generous, and thoughtful toward others. And those are all good things, but somehow our minds have twisted that to make us believe that others’ needs are more important than ours. That it’s selfish to even think about ourselves, much less be kind. That it’s narcissistic to focus on our needs.

Kindness ought to be extended simply because you are, not because of what youI’ve done or haven’t done. Kindness doesn’t need to be earned. But when we’re not being kind to myself, we forget all of that.

My counselor recently said to me, “We know ourselves through doing. We must learn to love  ourselves for simply being.” (or something like that – I hope you get the gist of it). Ugh! I know, I know, I know, and it’s still so hard to do in everyday life! I recognize that my upbringing taught me to value my productivity, my contribution, and so when I don’t have the energy to produce or contribute much, I struggle. I feel better when I’m bringing value and serving in a way that brings meaning.

Grief often leads me to fritter away a blessedly open day, which could be ok if I would be kind to myself about it. If I’d give myself permission to do nothing or to just putter and see where the day takes me, then maybe I could feel ok about it. But when I hold unreasonable, unspoken expectations that don’t align with the reality of my energy or mindset, there’s a huge risk that I’ll fall into a spiral of shame and shortcoming.

If you judge yourself by how much you do, what you accomplish, or how well you’re keeping up with the demands of life, even if you’re going through something really hard right now, even if you’re completely exhausted and drained, or swimming in grief or struggling with a loved one, how might you be a little gentler with yourself?

Ways to get to self-kindness:

Ask “What do I need in this moment?” Take the time to pause and tune in to respond with gentleness, kindness, and true care. I often forget to remember this key question that readily leads to self-kindness.

Liz Gilbert has a beautiful practice of conversing with Love (the giant force of unconditional Love that’s available to us all). Asking, “Love, what would you have me know?” and jotting down Love’s response can render surprisingly tender and supportive notes that reveal what we, in our humanness, might be missing.

Talk with someone when you’re struggling. Know who your safe people are - people who can go to this very vulnerable place with you. Who can hear you? On a very anxious day, I felt validated and supported when my husband listened and reflected back to me all that was weighing on me. I was definitely minimizing the list! It’s also helpful when a friend gently says, “Don’t talk to my friend that way!”

Put up post-it notes to remind yourself of who you really are or to take time for self-kindness – good to look at when you begin to swim in regret. Things that will make you smile or laugh. As a friend reflected, this is a way to shift your mindset and, “Drink in more love, rather than bathe in self-hatred.”

Pause, breathe, and put your hands on your heart - a simple gesture of self-compassion that lets you know you’re here for you. Listen to any guidance or insights that rise up or simply take the time to whisper softly or silently to yourself, “I’ve got you. I love you. We will get through this.” ❤️

What might self-kindness look like?

In essence, self-kindness begins by paying attention to how you’re treating yourself. Noticing if your inner dialogue is harsher than you’d use with anyone else. Being aware whether your choices are harmful or supportive to your well-being.

It can be as simple as choosing to soften your jaw or your face or your fists.

It could be opening up some white space on your calendar if you’re feeling particularly stretched or just need a little more time and space. If there’s something you’d like to reschedule, give yourself the grace to do so.

Making a pact with yourself that you’re not going to talk meanly about yourself – your body, your intelligence, your behaviors… whatever it is for you. A friend shared with me her conscious decision to catch herself in the act, and gently say, “Oh, I’m not doing that anymore.” Honestly, self-abuse doesn’t help and may just drive you more deeply into whatever it is you don’t want to be doing.

Bringing curiosity to yourself can free you from judgment – “I wonder what’s going on for me?” rather than immediately jumping to “What the heck is wrong with me?” Maybe nothing’s wrong. Create a little space to find out.

Asking for help and delegating what tasks you can when overwhelm is bearing down on you.

Instead of beating yourself up for not being able to hear, make an appointment with an audiologist to get things checked out and maybe getting some support!

Saying “no.” Stepping away from people or groups that drain your energy or bring you down.

Taking time for the people, activities, and practices that you know fill you up and nurture and nourish you well.

Taking a conscious social media break – there’s a lot brewing out there right now, folks! You have to digest everything you take in, so take some breaks.

Letting go of “should’s” and instead being true to what you know you want or need.

Saying “yes” to fun, to life, even if it doesn’t “make sense.” Some of my favorite moments come from spontaneity and ventures that might look ridiculous but bring me great joy – like traveling hours to see a band we love.

Letting go of unrealistic expectations and cutting yourself some slack when you don’t make the best choice or you’ve been a little judgy toward yourself – remember, you’re human. Let go of any worry of, “But aren’t I just letting myself off the hook? Don’t I need to hold myself accountable?” You can get back on track without beating yourself mercilessly for a slip. Accept the reality that slips will happen.

Why does it matter?

Because the kinder you are to yourself, the more loving and available you can be for life and the things and people that need you. Because you deserve your own loving care. Because life is stressful and self-kindness can help soothe that stress which contributes to better physical and mental health.

Here’s a beautiful song from the masterful Brandi Carlile that I invite you to play on repeat if you need to. I think I’m going to give it a go myself! Stay Gentle

What are your thoughts?

What gestures of self-kindness do you allow yourself? How do you know when you’re being unkind to you? What strategies do you have for coming back to self-kindness? Why does it matter to you? Please share so that we can build our reservoir full of ideas to turn to when the going gets rough. Life’s hard enough without us piling more on ourselves.

May you be peaceful. May you be happy. May you be kind – to yourself as well as to others.
May you know you are loved and soak in your worthiness for love all the way to your very core.

4 Comments

Tending Your Heart

2/19/2024

0 Comments

Image 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.

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 While Loving Your Child Through Addiction podcast

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Awareness, Recovery, & Retreat

10/14/2023

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August 31 is International Overdose Awareness Day - all around the world people gather to remember and honor the way too many lives lost to substance-related deaths. We grieve. We mourn. We come together to hope for recovery for those still here.

This year was my first from the perspective of having lost my son just 5 months earlier - 5 months to the day we cried over his casket to say our final goodbyes to his physical form. When invited to speak at our local Scotty B Overdose Awareness Day (created by another mother in memory of her beloved son), I didn’t skip a beat as I replied to the full-body goosebump “Yes.” I didn’t know why or even what I’d say, but I knew it was an authentic yes. That morning I reached out to several people asking, “What do I even have to offer? My son didn’t find recovery. My son died. How can I offer inspiration or hope?” I cried. Big tears. Lots of tears. I received their encouragement and gathered my thoughts, pulling together a message intended to raise awareness, to share Nate’s story, what I’ve learned over the past 30 years, what I wish I had known, and an appeal for greater kindness and compassion for all people.

My dear friend, a fellow angel mama, and I started the day at an Overdose Awareness Vigil in a part of the city where the need for compassionate, non-judgmental support and care is immense. We sat in a circle with people in recovery, people in active use, family members, friends, and allies, and people at dire risk. We shared pizza and memories of those lost. We shared what called us to this circle that day. We learned how to use Naloxone to save a life. We learned about Overdose Prevention Centers and the critical need for them, and we shared space, time, and life. It was beautiful. Heart-touching. Heart-wrenching, and heart-opening.

From there over to Scotty B Day where I met and visited with people in the recovery community - some of the most authentic, sensitive, creative, beautiful people in the world. I shared table with my friend, the beautiful writer, Jennifer Collins. In addition to selling my book, I had care bags to give away for those in need, along with Nate’s cards (which have his picture and the messages “I see you. You matter. You are not alone.” and local resource numbers on them) and Never Use Alone cards. I watched as one young man picked up Nate’s card and withered into a gut-punching, disbelieving gasp… “No, no, no… tell me it’s not true…” He had been Nate’s neighbor in supportive housing. “He was doing well…” his confusion voiced as he took in this news. Yeah. He was. Until he wasn’t. Awareness awakening.

After I spoke (you can listen to the talk here), I had the beautiful opportunity to connect with so many open-hearted people. Parents who wanted to know more about the Invitation to Change, who longed for a different way to be with their loved ones. Parents who heard our story and committed to being with their young ones differently - to let them be who they are, whether they are 3, 9, 11, or 15. Parents who had lost kids somewhat guiltily confessing, “I did the whole enabling thing…” because they had gone to their child, supported them, loved them. I offered a reframe: “Sounds like you loved your kid. There is no need to apologize for that. Ever.” Phew. Exhale. No need for shame. You loved your child, as did I. Let’s let the stories go, drop this all-too-common cultural narrative, and begin to heal around this loss. Find our recovery. Other people I met love people in active use, kids who are on the streets, at great risk; these people are doing what they can to love them well, to support them, while also taking care of themselves. There’s room for it all. Awareness. Connection. You’re not alone. One tiny moment at a time…it’s enough.

It was a beautiful, encouraging, uplifting, devastating, heart-opening, heart-wrenching day. I wobbled away from the podium, away from the space, and met up with my husband to celebrate, debrief, and cry. I was wrung out and filled up all at once.

The next day kicked off National Recovery Month. And, I felt myself slide into a valley. It had taken a ton of energy to prepare for Overdose Awareness Day, only a little over a month after Nate’s memorial service. It was time for me to immerse deeply into my own recovery. After putting myself out there, there was a natural reaction to pull back, go within, hunker down, and restore myself. You might have experienced something similar in your own life. Even as I continued to post support and encouragement for the recovery movement, for individual and family recovery, I was heading into a gentle crash and into my next phase of recovery.

Here's what I know about recovery: it begins within and is a deeply personal journey. As my friend, Chris’s shirt says, “Recovery is any Positive Action.” It’s not clear, straightforward, or linear. It is often painful and painstakingly hard. Recovery can only be approached and managed one minute at a time. It requires a leap of faith into the unknown, hoping that the effort will be worth it. Recovery requires letting go of tried-and-true comfort and survival tactics to find new, less certain ways to be. It calls us to look at past pain, to open our hearts to grieve what might have been as we lean into what’s here, and step toward what’s possible.

Recovery calls us inward to reconnect with ourselves – our hearts, our spirits, to touch what’s true and to connect with what’s available to us. Anything that requires a lot of energy, particularly emotional energy, will invite a period of respite and recovery afterwards. Awareness. Can we pay attention to the needs of our body, mind, heart, and spirit and find a way to honor that need?

The first weeks after Overdose Awareness Day were very uncomfortable as I found myself confronting some dark, haunting questions: What if? What if I had seen how desperately Nate was spiraling out of control and had insisted he come to dinner with us the night he dropped off the grid? What if I had invited him to stay with us for the weekend the last time I last saw him, 6 days before he died? Would he still be here? I suspect this is a natural grief response, grasping for what might have been different. Not so much blame, but a desperate wish that I had known and had the chance to make different choices. Recovery calls us to face our shadows in order to move forward, so I met myself there and sunk into the feelings and thoughts that swept through.

After a couple of weeks in intentional recovery mode, I also added retreat into my life, packing up and getting away from home, from Rochester with all its ghosts and ghostly places. First I headed off with my husband, Tom, to hole up in a hotel and sleep, read, and write some overdue cards, while he worked.

Next, we headed off to a massive music festival where we could easily get lost in the crowd in Louisville, Kentucky. We savored an evening with Brandi Carlile (I just love her...sigh). Total anonymity and shared love of a great artist held us in this musical escape.

Then Tom dropped me off at a rustic retreat center in the mountains of western North Carolina for a women’s retreat – my first big social space with mostly unknown women since Nate’s death. I was welcomed with huge hugs from two loving women, soul sisters I’ve known for almost a decade, women who have answered the call to show up for this deep mama loss. I found my way to my remote charming cabin by the creek and settled myself into it for a musty nap, the creek offering its gentle natural white noise. And I bawled. I let my tears soak my pillow. I let my body shake as sobs moved through me. In this quiet space of solitude, I let myself feel the fear of something happening to Tom, and felt the deep awareness of how desperately I need him to be ok, to be safe, to stay alive. How much I need him. Period.

Eventually sleep found me, and after a refreshing rest, I was able to enter retreat tentatively, gingerly, dosing out bits of my current reality as I was able. Giving myself the gift of my own deep attention and care – what did I need? Feel? Want? Following this inquiry, moment by moment, without expectation, without judgment. Allowing space for the bereaved mother, the open-hearted dancer, the tearful singer, the curious writer, and all the bits of me to be present. Allowing the silence to deepen my connection to myself. I let myself be filled up, sharing space and energy with other women, each on her own journey, each in her own space, facing her own longings, fears, awakenings, awareness, and insights as retreat worked on us. It was healing, cathartic, transformative, and I am deeply grateful for it all.

As we cycle through life, when we can allow ourselves to follow Awareness, Recovery, and Retreat, we grow. We evolve. We let go. We connect. We become. The next iteration of who we are in this moment of life emerges. We open to what’s possible. We face hard truths. We heal. And then we do it all over again. Maybe this is all life asks of us.

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I Can't____, but I CAN...

8/22/2023

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Image by Mohamed Hassan from Pixabay

This week feeds off of last week’s “Yes, and…” post because life is built upon those things we say “yes” to and the things we choose to do. I find myself reflecting on the things I can’t do, while opening to what I can. Where I choose to focus changes the energy I feel inside - whether it’s heavy and dark or lighter and expansive. And also, how I show up to life, how I feel in life, and how I move with life.

There’s much that I can’t do, and there is also much that I can. The key is to remember choice. I can sit on my deck or in my yard in the morning or night, appreciating, savoring that I get to live in this place of beauty, listening to my fellow critters…peepers, birds, cicadas, squirrels… letting them be a symphony to my ear and a balm to my soul.

I can’t control other people’s negative, aggressive behavior (or ever understand why an elderly man in our neighborhood feels a need to ride around on his scooter with a nasty flag flying), but I can choose how I want to show up to this life that is mine. I can build up my own strength and health. I can write, speak, and teach, getting messages of compassion and fresh perspective and possibility out to the world. I can do what I can to “leave behind the world a better way” as the Avett Brothers say in “Salvation Song.”

I can create, find, and choose joy and peace. I can cultivate gratitude, wonder, and awe. I can do what I can to show up with mindful presence. I can choose who I am and how I want to be with the life I have been gifted. If you’d like to consider what a gift this day is, please take a few moments to watch A Grateful Day with Br. David Steindl-Rast.

While I can’t help my own son any longer, I can serve others, people who are someone else’s child. So, this week, I have taken steps to put together care bags to hand out to people who are homeless, who stand on the corners with scrawled signs, asking for some morsel of kindness. Instead of looking the other way (which I can’t any more, since I know any one of those people could have been my son on any given day), I now look for opportunities to look these people in the eye, to offer at least my love and a smile if I have nothing else to give. But I also want to give more. To extend a hand of kindness to someone who too many look away from, thinking “you can’t save everyone” or “why don’t they go get a job?” or who knows what else.

And so, I am compiling care bags with snacks, personal supplies, and resource cards for #Neverusealone and local supports for harm reduction and housing. Since Nate died, I’ve wanted to create cards with his picture on them. Cards that say “in loving memory of Nate, forever 29” and “I see you. You matter. Please take care. You are not alone.” Cards that list local numbers which might actually offer help when and if a person reaches out.

This week I created and ordered those cards. You too can download and print the Never Use Alone resources here and have them handy when you offer a little money or your kindness to a person in need. I put together a wish list on Amazon so that others could easily and quickly buy items to help me fulfill this mission. If you’d like to be one of those angels, I welcome your support and you can find that list here, or email me if you’d like to send a check or online payment for this purpose.

As I look at the cards with my son’s loving gaze and I pull together the items that I hope will brighten someone’s day, my heart feels full and grateful that I can serve in this way.

I can choose to live, even though Nate and so many don’t. I can live for them, to honor their lives. I can focus on what I can do and be, which will keep me moving forward rather than staying stuck in the agony of what I can’t do. I can do it honestly, authentically, imperfectly, with integrity that allows all of the human experience as part of it. I can continue to look for, notice, pause, and savor the beauty that is here every single day, rather than dwelling on the ugly that is much louder and for some reason highlighted by the news and social media. It seems more prevalent, but I doubt it really is.

I can do what I can to brighten another person’s day, simply by offering a smile or holding a door, saying “thank you,” letting someone in in traffic. It doesn’t have to be costly. And, when able, I can donate time or money, buy someone’s drive-through order without them even knowing (that’s so much fun!). There are opportunities for kindness every day.

I can do what I can to help others - to be kind, compassionate, generous, and loving. And, I can only hope that it makes a difference. I can’t save my son’s or anyone’s life, but maybe I can make a difference to someone. It’s certainly worth a try. Kindness and compassion are in short supply. Let’s do what we can. Let us be loving forces of light in this world. That’s who my son was, and it’s who I hope to be as well. Out of pain rises purpose and passion to do what I can.

A lot of what we think we can’t do may be things we simply haven’t learned yet or trained for (more of a “I can’t yet…” or “I don’t know if I can because I’ve never tried.”) We may surprise ourselves if we open to the possibility that maybe we can. Don’t close the door too soon. And for the things you know you can’t do, I invite you to look at what you can do instead. If you can’t help someone you love, who can you serve? If you can’t do one activity you wish you could, what can you do as an alternative? If you don’t have the financial means to do something, what might be a nice, affordable substitute? Shifting our focus from what we can’t do, to what we might be able to or what we can, can make a world of difference.

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Yes, and... Life is One Big Improv

8/14/2023

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I got together with a friend/teacher/mentor/coach the other day and I’m so glad I did. As we sat outdoors, enjoying our coffee and lemonade, we talked for over 2 hours about life, death, struggle, and joy. We shared our truths and our hearts. So grateful for precious 1:1 time like this - real conversation, heartfelt connection and care for one another, true interest in what’s going on in each other’s worlds. This man and I do not shy away from the hard topics. We dive right in. But we don’t wallow in the misery, by any means. He also reminded me about joy and the ability to choose.

He reignited within me a desire for joy by sharing his commitment to only take on work that brings him joy. Even in important, life-altering work, joy is possible. Even with something as heavy as supporting people around substance use and recovery, joy is possible. I want to work with people who are open to wonder, awe, delight, even in the hardest and heaviest of times. No doubt watching a loved one struggle, fearing for their life, or losing them certainly are some of the hardest, scariest, heaviest times I’ve known.

And yet, even after Nate’s death, there are turkeys in wildly unexpected places, owls everywhere, feathers dropping out of nowhere, song lyrics, people appearing out of the blue to amaze and delight us, to touch our hearts, to wake us up to the mystery beyond what our little human minds understand. Even now he reminds me to be touched by the life we shared, the moments of joy and delight, the laughter, the not-so-serious times before things got so serious, and even the joy we found while they were very serious.

I don’t need to carry the yoke of his death around my neck forever because the delights of life are also still available to me. Wonder and awe are everywhere if my eyes are attuned to look for them. Joy dances in my heart, waiting to be set free. At a campfire, watching grown women blow bubbles, listening to heart-wrenching music with my sister while coyotes yip and yap in the nearby hedge, feeling both invigorated and a little terrified all at once. Dancing and singing at a P!nk concert, surrounded by glitter, boas, pink tie-dye, and neon landscapes, holding my breath while she soars overhead, praying that cable and harness hold. Taking in the early morning sun as it casts its light on the hills, on the lake. Appreciating moments of silence, the stillness of this day. The fact that I get another day. That I get to have time with friends who are delightful rays of sunshine. Getting to connect with one of Nate’s close friends, and being able to bake for her and get to know him through her heart and eyes. Time for yoga, time to clean if and when I feel like it. Making time to write and letting go of any rules I might have once held about what a blog should be. All these things carry their own kind of miraculous wonder and awe.

Yes, there is a lot of shit in the world. A lot of angry, scared, exasperated, and aggressive people out there. I see them every time I hit the highway - their energy shouts at me from their window stickers and their rapid pole-positioning. I see them online venting their frustrations and accusations. People who are afraid act out; they try to control because too much feels out of control. I get it. I’ve been there.

And yet… music is still being made, gorgeous cakes are being baked and decorated, birds still sing, butterflies dance unaware of this craziness, campfire flames leap and kiss marshmallows to golden perfection, stories are shared, memories held, poems melt hearts, dreams ignite, and beauty is everywhere.

If only we slow down enough to notice, even when our hearts are broken, love and wonder, awe and delight are everywhere, available, waiting. Each day, each moment offering a new beginning. We do not need to buy into the story that life must be a slog. We do not need to take on the “poor me” persona that comes when people know you’ve had a devastating loss, are facing a dire challenge, or are in treatment for a disease they’re calling fatal. Hope can remain. Miracles abound. Truly.

Sometimes it’s a game to catch Nate’s signs and to simply delight in them. I let him know I get it. I see him. I hear him. I feel it. I laugh. I thank him.

Life does not have to be a burden to bear. Couples do not have to play out the sitcom roles of annoying and being annoyed with one another. Workers do not have to surrender their joy for a job they hate, be available for it when they have nothing left to give or when they’re supposed to be done for the day. No one is obligated to be on call all the time. Turn off the damn phone and be present with the people right here, to this moment offering itself for your delight.

We can take back the joy. Even after the unimaginable has pierced our hearts. Our hearts still long for love, laughter, excitement, delight. They really, really do. Don’t worry. It doesn’t erase the pain or negate the loss. But, living in endless suffering honors no one. Living in constant fear serves no one. Pushing beyond the point of exhaustion is good for no one. So, bring on the joy. Show up to life and embrace it wildly.

Let life live through you. Yes, I am broken hearted at the loss of my son, and still I get up each day and engage with life. Yes, I wish he were still here and we had one more chance, and we don’t, so I choose how I will continue to live.

Where can you find ways to say, “Yes, this bad thing has happened or is happening, and… still I will ____ (have fun, find delight, rest, create peace, etc., whatever is true for you).” or “Yes, I do have this responsibility/commitment/obligation, and still I can_____________”

Where can you free yourself to live life a little less burdened and a little more playful? Where can you get curious? What opportunities might you give yourself? Because one thing I now know for sure is that life is one big improv. We don’t know what will be thrown our way, and so it’s up to us to choose, moment by moment how to respond. How to engage.

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Birth, Death, and Renewal

8/10/2023

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Image by Daniel Kirsch from Pixabay

Birth, Death, & Renewal
                by Barb Klein

Birth, death, and renewal -
                it’s nature’s way

But what is “dead” is never truly gone.
It lives on inside what’s new
It informs and transforms what remains
                What is born anew

What was is the foundation
                for what will be

Things change, fall apart, evolve, devolve
All touched, shaped by what was

We are never separate from our past -
                it’s part of the web we weave for today, tomorrow

Skins are shed,
energy lives on
Hearts moved and shaped
                by love that has been
                and love that lives on

Seasons
Cycles
Never-ending
Unbroken

What will be
                rises from the ashes of what was

Hearts, homes, families
                shift, change, fall away, become
                as people move and people die

Who I was, who we were
Forever changed by your birth, your death,
                your presence

You cannot be lost to us
You are woven into the fabric of our beings -
part of what makes us who we are

We love differently
We live differently
We speak and act and move and are moved differently
                because of you

Our very cells are changed
                because you were here,
                because you are here

We can never unknow you,
                unfeel you,
                forget you

You make us us…
Your light fills our hearts,
Your life fuels our souls -
                guides our way, our mission, our purpose

We are forever changed
                for having shared this life with you

Thank you for the gift of your being
Thank you for being
Thank you for being part of us,
                forever and always

This poem woke me up the other day and needed to be captured right away. It brought with it an awareness of the truth about nature’s cycle of birth, death, and renewal - not only of a person, but of people who live on after a death. Families, friends, communities, are affected by one another. Once touched by someone, we are forever informed by those who have landed in our hearts and souls.

Yes, we are shaken, broken apart by loss - death, moves, endings and beginnings - but, what rises from these losses is built upon the past. What was, who was, lessons learned, hearts opened, insights gained are all beacons to what will become. To who we will become.

Perhaps grief is grist for the mill. It works on us, within us, reshaping who and what comes next. It’s part of the process - an integral, vital, and powerful force for growth and birth and transformation. This insight is feeling very alive within me, and I am grateful for that.

We are forever peeling away layers, touched by what was, who was, what’s happened. We are fueled by it one way or the other as we step into this next chapter, this next episode of the journey called life.

Our family is in the midst of so much change. Nate’s death has shaken us, rocked us to the core. His life and our experiences with him have shown us so much, too much, and yet not enough. We can never be who we were before - before he was here, before we lived through it all, before he died. There is no “going back” to normal, to how things used to be for any of us, ever. Each moment informs the next. Opens us to what’s to come.

For me it inspired and fills me with purpose. Ignites my passion to create change - change in a world, in ways I never would have imagined had Nate not been a part of my experience. Yesterday I put his photo boards up all around our sunroom. Everywhere I look, I see Nate’s face, his expression, moments of experiences with him and others. Every memory, every smile, every tear has etched a place in my heart, planted a seed from which I grow. Building the foundation upon which I live - the platform from which I launch myself into this new day. My words, thoughts, actions, imagination all touched by what was.

There’s a metaphor here that I’m not quite catching yet. Maybe compost. The past dissolves, morphs not into something that’s gone, but as fertilizer, nutrient for what’s to come. This is all very powerful and allows for creation, birth, evolution rather than simply slipping into feeling a victim.
It empowers me to feel the knowing of this. Of course there is still sadness and loss - how would there not be? These emotions also churn and stir things up, breaking apart what was to build anew. Just as forests are reborn after devastating fires, so too are hearts and people. (John Roedel has written a beautiful poem about this called “Super bloom” A poem we used in Nate’s memorial service).

Let us be touched by the love, by the loss so that we remember to live.

Change - letting go, accepting moves us forward. As people move on, our dynamics will change. The nature of our days will be different. What we need to do. What we get to do different than before. How we spend our energy, our money, our time, different, but affected deeply by their presence. Forever changed by our time together, by our love, by our growth as a group of beings interconnected always.

I smile as I feel Nate’s presence all around. The presence of loved ones alive and gone - moments that have woven this tapestry of my life. The beauty that makes me me.

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Going On...Even when Life is Forever Changed

5/5/2023

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Image 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.

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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