Where is she?

holistically: holistic

I look for her. Sometimes unconsciously. My heart's muscle memory grabs for her when a familiar song comes on, I watch a movie, I go somewhere, I see a certain colour or hear a certain sound... you get the picture. The triggers can be subtle, the triggers can be obvious, or they can be random as... well... random. When I can't find my best friend and the realization settles in like poison that she's not coming back, I droop. I get numb. I ache. I feel lost.

I know that feeling well and if you've ever lost someone, you may have felt it, too. When my father died it was the same thing: lumbering around life, looking for him, looking for a shred of his presence to ease my pain.

Within the feeling of being lost more recently, came a realization: I'm not only looking for her and for my father, I'm looking for me. I'm trying to find who I was and who I am now that all of this has happened.

The notion of searching for oneself sounds cliché but that's because it's common. We want to feel whole. We want to feel as though we know ourselves best and be confident in who that is. The problem is that we don't want to do the work just yet. In pain it becomes difficult to muster strength to change or assimilate new information. Basic tasks have to be relearned anyway and that seems to be where most energy goes after a loss.

That said, if you find a shred of hope or light, your gaze can shift toward the light. Yes, we can also start looking in darker places. It's ok to dabble sometimes as long as you don't stay there. In terms of the lighter side of things, I turned to the usual suspects the most (friends, family, my cats). Or my bed. Lately, however, I've turned to podcasts.

The podcast journey started because of my genius, beautiful sister-in-law. Instead of jamming out to tunes in the car, she and her husband listen to an incredibly engaging podcast called Serial. You can listen to this podcast on whatever app you desire (both Apple and Android stores should have a compatible app). I use CastBox (http://castbox.fm/).

Being me, I eagerly began subscribing to any and every podcast that tickled my fancy. Plenty of podcasts exist for everything from self-help to learning French to Science to Serial's uncanny ability to plunge you into the vortex of a single case's every winding, curvy detail for a season.

One podcast took me by surprise. Sure, I support happy, rainbow-filled literature, websites, discussions, etc. However, most of the time, I crave something more real and down to earth. Hence, when I subscribed to Vibrant Happy Women, I had my doubts but a part of me craved the sunshine that the title promised. Well, it's not all sunshine and rainbows. It's better.

Each episode focuses on a woman who has been through some shit. I believe the first one I listened to featured a mom from the Sandy Hook incident back in 2012. Her humanity astounded me. I was humbled, inspired, and dumbfounded by her forgiving, beautiful perspective on the world. I ended that podcast feeling that if she could forgive and see things in a new light, then why can't I?!

Another episode featured a woman who struggled with depression and anxiety. Now that is something all too many of us can identify with. Again, I felt humbled, inspired, and wanted to shift my thinking on my own life.

I've listened to about 15 episodes now. All feature different women who have gone through different plights of varying magnitudes and their transformations have been anywhere from subtle to ginormous. The captain of the podcast ship is Jen Riday. She's a life coach and a calming, warm presence. A magnificent force and woman herself, she curates other magnificent women to show us that we're all so different and so much the same.

So what the hell have I found on this podcast journey? Myself. Not a whole being or formula or graph that denotes specific qualities and emotions, but humble truths that have always been there but have been in hiding.

The first truth: we've ALL gone through something that we found difficult and/or are still going through it. Be kind--to yourself and to others. It's easier than you think.

The second and perhaps most important truth: you have to help yourself before you can help others.

Every woman on Jen's show is asked what some of their favourite quotes are, what they've been through, how they've come out of it, and what advice would they give to others. The main answer to the advice question was answered in a few ways, but a couple of note are the airplane analogy (put your own oxygen mask on first), or simply that you need to take care of yourself before and in order to take care of others. I addressed this issue in a previous post, "Physician: Heal Thyself." I believed the notion when I wrote it, but I didn't quite grasp that I could do it myself until I started hearing other women talk about it.

That's a paradox, I know: relying on other women to tell me I can do something that's supposed to be self-driving. Well, it's true. Because of these women I've only ever heard and never seen, I started to realize that I only have to look two places in order to help and find myself: to other people, and in the mirror. I feel so different and inadequate compared to others sometimes, until I hear their vulnerability and strength. I hear a voice inside me that says "Yes! I've felt that way!" or "OMG you do that TOO?!" I feel connected to something deeper than lil' ol' me.

When I look in the mirror, I start to see me. I start to see that I have some of the qualities these women have: resilience, vulnerability, strength, fallibility, and humanity. Sure, I can strive for other things throughout my life but those are more material or superficial goals. We certainly get wrapped up in those material goals: lose weight, be physically stronger, read a thousand books, be an early morning person and a social butterfly, know all the things, etc. The qualities (resilience, vulnerability, etc.) I mentioned before these material things are timeless and priceless.

Resilience is not something you can achieve through a 30 day program or a Facebook group challenge. It's inherent in all of us and is stoked when we're tested by life's trials. It's there. All you have to do is look back when you've struggled. If you're still alive, then you were resilient. Cut yourself some damn slack.

All you have to do is look in the mirror and realize that you have what it takes because you are you. I have what it takes to thrive because I am me. The people I lost loved me (thank God for that!). That love stemmed from a connection and recognition of similar qualities in each other. Take a moment and think about why you love certain people in your life. I bet you can come up with a few common qualities between them and lil' ol' you.

So maybe love yourself a little bit more. Cut yourself some slack. It's ok to look for yourself sometimes, but I challenge you to find yourself sometimes, too.

The perfectly imperfect

holistically: emotional, social

There's been a theme here since March: loss, grieving, and dealing with pain. I promise there's growth in here, hope, and some reassurance!

So. After going through some photos of my best friend who passed away and me, I saw a comment from my dear friend's mom (she's basically an aunt to me) that said "perfect friendship." Queue emotional tidal wave of appreciation and love to my friend and her momma. 

It got me thinking. About what? Glad you asked.

Death has a twisted way of adding to the pain of loss by ailing us with thoughts of guilt, regret, what ifs, and a sense that somehow we screwed up by not being or doing more. I've thought of many moments, conversations, unspoken words that make me ache with all the thoughts I've mentioned above. 

Our friendship was not perfect in the sense that it was not without its struggles. While we didn't fight or backstab each other, we had our issues, tensions, and what we euphemistically called "discussions." Our affection, bond, and sisterly love transcended formality and normal convention, though and transcended any struggle we came across. And that, my friends, is what made my friendship with her perfect (in a deeper, more meaningful sense).

When she passed, I was pissed off. I still am, but the bubbling rage has subsided (for now). I was also livid and tormented by comments made by people who meant well but had a tendency to diminish our deep relationship into something so futile and meaningless. I won't go into detail, but when people don't have a comfort level in how to deal with grief, they can say some things that are well-intentioned but naive. Comments that made it sound like I was doing her a favour by being her friend. Or that it was lucky she didn't have "insert terminal illness here." 

I've thought long and hard on these two sentiments and here's the thing: they're not ok because they diminish her immense impact on all our lives---her extreme importance in her relationships with each person grieving her loss. One death is not worse than the other, no matter the cause. The pain felt by those who are grieving cannot be measured by how long the deceased was suffering due to an illness, nor if the person was murdered, caught in the wrong place at the wrong time, or another cause. The bottom line in this case is that her entire family, squad, loved ones, friends all lost her so suddenly that it knocked the breath out of us so that we lost some of our own lifeforce, too. A piece of us will always be missing now. It didn't matter how it happened, just that it did happen.

Picture a photograph of you with your best friend. Now picture that an invisible hand just picks up your friend and poof! She's gone. That dumbfoundedness that you feel? yeah. That's accurate. But I digress.

Onto the next point of the whole "favour" thing. Ready for a truthbomb? She saved my life so many times that I can't count. True friendship is a two-way street filled with give and take. We leaned on each other all the time. We had our tensions here and there, yes, but we respected each other enough to discuss things and do a little thing required in all effective relationships: communicate. Friendship is no favour: it's a gift that two people choose to honour and nurture together. She did me the favour, folks. She opened her (huge) heart to me and let me in. That is the ultimate gift and favour.

Ranting aside, despite how my thoughts may wander and start doubting if I was a good friend or not, if I could have been there more, etc., I am so bloody grateful for our friendship. Rather, our "sistership." We chose each other. I'll be forever grateful to God (or whatever power you believe in) for putting us on this planet together. I have incredible memories with her! I've met incredible people because of her! Her family inspires me to hold on to my own family and never let go because life is truly short. Cliche, yes, but there's truth to that one.

No matter why or how someone passes away, I hope that you feel able to embrace your pain, emotions, and get the support you deserve to deal with something so immense.

What's more, I hope you can step back and remember the good memories with that person. While it may seem counterintuitive, there's perfection in our flaws and our ability to deal with growing pains and joys in a friendship. There's perfection in a love that is so strong it made family out of strangers. 

So, yes: our friendship is perfect because it's human, full of love, and will endure whatever time throws our way.

What relationships are perfectly imperfect in your lives? :) 

Grief

holistically: emotional
and everything else

Have you seen the movie Homeward Bound? If you have, good on you. If you haven't, then I suggest you either watch it or continue under the warning that there are some spoilers. You were warned.
You were.

Remember the scene where Shadow gets stuck in that awful mud hole? He whimpers and paws frantically to get out of it while his companions try to help him, but he falls clumsily back into the mire for what seems like forever?

That's grief.

You paw and claw out of the muck and mire but you slide back down and fall on your ass. Yup. It's messy, unpredictable, but you know it's a tough mothertrucker to get out of. There is no formula, rhyme or reason.Your friends and family worry about you getting out and try wonderful and sometimes silly things to help you out. Or they're in there with you, fighting the (not so) good fight.  If they're on the outside, they'll shout suggestions, commands, encouragements, declarations of love, concern, sometimes even anger... "GET OUT!" "YOU CAN DO IT!" "KEEP TRYING!"

In case you hadn't guessed or don't know me, I'm currently grieving. I've been through this before, as many of you have, but I'm an adult this time around. The difference between then and now? Swearwords and alcohol are available (allowed).

My first dance with grief started when I was 7 years old. I've grown older since then and hopefully somewhat wiser. However, grief doesn't give a shit. It throws you into a pit and makes you feel like that scared, helpless 7 year old (except with a bottle of tequila in your grasp). The mud starts to dry up with each happy moment or memory, and you think you have enough traction to climb out. Sadness creeps in and starts to make it rain. Bye bye traction. Or maybe anger sweeps in, makes it pour, makes it rain ice pellets that you can't escape from. All you can do is sit or stand there and scream. You're not getting out today.

Then the happy memories come back... the hope. Whether or not the sun comes out, it has at least stopped raining long enough to catch your breath. You don't quite feel like "you" yet, but you don't feel like a worthless piece of shit, either.

I don't know if you remember in the movie, but Shadow makes it out. How? No idea. Some may say it got dry enough for him to climb, others may say a stick or board was there that helped him, still others may say "dog magic" or "who cares?!". The point is, he made it out (much to his family's joyous relief). Shadow survived.

Ironic name, really: Shadow. Grief does stick with you once you're out of the pit like a shadow. But I digress.

Shadow climbed out of the pit. You can climb out of grief.

Unfortunately, as this isn't the world of voice-over animals who survive amazing (impossible?) odds, there won't be a music cue or time limit on a film reel to tell you when you'll get out of the pit. The "when" isn't the point, actually. "If" is the point.

Will you make it out?

For those of you who've been through loss and grief, you clearly made it out. Even if you're still muddy years after, you made it out. So did I. Let's not analyze our performance too much, ok? Let's just give this a pass/fail. We're alive. That's a pass!

I'll climb out of this one. One day [insert emo face here]

In case you hadn't noticed, I also use humour as a coping mechanism.

Carrying on: being an adult is simultaneously helpful and maddening for dealing with grief. It's helpful in the ways I've already mentioned (larger vocabulary and access to sweet sweet scotch), but maddening in that your logic can name all the feelings you're going through and the stages of grief, but it matters ZERO PERCENT. Your feelings certainly don't give a shit. They hit, smack, kick, tickle, slap, punch, and stab you whenever they want, however they want, and for however long they want. You can name them all you want: it won't matter. They're still comin'.

This is normal. Remember that.

So what do you do to avoid grief? You don't. Sorry.

But you can do something radical once you're in the pit. Be kind to yourself. Feel the feelings. Take it hour by hour or minute by minute if you have to. Yes, the pain can be strong enough to make you want to do horrible things or numb up and waste away. Like phobias, the best way to deal with grief is to feel it and face it. It sucks. I'm not going to sugarcoat that. As for your onlookers, cheering squad, mockers, whoever: pay attention to the ones who love you and who you love. These are the ones who "get it." They likely have been through grief before, too. They don't make your pain about them or your grieving process about them. It's your ass in the pit: not theirs.

There will be those people who give you hope through it all, which will feel impossible until you feel them near. I hope you experience this if you have to go through this at all. They're earth angels. They'll be there for you no matter how messy you get. Chances are, they've been where you are. They'll let you be who you are, feel what you feel, and only interfere when you start digging yourself into a dangerous place from which you may not return.

Listen to those people.

There will be people who mean well but who don't know how to deal with other people in pain. That's their cross to bear: not yours. This doesn't make them bad or wrong; it simply means that you don't need to expend what little energy you'll have on them. That's ok.

You'll make it out. Keep going. Climb. Or just sit and bark a lot until you get bored, the music in your head swells like the ending of a movie, and you magic your way to higher ground. I won't judge. My cats are sometimes my greatest therapists, so really. I can't judge.

Good luck to you. I'm done pawing at the muddy walls for the day. Time for a break before I go at 'er again tomorrow.

the Paradox of marriage

holistically: holistic :)

I'm getting married soon--we're talking less-than-20-days soon!

I am so excited that I could burst!  The wedding will be beautiful: smallish (just under 80 people), a church ceremony, and a reception at a gorgeous inn.

The marriage will be even more beautiful.

Before all this loveliness was planned and decided on, I had to define why I, Ashley, wanted to get married in the first place.  AND, what we (my fiance and I) thought of marriage as a couple?  (Thank you, my love for asking me, by the way!!) Since I resolved with myself why I wanted to marry, I've been approached by other people who want to know why I want to tie the knot.

Lots of pondering and soul-searching has gone on these last couple years because of this. I reflected on my identity as a faith-filled person, woman, feminist, bisexual human being, and tried to find where I stand with other "labels" in my life: what they mean to me, and how they're incorporated into my thoughts on marriage.  Let's focus on the first "label," though: faith.  Faith holds huge importance in my life.  With faith, too, comes the question of religion.

My relationship with the Church (Roman Catholic, that is) has been complicated, to say the least.  I won't get into all the details.  The short version is that it's still complicated, but I do have tremendous faith.  Faith in what?  A higher power (God), heaven, love, angels, forgiveness, and the idea that we're all human and deserve dignity. I believe in blessings, miracles, and the profundity of certain sacraments and milestones in life.

Marriage is one of those sacraments; while I do not agree with the Church's or society's stance on several issues, I do believe in the meaning of a marriage rite through the church as a blessing of a union between two people (whatever gender identity and/or sexual orientation).  I believe in the symbolic unification and sacred promise that two people go through in a marriage rite (be it Catholic or non-denominational or whatever!).  To me, marriage rites transcend simple promises and create a palpable and yet spiritual bond between two people who made the decision to dedicate their lives to each other.  That dedication is hugely intense and beautiful.  It's not something to be trifled with or made light of :).

Herein lies the paradox about this whole marriage thing. Marriage is sacred.  It is something to take seriously.  However, at the same time, it's something that is incredibly freeing and most uplifting.  To break it down a wee bit....

The serious bits
My beliefs underlying a marital promise transcends simply saying "I do" and goes so far as to say that God has blessed the promise my fiancé and I will be making to each other.  Through thick and thin, through the great times and the hard times, we have God, our families and friends, and the Church as our witnesses to the fact that we are dedicating our souls' journeys to each other and our future as a couple/family.  Breaking that promise and bond means breaking something sacred.

In my humble opinion, marriage needs to mean SOMETHING to you other than "yay! a wedding!" if you want it to last and you want it to be meaningful.  Weddings are lovely and fun and all, sure.  But they are not worth a lifetime of pain.

Do I think that you need to stay in a marriage if it's already broken, though?  Hell no. That's where I may differ from certain views.

Nothing in life is 1000% certain and people do change (shocking!). I do believe that marriage is something to enter into after serious reflection and with some certainty that you're willing to make sacrifices with and for another person.  I don't believe in throwing in the towel or tapping out when things get tough.

But, if you've tried it all and it won't mend, OR if there's abusive anything, time to go!

Now for the fun bits...
Have I mentioned how stoked I am to be married to my love?  I CAN'T WAIT!!!!!
That pic should say "weeeeee!!"

I digress.

Now that we have all the serious stuff out of the way, let's talk how AWESOME marriage can be, ok?  Marriage will allow me to live out my days with my best friend, lover, partner-in-crime, companion and whatever other cutsie names we have for each other (I know you do to.... don't lie... everybody has 'em!).  Marriage means I will have someone to support me through it all, and I get the amazing fulfillment of being able to be there for the person who I love with all my heart.

Those adult people were totally right when they told me that I'd "know" when I was in love (thanks, Mom!).  I know it all too well.  It's the greatest and most terrifying feeling ever.  To feel so much for someone and have that reciprocated is incredible, to say the least.  That incredible feeling is what I am blessed enough to experience for many years to come, thanks to committing to this relationship and now marriage!  I get to have this amazing person by my side who I'm crazy about and who is a wee bit crazy for me, too. I get to witness his accomplishments, happiness, ambitions, dreams--all the while, I'm inspired to be a better person and to pursue my own dreams because of him.

"But couldn't you experience all that without getting married?"

Sort of. Depends. If you believe you can, then yes.

For me and my life: I believe in the magic and spirituality of a sacramental promise. I believe in the adventure I'm about to embark in with the love of my life, and the sacredness of having Big Guns Upstairs bless our adventure, into Infinity and Beyond.

:)

Perspective

holistically: mindful and spiritual

A buddy of mine asked me how things are going for me today, and how wedding plans are going.  Not an unusual question, and I always sense that he genuinely wants to know.  I gave a pretty typical response about things in general ("things" have been stressful and a bit rollercoaster-esque).  My response to the wedding question was positive: I am super excited about marrying my best friend and partner.  To boot, plans have been going smoothly and the "big stuff" was planned a while ago.  Woo hoo!

Back to my friend.

When I asked him in return, he almost said something of a venting nature, stopped himself, and then went off on a tangent.  Before a cohesive sentence about the struggles of having a new baby in the household, work stuff, or whatever came out of his mouth, he said that he really could not complain.  Following that, as we walked with coffees in hand, he continued to explain that he really has it "pretty good," especially when you consider his situation versus what's going on on a global scale. I was transfixed, and kept listening as he described a YouTube video he saw about a soldier coming home to his daughter after a 1-year deployment.  He described how the daughter bursts into (happy) tears and alluded to how impactful that video was to him.

[I've seen a few of those videos (people tend to post that kind of "inspirational" content on Facebook or Reddit).  For a taste, check this one out.]

I commented on how that type of video would certainly hit home for him, especially as he and his wife just had another beautiful baby girl.  (Personally, I can't imagine the emotional turmoil families go through when their soldiers are deployed.)

I joked about how there's always room for improvement, but agreed that we really do need perspective in our lives.  We parted, and on went our day.  But it got me thinking as I felt uneasy about the topic of conversation and honestly, I wasn't very happy with myself .

Something surprised me and I dare say that I felt a wee bit of shame because of this: when he was saying how he really has "no right to complain" about anything, I could feel a rising sense of disagreement.   A voice was rebelling inside saying "of COURSE you have every right to complain about [xyz, or whatever we've discussed in the past]."  I shut that voice up and listened, instead, but I did so reluctantly.  I could feel a slight anger rising inside of me because I have been complaining about certain things that I'm struggling with in my life.  All of a sudden I felt like I was being slapped in the face with the notion of "it's really not that bad, kid! Get over it!"

Well.  Of course whatever I'm going through isn't that bad (this one's a slow burn).  On a base level, I'm a white, middle-class woman.  According to societal norms, I'm privileged in at least two regards.  On a spiritual, mental, and physical level, I feel amazingly privileged that I have a home; a family I love and who loves me; a partner who I adore and will marry soon (SQUEE!); wonderful friends; beautiful and loving furbabies; and a job! Not bad, if I do say so myself.

Enter my social work conscience....

But but but!  What about illness-inducing stress?  Debilitating depression?  Toxic relationships? Chronic anxiety that haunts your nights and your waking hours? What about financial pressures? Family issues? What about "normal" problems? 

If you are uncomfortable with something, hurting, experiencing mental health issues and/or physical health issues, it's all real.  It's all valid,  We completely, entirely, and absolutely (I'm not talking about Sith-like absolutes, people!) have a right to complain...

with perspective and gratitude.

If you do not release that which you are upset about, it will stew, fester, and grow and express its ugly self in nasty ways (more on that in another post to come).  In addition, if you're facing something chronic (a chronic condition, a family member is chronically and/or terminally ill, etc.), your well-being depends on being able to work through things and getting support.

However, at the same time, as my friend pointed out, we truly do need perspective. Our families are not plagued by poverty, war, natural disasters, disease, fascism, etc.  For example, I have the privilege of going to the grocery store and buying what I need and want.  That's huge.  Absolutely HUGE.  So very many people in Canada cannot even afford what they need--let alone what they want.

So what's the answer? First on the docket:

Gratitude. You can have your complaining-cake and eat it, too.  You can complain, vent, cry, scream, swear, punch a bag (please don't punch someone), go get counselling, talk to a friend, workout, write something, dance around, flail your arms, curl up in a ball---whatever you need to do to get it out! Whether or not your concerns seem valid to someone else, if they're real to you then they are real in general. <3

After that, be grateful.  It really could be so. much. worse. If you've ever experienced anxiety, then you don't need me to list all the things that could go wrong (anxiety-brain does that constantly for me and for you, if you experience it, too).  Instead, list all the things that have gone (and are going) right.  List (on paper or in your lovely cranium) what you feel good about; what makes you smile.  If you're lucky enough: what puts food on your table; what puts a roof over your head; that you have a roof and food; etc.   It may sound corny or dumb, but being grateful in the face of great adversity will help you achieve something incredibly profound:

Balance.

When you gain perspective, you have achieved a true balance between empathy and self-love, where you can understand (to an extent) what others go through, and accept your own truth and reality simultaneously.  It's not always easy to do because fear of what could go wrong or what is going wrong conflicts with the positive in life.  The negative tries to cloud your vision and blind you from the good.  While you can't fight that cloud completely, you can clear some of the fog with focusing on what you are thankful for.  There, you will find balance.

I felt angry today because some of the things I am facing are not being solved.  However, when I shifted my focus, I managed to feel incredible gratitude, love, hope, and lightness because I lead a fulfilling life.  From the basics of being able to live at all--to breathe, see, hear, smell, touch, and taste--to the richness of experiencing the true love of a soul mate, I am blessed.  And there's nothing wrong with that.  I am no less deserving of expressing my truth when I feel low, and no less deserving of having a wonderful life.  I just need to share that blessing and try to do what I can to brighten others' lives.  So vent, be thankful, and share.

Perspective.