Moving on, vs Moving with

holistically: emotional

I've got skills. Maybe not Liam Neeson-level skills, but I have some useful ones. I have skills and knowledge that assist me with helping others. This same skillset supposedly helps myself, too. If someone wants help with breathing techniques when they feel anxious? I know how to find helpful tools. If someone's feeling squirrelly after something huge and upsetting? I know how to normalize what they're feeling (because other people feel those huge, earth-shaking emotions, too in the face of trauma).

If you're a helping professional and/or work in the human services, do you ever have trouble reconciling your own knowledge with what you're feeling? As in, "my rational, professional knowledge base tells me that it is normal to feel [enter emotion here] based on this situation. Why did this hit me so hard, then? I knew it was coming?!" Oh yeah. Helping professional or not: we're all human. That's why. Doh!

Life has been quite the learning experience lately during my schooling while I'm recovering from grief. And other loss, too. Loss from long ago, loss of parts of my identity, and loss due to a couple life changes. I've had incredible supports, and I'm ok most of the time. Even when I'm shaken or raw, I'm still ok, just less so. Life has been a rollercoaster in learning how to live it in a new context (school) that's somewhat familiar (I've been in school before) but altogether different for me, as I'm a different person this time around.

Let me turn the lens to something else for a moment: there exists copious literature on how to process and deal with grief (and a plethora of other upsetting issues). Just do a Google search (though I warn you of the quality of some articles....................) Seek professional help when possible or at least professional advice to suss out the dross from the actually helpful.

However, there also exists an overarching pressure to "get over" or to "move on" from these upsetting things. Sure, you can ugly cry RIGHT AFTER you lose someone, but what about 2 months down the road? 1 year? 2 years? 10 years?

As a helping professional, I'd tell you: "ugly cry all you want. In fact, let's simply call it crying. It's normal and actually potentially healing to cry (hard or not) when you feel like crap."

As a human in North America, I would feel embarrassed, ashamed, and "crazy" for crying hard over a loss that happened more than a couple months ago. Why, though?

There's the crux of the issue: sure, you're ok to be stuck in pain right after a loss, but when the rest of the world around you has "moved on," it's assumed that you have, too. Most of us know, however, that that's bullshit.

I'd like to offer an alternative discourse: a discourse of moving with. With whom, might you ask? The person you've lost. Carry them with you. A friend of mine reminded me of something I knew in the dark, dusty corners of my brain but had forgotten: the importance of ritual and honouring a lost loved one. Do this.

If the loss was complicated, however, ignore what I just said and seek some professional help in aiding you with your maelstrom of feelings. That's a topic for another time. Grief is messy. Complicated grief is even messier. They're not on a hierarchy, really, but are more like apples and oranges in a fruit basket of pain. Grief (the apple) is difficult to crunch and digest, but there's a relatively expected/known method to eating and processing the fruit. Complicated grief (the orange) can explode, sting your lips if your skin is dried out, it doesn't open properly if the peel is on there too damn tightly, and it can surprise you with crunchy seeds when you least expect it. It takes forever to peel and eat an orange most of the time, doesn't it (if it doesn't for you, then think of another complicated fruit....pomegranate maybe?).

Again, that's a topic for another time.

If you've lost someone you deeply cared for, do your best to dissipate the pressures of getting over it when it seems everyone else has. I'd argue that "everyone else" likely hasn't completely, either, even if it seems like it. Honour your feelings. Cry your heart out when you need to. Bring your loved one along in your proverbial pocket to the good times and bad times ahead. If there are celebrations coming up that meant a lot for you and that loved one, do something to remember them. Light a candle, eat a cookie or candy they liked (thanks my friend for that suggestion), pray to them, write about them, go play a game outside (basketball? soccer? wall-ball?) or go for a walk. The options are endless but need to be meaningful to you.

Take your time. As familiar as an apple is, it can still surprise you. Has anyone ever found a worm in theirs before? I haven't. Happened with a peach once, though. That was unfortunate. I digress. Even if the apple is something you know about, you still need to take your time. It sucks to get apple chunks lodged in your throat, so chew it slowly, process it bit by bit--however long that takes. But, here's the parallel challenge: live your damn life.

It'll feel awkward and painful to be happy or content sometimes. That's normal. It's also imperative, then, to enjoy moments, occasions, rise up to challenges life hands you WITH THE OTHER PERSON. Bring them along. You can't leave them at home, or at the grave, or in the dark recesses of your mind where your skeletons hide with dust and cobwebs building up. They'll haunt you (they probably hate cobwebs as much as you do). Bring them into the daylight with you. Carry them in your heart. Acknowledge their presence and live your life.

Easier said than done, but in truth: we're all in this together. We don't leave a soldier behind, right? We've got to carry each other, in life or in death, because a person's impact does not extinguish in physical death. It simply changes. Move with that person in your life: don't move on.

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.

On Sensitivity and Emotions

holistically: mindful

Sensitivity--or in this case, the state of being deeply emotional both inwardly and through outward expression--is usually seen as weakness. The word "sensitivity" itself is usually interpreted as being "easily hurt" or offended--a trait considered very undesirable. Check out the Dictionary.com definition, for example.

"Don't be so sensitive!"

"Suck it up!"

"Get over it!"

Sound familiar? Well, it seems like our society is obsessed with always moving forward--with bulldozing emotional response for the sake of productivity, efficiency, and in all reality, for the sake of not making others uncomfortable with our own uncomfortable emotions.

As soon as we step into the realm of emotional experience and expression, we step into the stigma surrounding the idea that being "emotional" is weak--that it's bad. Well guess what: humans are emotional beings. We all experience emotion.

Yes, some emotions can feel negative and can have negative effects. Anger, sadness, grief come to mind. However, the negative effects that these emotions can have are contingent on how we express them--on how we use them. What the heck do I mean??

If you're angry about something, then you're angry about something. There is ZERO wrong with acknowledging that. Being sensitive in this case and showing your anger is NOT wrong. It boils down to the "how" of it all, though...

For argument's sake, let's look at an example, shall we? A co-worker shirks his/her responsibility to do a task that is theirs to do. You end up having to do it and to have it done.....yesterday. If you're angry about this, that's OK. What if you go and punch your co-worker? That's not ok. That's a negative effect (if I do say so myself). What if you go and yell at your co-worker? That's also not ok and another negative effect that will spawn other negative effects like a virus (or like this chain reaction, though not as cute). .

But what if you go for a walk? Breathe heavily in your office for a bit or in the bathroom? What if you write down everything you're feeling/thinking (even if the f-word comes up every second word)? What if you wait until you're somewhere you can punch a pillow or an actual boxing bag? Or, simply, what if you go somewhere safe and swear, scream, flail, yell "I'M SO ANGRY" for a few seconds until you're calm?

ALL OK!

That's right: that would all be ok. Know why? Because you're not storing that negative, angry energy and thoughts in your mind and body. Regardless of the actions that need to be done, how you perceive the action/task will be the deciding factor in your own health. To clarify: if you decide that you need to do that task that your co-worker tossed onto your shoulders, then do it. But that doesn't mean you have to like it, and it does not mean that you're not allowed to be angry. So be angry. But let that anger out in a way that does not hurt yourself or another person, and find a way to move on.

BONUS: if you can find a way to talk to your co-worker about this issue, even better. But this needs to happen after your jets are settled and you feel like a cool cucumber.

Example number two: your pet passes away and you aren't able to talk to a friend/spouse/family member yet about it, but you're really, really upset. You feel it building up and are almost not able to "keep it together" around other people. Please be kind to yourself and do something about that sadness. It's perfectly OK to cry for 5 minutes straight (or however long you need) in a safe location. Again, you could also scribble down what you're thinking/feeling, even if it doesn't make sense. Sadness and grief can be complicated. There are different ebbs and flows of how you experience grief. Allow yourself those feelings and thoughts that accompany grief, and do your best to communicate your needs with your loved ones and friends. If you're in healthy relationships with your loved ones, they'll understand the boundaries you need around grief (especially those people who have experienced loss themselves).

If you do not have anyone you trust to talk to, there are resources out there. Counsellors, phone lines, websites, oh my! For London, Ontario, this is good place to start.

What happens if you chronically (i.e. frequently and/or over an extended amount of time) do NOT express emotion--especially "negative" ones?

Lots. And it ain't good.

To list a few things that could be present (not all at once, though)... *drum roll*

Physically***:
-IBS (irritable bowel syndrome)
-high blood pressure
-other digestive upset
-hormonal imbalance
-trouble sleeping
-heart issues
-exhaustion
many others

Mentally***:
-brain fog
-scattered thought
-repetitive thoughts and/or memories
-"obsessing" about certain thoughts or memories
-anxious "what if" thinking

Emotionally and Mood***:

-Irritability
-withdrawing
-anxiety
-depression
-mood swings
-feelings of inadequacy
-feelings of unfairness and/or not being "heard"
-fight-or-flight
-aggression

***NOTE: this is NOT a diagnostic tool, nor should it be used in place of professional medical advice. Please see a doctor or other helping professional if you have questions or concerns about any of the above, or any symptoms/issues not listed here.***

Where do we go from here??? Is sensitivity good or bad??? It's good, right??

It's dangerous to think in terms of black and white: to consider sensitivity a "good" or "bad" thing.

So far, we've looked at why sensitivity is NOT a bad thing and why the only thing that's "bad" is keeping your emotions inside and letting them build. However, the absence of something bad is not necessarily equal to "good." It's not "good" to run away with all of your emotions, either.

Again, what do we do??

Get ready because I'm about to talk about the "b" word: BaLaNcE.

Be sensitive...but balance that shit with healthy expressions of your strong emotions. Let the anger out. Let the joy out. You're a human being, and human beings are built with a broad range and intensity of emotions. There's nothing wrong with feeling and showing your feelings. You're not a wuss or weak if you show emotion. That's some sexist bullshit right there, but we may address that on another day...

When in doubt, LET IT OUT.

Other reading: Emotion Suppression Effects on Mental and Physical Health
Emotion Suppression and Rebound Effect (Emotion Regulation)
Bottling Emotions and Associated Health Risks
Emotion Suppression and Effects on Relationships
Repression and its Effects
Suppression and Depression
Holistic View of Emotional Suppression and its Effects
Anger Suppression and Health

And for fun:
Buzzfeed: 26 Signs You're a Highly Sensitive Person
Huffington Post: 16 Habits of Highly Sensitive People