Hope After Destruction

Hope. You don’t realize the power of hope until you’ve lost hope after a trauma or tragedy. As I was hiking in Calabasas, hope is what kept coming to mind. The regrowth that has sprung up in the aftermath of the Woosley fires was enlightening. Seeing the green grasses, flowering plants and blooming flowers in the midst of burnt destruction brought a sense of hopefulness. 

After experiencing such deep, searing pain and feeling that I might never recover, this visual of regrowth from destruction rekindled my hope. 

I don’t believe that anyone can return to be the person they were before experiencing a traumatic event. We are forever changed by our experiences, particularly painful and intense traumatic events.

But I do believe that with some hard work, the right supports by your side, and some self compassion and acceptance, there can be positive growth from our pasts. 

In no way do I feel that you can ever get over or move on past your trauma. When I hear people say “aren’t you over this yet” or “haven’t you moved on past this” it infuriates me. 

My painful experiences will always be with me. They are a part of who I am and impact the way I think, feel, and experience the world. 

They are that burnt tree remaining standing in the midst of the green grass, flowering bushes, and blooming flowers. 

With support, I have learned to acknowledge, accept and use my painful experiences to develop hope in my life and help others bring hope back into their lives. 

The Symbol of Grief

“A butterfly is a symbol of life after death because of it’s stages of transformation from egg to adult. The stages or cycles mimic human birth, personal growth and spiritual rebirth.” by Renee Greene

When you lose someone who was your world, not just part of your world, but your world, it can feel like life can’t go on. It’s almost as though you’ve been frozen in time. You want the pain to stop but you don’t want one moment to go on without them.

No matter how much you want time to stop or even more, go back, to spend one more day, one more hour, one more minute, it only keeps going

You can’t stop your grief. You can’t and won’t ever get over your grief. Grief will be with you for the rest of your life. Our grief exists because we deeply love. That love will never end.

As you begin to accept your grief, just allowing for the sorrow and pain to be there, you begin to allow for yourself to transform. You may start to realize that you are a different person. Losing someone you love has forever changed you. This isn’t to say it’s a negative or a positive change. You are simply different.

As time progresses and your pain softens, many who are able to walk through their grief begin to recognize these changes inside themselves.

One of the things I struggled with in the early months of my grief is accepting the reality of my loss. With time, effort, and supportive people around me, I was able to slowly have moments of accepting my new reality. These brief moments grew into minutes, hours, and eventually days. Don’t get me wrong, I still have times when I fight against my reality. I want to pretend for just a few moments that my heart has not been ripped in two.

When I see a butterfly, it reminds me of how I have transformed. The death of my loved one crushed me to the core. And as I look back, I see how far I have come. I recognize the transformation I have undergone. I never believed that anything good could come from my loss. But in my loved one’s honor, I now am able to accept the good that has come from life after death.

It takes a great deal of effort, work, and support to transform. If you need support on your journey in grief, I am here when you are ready.

Grief Bursts

What is it about today that tears start streaming down my face? There is no noticeable difference between today and yesterday or the day before that. 

I thought I was doing better. More able to keep myself together without as much effort. More able to find times of joy in everyday life.

But today is different. 

My heart is heavy and aches for my loved one.

My thoughts race to try and find an explanation but grasp at insignificant possible causes for my sudden overwhelming feelings of grief. Why do I have the intense need to explain this? I have lost someone so incredibly dear to me and my heart has been ripped in two. Of course my grief should come pouring out. 

With this acknowledgment, I allow for the tears to come. No holding back. I allow for myself to mourn. 

This is what I need today. To give myself permission to mourn my loss. To give myself permission to feel the pain in my heart. To give myself permission to wish for a different outcome. To give myself permission to grieve. 

I will not hide it. I will not stuff it down. 

As days, weeks, months and years pass, I realize I don’t mourn as often as before.

Gary Roe wrote “We grieve because we love.”

My grief will never go away because my love will never end. 

Compassion

For most of us, we are trained from a young age to push down and hide negative emotions. To think of others first and not upset them by sharing our difficult experiences. But inside we strive for connection with others. To be able to share our stories with others. We also desire that the world will respond to us compassionately.

In order to gain compassion from the world, we must first give compassion to ourselves. To recognize when we are beating ourselves up about a choice we made, or a thought that came up, or a mistake that happened, or a reaction we had. When we are gentle and kind to ourselves it becomes easier to be gentle and kind to those around us.

When we begin to feel compassion for the suffering of those around us, we are less judgmental on their responses to our pain. We are more open to seeing alternative reasons for someone who quickly says I’m sorry and walks away.

How do you know that person didn’t lose their father the week before? How do you know that person didn’t get written up at work that morning? How do you know that person didn’t have an argument with their partner the evening before? How do you know that person is not suffering as you are?

We begin to appreciate when someone takes the extra moment to listen to our story. To connect with us.

As my compassion expanded, why did talking about my losses begin to feel easier? When I was able to give compassion to myself and others, I was able to be open to various forms of compassion. I was able to recognize when someone was giving me as much of a compassionate response as they could in that moment. This allowed me to share more frequently. I felt a sense of relief that I didn’t have to experience my suffering all alone all the time.

Then I noticed that when I would get a response that I felt lacked compassion, my first response was no longer a flood gate of anger. Although I was lost on how to respond. It wasn’t until I met a brave father who had lost his son that inspired me. He told me, it was his challenge to help educate people, including strangers, ideas for responding in positive ways in hopes that the next person that the person came across would get a more positive, supportive message. He would offer examples of positive words or phrases of comfort.

“It’s always okay to just say I’m sorry.” “It feels good when someone asks what my child’s name was.” “That must have been very difficult to go through.” “I can imagine what a difficult experience that must be like.”

I found myself taking his lead, and began educating people on a better, more compassionate, way to respond. Giving them these types of examples to say in the future, in hopes that they could be a little gentler or kinder to the next person. This made me feel good, like I was helping others.

It’s not hard to respond compassionately to others, but to do so we often need to take a minute to really hear the information shared and feel the pain of the other person. Many people can get caught up in not wanting to say the wrong thing, being overwhelmed by the others pain, or feeling a need to answer quickly to escape the unfamiliar conversation. It can be frustrating to be the one to re-educate people and encourage compassion when you are the one suffering. However, the more you are able to do this, the more compassion you will find both within yourself and giving to those around you. And the more you share, the less alone you may feel in your pain.  

The Dreaded Questions

Are you trying for children? How many children do you want? How many children do you have? When will you be having children?

The intention of these questions are often to invite conversation but such innocent questions can cause so much pain and heartache for those who have struggled with getting pregnant, the loss of a pregnancy, not being able to carry a child, and/or the death of a child, the flood of emotion that comes is overwhelming.

As we stare blankly back at the person, we may notice our chest clench, heat spreading through our body, or our heart racing. A flood of thoughts may pass through our minds. Do we count those precious pregnancies we lost? Do we share how many rounds of fertility treatments our body, mind and spirit have endured? Do we share our child’s name who has not survived? Do we include all our children we dream and hope for having every day? Instead of sharing the truth, why is it more often that we curl into ourselves with our painful experiences and hide them from the world. 

If your suffering and pain is new, you may need more time before being able to slowly open up to others. Be kind to yourself and give yourself the time and space to begin your process of healing. Towards the beginning of my painful journey, I felt that if I opened up, even just a little, all of my emotions would come pouring out. I was like an egg, so fragile and delicate. At times, if I cracked, just a little, I was able to hold myself together. But if I cracked too much the emotions would become overwhelming and spill everywhere. And so I protected myself, and when this question arose, I hid the truth from the outside world. I needed time and patience with myself to be able to allow the shell of my egg to soften and be able to hold together a bit more. As time went on, the questions never ceased but I noticed my desire to begin opening up my shell and sharing about my pain.

I wanted my pain to be acknowledged. I needed my pain to be heard. I knew my losses were real, but I needed others to acknowledge that they were real. To not be made to feel bad that I was suffering. Suffering is hard enough to experience day in and day out, I no longer wanted to feel the pressure to hide it. Slowly I began playing around with how I would answer the questions. For me, it felt safer to test out responses on strangers as I could simply walk away and never see them again.

Surprisingly the roles began to reverse as I began to share. I watched as others froze, not having a clue what to say. When they would say things that I felt were insensitive, I would become flooded with anger. What is wrong with them? Don’t they know I’m human? How could they be so cold? But every so often there would be someone who would simply say, “I’m so sorry” or ask more about my experience.

My heart hurt but with their acknowledgment of my suffering I felt better. I began having more compassion for the strangers, recognizing that before my losses, I don’t know if I would have said the right thing. As this compassion grew, so did my bravery in opening up to friends and family about my difficult journey. Slowly but surely I began speaking. Sharing little pieces of my experiences, what I felt comfortable with. And I found when someone responded in a positive way, I would share, with them, a little more.

I began coming out of my shell, allowing myself to be real with others. I began building the support system that I wanted and desperately needed.

A Shared Experience

As we walk through life, why do we suddenly feel so alone when we experience difficulties and pain. There is often a sense of separateness from those around us, even if those people previously have been supportive. It’s almost as though there is a protection or a wall that goes up to try and prevent further hurt.

We suddenly get the feeling that we are the only ones in the world experiencing such suffering. Our emotions overwhelm us, which impacts our thoughts and our behaviors. Our minds cannot process all of these intense feelings that may overwhelm us all at once or change from one to another in mere seconds. In efforts to process these emotions our mind starts racing, flooding us with thoughts that are both realistic and unrealistic. Leaving us stranded in our own minds and bodies with a feeling of separateness. That no one else can possibly feel the way I do. That I am alone trying to hold myself together in a world that continues to go on around me like everything is as it should be. It’s not as it should be. My suffering and pain is real. It’s here and despite how much I don’t want it, that pain is not going anywhere.  

In this moment, I challenge you to begin to think about the suffering of others. Whether it be a friend or family member, a co-worker, a stranger on the street, or a person from the news. Beginning to recognize that we as humans are experiencing a world together that is impacted moment by moment with difficulties.

It’s a challenge isn’t it. To hold onto your own pain while thinking about the pain of others. This is in no way to negate your suffering. The pain and suffering you are experiencing is real.

This challenge is meant to bring an awareness that you are not alone. When we begin to realize we are not alone, we can begin to open ourselves up to supports around us. This openness may begin by connecting with others who are experiencing the same trauma, difficulties, or pain as you. Being able to share your feelings and thoughts with someone who has experienced something similar can often provide a sense of relief, a breaking down of that false sense of protection.

You do not have to suffer alone. As this realization takes effect, you may see over time that you are better able to share with others whom have not experienced your same pain. That others can be there for you despite their lack of complete understanding for what you have been through. It is your choice to reach out and share a bit of yourself and your experience in hopes of getting some relief. You need not sit alone with your pain.