A few weeks ago, I participated in a Joy workshop. It was exactly what a full-time mom (or dad) needs heading into the holiday season.
The gathering started with a meet and greet cocktail hour on Friday evening and then, over two days, became a thoughtful consideration of:
- what zaps us of joy?
- are we choosing emotions other than joy?
- how to connect with our own joy
- rituals for creating and keeping joy
There was conversation, teachings, things to read, skill drills, time for journaling, laughing, crying; it was deep and messy and wonderful all at one time. Most importantly, it was a reminder of how and why we lose our joy and what it takes to find it again. Woven into the workshop was yoga, delicious food, and the chance to meet like-minded women who want to connect with themselves and each other.
What came up for me during the workshop was the profound loss I have felt the last eight years since my mother and grandmother passed away. My life changed instantly with their passings. My mother’s sudden death was particularly hard. She and I were not close, but we loved one another. When she died, I truly did not know what hit me. More importantly, I did not know how to grieve.
My grandmother’s passing was quite different. Her dying took place over many months. We were close and her slow exit from this life brought us closer. I am incredibly thankful for the time we had together and for the wisdom and guidance she shared with me in her life. With her last breath, she was teaching me something.
Two back-to-back deaths however, left me lost…and I didn’t even know it. What I realise now is that I was living in a haze colored by loss. I compare myself, pre and post their deaths, to being severely concussed. In my sorrow, I walked through life unable to feel, think, participate or do anything fully. That phrase “the lights are on but nobody is home” says it all. In a textural point of view, it felt like I was walking in a sticky web and could not get free.
I am a fighter, so to be sure, and I struggled against the darkness but it always pushed back hard.
Slowly, the stickiness of loss has lifted. Last year I noticed that I was finally coming back to myself. I was feeling joy again. In a moment of absolute “what the heck happened to me”, I saw a therapist who explained that it can take one to three years to fully process a loss. Two losses, one right after the other, may take twice as long or longer. And grief comes in waves…you’re fine and then you’re not…you’re fine again and then you’re not…again.
I have grieved for my beloved mother, grandmother and myself. I include myself because I have lost precious momentum and time: eight years to be exact. I forgive myself for not being able to see my way clearly.
Sadly, I acknowledge that I can’t get back those years. I can’t change what I did or didn’t do…did or did not say. I can only be aware of what happened, love myself, acknowledge my pain, and the hurt my emotional absence may have created in other people’s lives, and move forward.
This past year, my intention has been “Love”…love of self, love of others, love of work, love of learning and travel and so much more. Love and time have brought me back to myself…brought me back to today. And the Joy workshop I did last weekend helped me to look at what has been holding me back from having as much joy as I had before my mother and grandmother died. That information I’ll save for another blog post!
When I woke up this morning the phrase “Today, I Begin Anew” popped into my mind. I wrote it down on a sticky note and put it on my mirror as a reminder of the new awakening I feel for my beautiful, complicated, messy life.
This is my journey. It is perfectly imperfect.
Maybe God, the Universe, the Powers that Be are molding me for something I do not yet know. Loss is part of being “molded”. And, with grace, I am open to the possibilities of the journey. So, today, I begin anew. Perhaps this post will help you in any loss you are experiencing. Today, please know that you are not alone.
~XoK
Sorry to learn your losses and i’m glad that you are now seeing your way. Keep strong :I
Thank you. You are very kind to reach out. Be well.
Kim,
C.S. Lewis called the death of a loved one an amputation. Surely we have to be as gentle on ourselves as we would a dear friend.I have known great loss and still have days where it knocks me down like a wave. And then the sun shines again and I see it is all part of this life experience, the happy and sad. The trick is allowing these two rules to live together. Peace and joy to you as you Begin Anew…Slán ague beannachtaí…Rose
Dear Rose. You are so good to take the time to drop me a note. Thank you for your generous spirit. I think you are so spot on. God bless you. XoK
Dear Kim,
sitting on my sofa I just read your post and now, half an our later, I am still sitting here thinking about if I should leave a comment or not. But reading your last sentence I thought I should. Just to tell you, that you are not alone, too. And to tell you I am sorry that you were so lost for the last eight years and that I didn’t ask you more often how you are doing. We should all take more care of each other.
I know this feeling of numbness you wrote about. A workmate shot himself two weeks ago and I am still walking around asking myself WHY? Not beeing able to go to the funeral or to grieve because right now I am still so angry. Even worse I thought I am done processing the lost of an dear friend who got hit by a car when she was on duty six years ago. Such a long time ago. Long enough I thought. I was fine and now I feel like I have to start all over again. But I was fine bevore so I know I will be fine again. And I am so happy that you got up this morning feeling so good and starting new. You deserve it and I am sure your mom and grandma are proud of you. I liked them both so much and I am sorry that you lost them so early in your life.
So as you used to say… go on girl… be brave and go for the moon :-). My lunchtime is over. I have to go on. Maybe I will stop by the book store and get some sticky notes for my mirror. I saw some pink smiley ones the other day :-).
Have a great week.
Lots of Love. XO Momo 😉
Oh Momo! I am so sorry for your loss. I’m glad you wrote back. It’s good to let out some of the sorrow sitting in your heart. You too are not alone dear friend. I am always here for you. ❤️ Please, love, let the anger you feel wash over you until it passes. Don’t hold on to it…just let it be and know that it is part and parcel of healing. It may take years to not feel so raw from loss. Time really does heal the heart. So be patient and be kind with yourself. Talk, write, fill your life with love (I know you are blessed with great love!) And buy those sticky notes!! Leave lots of messages for yourself and the special people in your life. It’s funny…but I did just that and I see my notes in my daughter’s bedrooms. They kept them all. Sometimes, when our hearts are hurting, we only have the energy to a quick note…which is just fine because they matter. Xo my sweet Momo!!
Dear Kim,
What a beautiful post…so wonderfully honest, vulnerable and true! Also, what a great day to post about beginning anew; the first day of advent. xo
Dawn…❤️❤️❤️
When my dad died, and we were not close, I didn’t shed a tear. I went through the motions of what needed to be done, felt sadness, got through it. Fast forward many months later, and some 70s Italian song came on tv, not remotely connected to him but linked to a place and time, and I was overcome by a torrent of tears. You are right, it takes a lot of time. May this joyous feeling of renewal lead you to an interesting place.
Hi. Claudia! As always, I so enjoy our exchanges. Though we are so many many miles apart, and have never met, I feel a kinship with you and always appreciate your thoughtful, heartfelt, comments. Be well. And joy and peace to you too. XoK
Many prayers and support for your significant family losses. Their spirit lives within you.
Thank you.