coping strategies – Page 25 – thelifeididntchoose

Repost: Fault Lines: Bereaved Parents and Social Anxiety

Even at four years into this journey, I can surprise myself when, for no apparent reason, grief explodes from someplace deep within me.

I’m keyed into triggers-sights, smells, places and people that remind me of Dominic.

But sometimes I can’t figure out what causes the tears to fall or my stomach to be tied in knots.

It seems to happen most often when I’m in social situations. I feel surrounded, trapped and anxiety mounts.

I’m no geologist, but from what I understand, earthquakes are nearly always “about to happen”. Fault lines guarantee it. Pressure is building underneath the surface of the earth and when it reaches a level that can no longer be contained, it spews.

Can I just let you in on a secret?

Bereaved parents are full of fault lines.

Many of us are nearly ready to blow almost every single minute, yet hold it in and hold it together. If you could put a meter to our temple and measure how close we are to a come apart, you would be amazed that it happens so rarely!

Read the rest here: Fault Lines: Bereaved Parents and Social Anxiety

Taking Care: Ten Ways to Survive Hard Grief Days

My hardest grief season begins in November and runs to the end of May. Thanksgiving through Dominic’s birthday on (or near) Memorial Day are days full of triggers, memories and stark reminders that one of us is missing.

If I could fall asleep November first and wake up in June I’d do it.

But I can’t so I have to employ all the tricks I’ve learned in the nearly four years since Dominic ran ahead to heaven to survive those particularly challenging months.

Here are ten ways I survive hard grief days:

1. I make lists of things to do. I’ve found that if I don’t make a plan for each day it’s far too easy to just lie around and feel sorry for myself. I use index cards but whatever works for you is fine. I list household chores, phone calls to make or notes to write, exercise, errands or whatever. And then I consider them non-negotiable. These are my marching orders and after my morning coffee I start down the list.

2. I do something creative. I crochet or arrange flowers or sew a little. Taking just five or ten minutes to make something beautiful changes my perspective. I have a can opener that takes the lids off without sharp edges and I make magnets for friends and family members or just to have on hand for a little gift.

3. I take a walk. I am thankful I can go outside on my own property and enjoy fresh air and country sunshine. I know not everyone has that option. But even a walk inside your office building or up and down a couple flights of stairs gets the blood pumping and releases endorphins. If I can’t walk, then I at least change my physical position-from sitting to standing, from standing to moving. Body position impacts my emotions.

4. I find something to make me smile. There is scientific evidence to back our common sense experience that smiling lightens our mood and helps our hearts. I read jokes or check out some of my Facebook friends that tend to post funny memes or stories. Sometimes I just “practice” a smile and even that can send feel-good hormones surging through my system.

paco face (2) — “Don’t try to win over the haters, you are not a jackass whisperer.” ~ Brene Brow

5. I call or text a friend. Sometimes I just need to know that someone else is aware of my hard day. No one can undo my grief but when I feel there is a witness, it lightens the load somehow.6. I stay off Facebook and other social media platforms. I love that I’m able to keep in touch with friends and family via social media. But it can be full of drama and negativity as well. So if I’m having a tough day, I remove the potential for it to be made harder due to random comments, posts or photographs.

7. I pet my cats. I have always been an animal lover. But I truly do not know how I could have survived these past four years without the companionship of my cats and other furry friends. Study after study confirms that being in the presence of pets lowers blood pressure and calms nerves.

8. I go with my feelings. There is no rule book that says I have to be tough and hide my tears. If I’m having a hard grief day it is perfectly acceptable to let the sorrow wash over me and let the tears fall. Sometimes fighting the feelings only prolongs my pain. Often a good cry is cleansing and I am much better afterwards.

9. I journal. There are things I need to “say” that are better kept between me, God and my notebook. I have kept a journal for nearly three decades. Many times just writing out my feelings, my fears, my thoughts and my frustrations is enough to take the sting out. There’s something about not keeping it all bottled up inside-even if no other soul reads it-that acts as a catharsis.

10. I copy encouraging quotes or Scripture and hang them prominent places throughout the house. I have notes tacked to my bed post, on my bathroom mirror, taped to the cabinet next to my stove, stuck on the fridge, slid into my wallet in my purse-absolutely everywhere. Because when my heart is hanging on by a thread, the smallest bit of encouragement is often enough to help me hold onto hope.

None of these things undo my grief in the most basic sense.

Dominic is gone, gone, gone and I will not see him or hear his voice until we are reunited in the Presence of our Savior.

But they DO help.

One of the most devastating aspects of child loss is the overwhelming sense that NOTHING makes sense anymore and that I have absolutely NO control.

Choosing helpful habits and actions gives me a way to regain dominion over a tiny corner of my world.

And that little bit of action strengthens my spirit and helps my heart hold on.

Funny Farm: Crazy Critters Keep Me Sane

Most of you know that I live and work on a small farm in rural Alabama.

And if you’ve read just a handful of posts, you’ve probably seen some photos of the silly critters that make up my menagerie.

I’ve written before about how vital animal therapy has been and continues to be to my own grief journey but today I just wanted to share some of the fun, funny and ridiculous sights that greet me nearly every day.

They keep me smiling (sometimes in spite of myself) and they keep me going (because I know they depend on me for food, shelter and safety).

Truly, I am grateful to God for the love He instilled in my heart towards every living thing. I’m grateful for a husband who indulges my crazy impulse to save, house and feed anything that wanders up our lane or is thrust upon us by others who just can’t care for a pet anymore. I’m grateful for children who have built fences, tossed hay bales and put up with their mama’s eccentricities.

So here you go, I hope these make you smile too.

These two are Paco and Bob. Paco came to us via a friend of a friend who thought that having a donkey was a great idea-until he got bigger. We brought him home in a makeshift trailer and he’s been a ray of sunshine ever since. He greets every visitor with a loud “Hee Haw” and loves, loves, loves to be petted. I’ve had the opportunity to point out the cross on his back many times to the children that have come out to our farm for science classes or tours.

I never get tired of seeing his happy face.

I’m rarely alone, usually lead or followed by someone or something. Chores are better when you’ve got company.

Here’s Sugar. She’s one of the first goats born on our place and an old friend. Just last winter I would have sworn she wouldn’t live to see another summer but she did. It took a lot of hard work, loving ministration and tender care, but here she is. Spoiled rotten. But I absolutely love watching her run out each morning to graze.

Shes a daily reminder of how our Shepherd, Jesus, binds up our wounds and cares for us.

Natural and effective lawn mowers-most days I let my horses and goats out to browse and get whatever goodness they can find. I love walking out among them.

I often think, “What a privilege to have this freedom and space!”

This is Barnabas-named after the Barnabas (son of encouragement) in the Bible because one year we had a number of goat kids rejected by their mamas and he was willing to lay next to them to keep them warm on cold nights.

He’s a good companion, always comes when I call and walks with me in high grass when I’m afraid of what might be lurking in the shadows.

Some days I encounter a non-resident who takes advantage of the goodies in the feed shed!

And then there are my inside pals. Always cozying up to me (and getting in the way!)

I tell everyone that these crazy critters keep me sane.

They make me smile. Most days, they make me laugh out loud!

For that I am very, very thankful.

How Do I DO This? The Question Every Bereaved Parent Longs to Ask

After the flurry of activity surrounding the funeral, our house was so, so quiet.

Even with the five of us still here, it felt empty.

Because Dominic was gone, gone, gone and he was not coming back.

And the silence pounded into my head and heart until it became a scream:

How do I DO this?

How do I keep on living when all I want to do is give up and give in? How does a body carry this pain-is it even possible?

When I dared look past the moment to the days, weeks, months, DECADES that stretched before me, I was undone.

Even now, if I look too far ahead, my heart pounds and my head explodes.

So I don’t.

Honestly, THAT’S how you do it.

One day at a time.

One moment at a time.

One breath at a time.

I keep reminding my heart that the only thing I have to do is right now. I hold my attention to this very moment and refuse to let my thoughts wander.

Sure I mark dates on the calendar and am even able to plan ahead a bit now. But it was nearly three years until I could do that without shaking as I wrote them down.

So dear mama, dear daddy, give yourself permission not to try to figure out what a parent’s heart was never meant to calculate-how to live without the earthly companionship of the child you love-and just breathe.

One day at a time.

One moment at a time.

One breath at a time.

Repost: Dispelling Marriage Myths Surrounding Child loss

I wrote this last year for our anniversary. It is still true.

We are battered and torn but hanging in and hanging on to one another.

Don’t believe the myth that a marriage cannot survive child loss. It can and many do.

Today my husband and I celebrate 33 years of marriage.

Our thirtieth anniversary wars a mere two months after we buried our son.

Here’s the last “before” anniversary photo (2013)-unfeigned smiles, genuine joy, excitement to have made it that far…

Read the rest here: Dispelling Marriage Myths Surrounding Child Loss

Sun & Shade: Picking My Path

I walk the half-mile stretch down and back on my driveway at least four or five times a day.

In the winter I follow the sun.

In the summer I follow the shade.

The path I choose to take either adds to or subtracts from my ability to make the trek in relative comfort.

It would be foolish for me to not take advantage of available provisions. It would be silly for me to shiver or sweat more just because I was too lazy to adjust my trajectory.

I can’t change the absolute temperature outside but I can influence how I experience it.

I’ve found that the same practical wisdom applies to my grief journey: I can make things easier or harder on my heart by making even small changes in how I face a day or situation.

I can’t change the fact that my son is dead. But I can influence how I experience it.

On days when I am struggling with sorrow, I seek out some “sunshine”-both actual sunshine by getting outdoors and figurative sunshine by feeding my soul with positive images, thoughts and the truth of Scripture.

I minimize my interaction with “negative Nellies” and sites or shows or books or places that send me further down the path of despair.

I share my struggle with safe people who will listen and not try to correct me or force me into pretending that sorrow is not what I feel.

I go to bed early, knowing that each sunrise brings new mercies from our Heavenly Father and that one bad day does not have to define a week.

On days when I’m overwhelmed with the “heat” of commitment or too many people or too much activity, I seek out some “shade”-I look for a spot in my schedule where I can rest a bit and catch my breath.

I reassess and find things I can give up. I find other ways to meet obligations that give me more space and require less frantic scrambling.

I make myself sit down and slow down, even if it is for just fifteen minutes.

I’m honest with my family and friends, because if I’m not I will end up being ugly and hurting someone’s feelings.

So, so many things about grief are outside my control. I cannot anticipate every random trigger that might land me in a puddle of tears.

Life goes on and continues to demand my participation.

I want to be fully present for my loved ones. I want to show up and make merry for all the special occasions.

So I try to use wisdom in how I approach each day, assessing my grief “temperature” so that I can do what’s necessary to ensure I’m emotionally healthy enough to do what I really want to do.

Shade in summer.

Sun in winter.

Repost: Emotional Bankruptcy-I Can’t Spend the Same Energy Twice

I wasn’t born with an “I don’t give a hoot” gene.

When I commit to a person, a project or a problem, I’m all in-no holding back.

That’s why this side of Dominic’s leaving I’ve been very cautious about making commitments. But in the past year I’ve begun branching out and joining in again.

In many ways it has been a positive experience.

In other ways, not so much.

Read the rest here: Emotional Bankruptcy: I Can’t Spend the Same Energy Twice

Repost: Be Free to Celebrate [Or Not!]

Often bereaved parents dread the major holiday season that starts in November and lasts through January. We brace ourselves for THOSE days because they loom large on the calendar and give fair warning.

But the year is chock full of minor holidays and other celebrations that require just as much emotional energy as the “big” ones.

If I’m not careful, they will slip up on me and drain me dry.

So here’s how I try to approach them.

It helps my heart.

Maybe it will help yours too. ❤

One of the most challenging things that faced me immediately after Dominic’s funeral was that we had two college graduations, Mother’s Day, Father’s Day, his birthday, a wedding and my own thirtieth wedding anniversary within two months.

Thankfully we had some amazing friends and family that stepped up and filled in the gaps.

Read the rest here: Be Free to Celebrate [or Not!]

When Life Gives You Lemons (Well, You Know the Rest)

You’d think that after having the most unexpected and awful and out-of-control thing happen to me, I’d stop looking for patterns or certainty in life.

But, being human, and a former control freak, I just can’t quit.

So I still use a calendar, still try to make plans, still depend on others to keep their word and adhere to (a semblance) of schedule.

Silly me!

Remember this post: Salt In The Wound?

Well I flew to California-neither a simple nor cheap undertaking-to handle this business. In a one hour meeting, one party to the process declared a “personal conflict” and the whole thing is now moved to the end of July.

Wow! Yep. Couldn’t send an email a couple days ahead and save me a trip, could you?

So here I am, laughing because If You Don’t Laugh, You’ll Cry

And working to make lemonade out of these lemons life keeps tossing my way.

Here’s my list so far:

The weather was great. It amounted to an extended spring season for me since it’s already in the ~~high 80’s and~~ low 90’s in Alabama.
Sidewalks everywhere. I could walk to the store, the library, the park. I managed a walk every day for a week.
Time to write. There is still a mile-long “to do” list around the farm but since I wasn’t there, I could ignore it and spend more time writing. Those walks help clear my mind and focus my thoughts.
A couple quick day trips to fun spots with my husband. One of the things we’ve tried to do since he’s been out here is use my visits to explore California. This time we went to San Juan Capistrano and learned more about the mission system that was instrumental in settling the state. We also visited the Getty Museum. Both places had beautiful buildings and gardens, as you can see in the pictures at the end of this post.
A renewed sense of gratitude for southern culture and graciousness. I’m sorry if I offend any left coast readers but as a group (NOT individuals) these are just not my people. I smile, nod and speak when I meet someone on the street or in a grocery store aisle. With few exceptions, people out there just don’t do that. I feel torn between being (what I consider) rude and respecting their customs. I missed my redneck brothers and sisters 🙂
Some much needed rest and sleep. Once my body adjusted to the time change, I slept longer out there than I have most nights for years. Maybe it’s the walking or cooler temps or just the lack of morning cues from home, but I was able to get a good 7 or 8 hours every night.

I’ve always tended to be a “glass half full” kind of gal, but since Dom left us, it can be harder to find the bright side of hard situations.

I’m working at it.

Making this list will help my heart refuse despair when I have to board that plane again in just two short months.

(I hope ❤ )

San Juan Capistrano Bell Tower

Getty Museum

Season of Grief: How a Heart Marks the Days

It’s different for every heart.

But each of us who know child loss have a season of grief.

It’s so much more than “just” the day our child left for Heaven.

For me, it starts in November and runs through the end of May-fully half of

every.

single.

year.

November 2013 was my 50th birthday and the kids arranged a surprise party for me at Dominic’s apartment. My husband was home from California and we were all together for my birthday, Thanksgiving and the Iron Bowl. So many memories, so many moments.

As the leaves begin to turn in Alabama, my heart begins the countdown.

Then that Christmas-it would be the last one where the table was full and all I have are a few fuzzy photos because we anticipated a spring season of graduations and a wedding. Plenty of time for better pictures when we were dressed for the camera.

As we hang the lights and the nights get longer, my heart gets sadder.

January was back to routine. Everyone busy. James Michael and Julian would be graduating soon. We had normal back and forth texts and messages, never knowing how precious these few recorded words would become.

As we move toward warmer weather, my heart grows cold.

February 14, 2014 was Julian’s birthday and for a couple of hours all the kids were home. We sat outside on an old trailer laughing and cutting up. Someone suggested a photo. Everyone demurred because we were in ragged work clothes and thought it was a waste of time. Oh, how I wish I had that picture now!

But there’s no going back.

I saw Dominic in March a few times. Since he lived just 25 miles away I would meet him to go to Sam’s Club and stock up on basic food stuffs. He came out to our place to work on a friend’s car. He and Julian met up and made a road trip for Spring Break.

It was the last time I’d see him alive. My heart hates turning the calendar to April.

April. What can I say about this awful, awful month?

I will never be able to recapture any sense of hopeful anticipation as flowers bloom and leaves bud. I don’t care when the last frost might be because try as I might, I can’t plant a garden. When the first really beautiful day arrives, whether or not it corresponds to Dom’s death date, it only makes me fearful other young men will take their bikes out for a ride after a long, cold winter. I wonder how many mamas wake to a knock or phone call.

The smell of cut grass reminds me of the people that came to help us clean up before the funeral. The sun streaming in the living room window conjures the mornings I woke and dared it to shine in the face of such tragedy.

My heart barely holds on.

And then May. Mother’s Day-what kind of mother lets her son die? Even though logic tells me otherwise, my heart still accuses.

Graduations, weddings–reminders that Dominic never got to finish his law degree, will never marry and that every single molecule of him is gone, gone, gone-no children, no likeness ever looking back at me again in this life.

Finally, there’s his birthday-the one he missed by only a few short weeks. Forever 23. Never any older. May 28th comes and goes. Sometimes it’s on Memorial Day like the year he was born but often not. So I gird my loins to face the date AND the day.

My heart hurts but breathes a sigh of relief.

This season is over. But it will come again.

So I try, try, try to cram as much into the intervening months as possible.

The calendar is relentless.

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