mental health – Page 17 – thelifeididntchoose

Feel and Deal to Heal

If I touch a hot stove my hand jerks away almost before my mind registers the searing pain. It’s reflex. Our bodies were designed to react to and protect us from things that cause pain.

Run away. Don’t go back. Set up barricades and warning signs so that others can be protected.

Most of the time, this reaction serves us well.

But sometimes those reflexes keep us from healing.

Anyone who’s had major surgery knows that when the nurses come in the next morning saying, “We’re going to get you out of bed today!”, the last thing you want to do is swing your legs over and stand up. It HURTS!

We want to avoid what hurts, not embrace it.

So it’s no surprise that when we suffer deep emotional wounds, our first response is to try to run away or bury them or ignore them. The last thing we want to do is face them.

But if I am to heal, I have to face them. I have to take hold of each place where the dagger of grief and sorrow and regret and anger has pierced my heart and examine it closely. I have to decide what to do with it, how to integrate it into my life after loss.

Grief is work! That is one of the reasons grievers need solitude as well as companionship on this journey. And that is why grief can’t be hurried along. It takes a great deal of time to do the work grief requires.

If instead of facing our pain, we try to run away or distract ourselves or numb ourselves with alcohol, food or drugs, we only prolong the process. Grief will not be ignored forever.

We must FEEL what we need to feel.

Then we must DEAL with those feelings-it might mean seeking a professional counselor or a trusted friend. Online or in-person grief support groups are a wonderful resource. Journaling can help too. But we have got to acknowledge and work through these feelings.

And then we can begin to HEAL Hearts that have embraced and made some sense of grief can begin to beat again. They can begin to love again and feel joy again. They can learn to carry both sorrow and happiness-to remember and honor the missing child while also honoring and loving family and friends still here.

It’s not a “once and done” exercise.

I have repeated these steps over and over in the soon to be [nine] years since Dominic ran ahead to heaven. New feelings show up at the door of my heart and I have to choose to feel them, to search for what they mean and why they are here and then allow them to be woven into the fabric of who I am NOW-this side of child loss.

It takes courage and stamina and determination, but it is the only way forward.

Anxiety is Awful!

I’ve written before about anxiety and child loss here. No matter the cause of death, the FACT of a child’s death seems to create the perfect conditions for a parent’s body and mind to experience anxiety, dis-ease, fear and often a sense of impending doom.

My world was rocked to its foundation the moment I heard the words, “He was killed in a motorcycle accident”.

The worst thing I could imagine had come true.

There was no protection from it happening again, no guarantee that THIS unbearable pain would be the ONLY unbearable pain I would have to carry.

I think my body chemistry was instantly transformed that morning to include rapid heartbeats, shallow breathing and a horrible creepy tension that climbs my spine and clenches its claws tightly at the base of my skull.

Before Dominic left us for Heaven I was not an anxious person.

No matter what happened, I generally took it in stride, looked for a solution and moved forward armed with an arsenal of choices to meet the problem head on.

Now, I can be pushed into a corner by an ordinary phone call that lasts too long. I can feel trapped if a price fails to ring up properly and I have to wait to have it corrected by a head cashier. I can become positively frantic when I reach in my purse and can’t find my keys even though I know for a fact I put them there and if I look a bit harder I’ll find them.

Traffic makes my heart go pitter-patter. The doorbell sends me flying to make sure it’s the UPS man and not another police officer to tell me heartbreaking news.

If I try to multi-task (which I rarely do) I am soon overwhelmed and have to sit down to catch my breath.

I only shop in stores where I’m familiar with the aisles and where products I need are shelved.

I check and re-check directions if I have to go to an unfamiliar address and leave with double the time needed to get there in case I get lost. Making on-the-fly course corrections doesn’t happen.

I pull off and have to figure out where I am.

And heaven forbid the phone rings past midnight -I wake with a start and even a wrong number means I won’t sleep for the rest of the night.

This is not “worry”. It’s not “borrowing trouble from tomorrow”. It is not an indication that my faith is weak or I’m “caving in” to my feelings.

It’s an uncontrollable physiological response to various stimuli.

So please, please don’t judge me or other bereaved parents for making choices about where we go, when we go and how much we go-most of the time we are anticipating an anxious response and trying to beat it.

We are doing the best we can.

Honest.

Repost: Dealing With Anxious Thoughts

As a follow up to the repost a couple days ago: Why is Anxiety Part of Child Loss?, I wanted to share this entry.

Here are some practical ways to deal with anxious thoughts, take them captive or redirect my focus so that they don’t rule my heart.

Please feel free to add any helpful tips in the comments section below. We learn best from those that share our journey. You may have the very words that will encourage another parent’s broken heart!

I no longer have to imagine the worst thing that could happen in the life of a mother-I know exactly how it feels.

And if I allow my heart to ponder that too often or too long, it consumes me.

So I am learning to take those anxious thoughts captive, learning to make them live in only a small corner of my mind instead of taking it over completely.

It takes effort and discipline, but it’s possible.

I don’t have to live the rest of my days a quivering mess-

Read the rest here: Dealing With Anxious Thoughts

Repost: Grief Brain: It’s a Real Thing!

You are not going crazy because you can’t remember your best friend’s name.

You haven’t lost your mind because you can’t find your car keys, or the purse you put them in, or get lost in a store.

It’s grief brain.

And it’s a real thing….

Read the rest here: Grief Brain: It’s a Real Thing!

Help! I Need Somebody!

So, more than twenty years on a farm and I can NOT back a trailer. Nope. Can’t do it.

One day I spent hours trying to teach myself how to do it. Never was able to do anything other than manage to jackknife the trailer, go unhook it and start over.

When I go somewhere with a trailer I do one of two things: (1) I find a space where I can drive in and be able to just make a loop or (2) I find the nearest person who CAN back a trailer, hand them my keys and ask them to do it.

I feel NO shame.

But that’s not the case with other things I can’t do. So many times I try to avoid admitting that I am unable to meet certain people’s expectations or do certain things that I either used to be able to do or feel I SHOULD be able to do.

I think the reason I don’t mind outing myself on trailers is because that confession usually gets a laugh or a knowing look from the person who helps me or an admission from someone standing near at the feed store that they also have trouble backing up a trailer.

But when I say, “I just don’t think I’m up to teaching VBS” or “I’d love to come to that event but I’ve reached my social quota this week” or “I’m still struggling with driving by that spot or eating at that restaurant” it’s often met with (at best) a quizzical look or (at worst) a comment about how I should be “better” by now.

And then I DO feel shamed. I feel like I don’t measure up, like I’m not as valuable as the next person or that I have failed some cosmic test.

You know what though? That’s a reflection on other people’s lack of compassion and experience or their personal insecurity NOT a reflection of my worth.

It is really just fine for me to admit my limitations because EVERYONE has limitations.

I can’t lift a 250 lb barbell. But I can whip up dinner for fifty people. I can’t read Chinese but I can read Dr. Seuss with an accent and hit all the rhymes on cue. I can’t run a marathon but I can work all day without complaining (most of the time).

I’m human (surprise!). So are you.

I have some limitations as a result of burying a child. You may have limitations because of age or disease or something else I don’t know about or can’t see.

That’s OK.

Let’s make a pact: I’ll take you as you are and you can take me as I am. I’ll help you when you need help and you can help me when I need help.

We will extend grace and receive grace as needed to make life work.

Isn’t that really the essence of human community?

Grief Brain: It’s a Real Thing! PART TWO: Coping Strategies

So now that you know you aren’t going crazy, what to do?

Give yourself grace-understand that the old you is not the new you.

You will not be able to overcome these very real changes by sheer force of will. No matter how talented or together you used to be, it’s unlikely you can operate on that high plane right now. If you try, you will only exhaust the resources you have left.

So slow down and make room for how grief has impacted your mind.

There are some basic self-care techniques that bear fruit in every area, not only mental acuity:

Eat balanced meals or snacks-It doesn’t matter if you WANT to eat. Consider that you are fueling your body so that it can feed your mind. Find a protein bar you like or eat easy-to-make salads or sandwiches. When blood sugar levels are stable, your mind works better.
Get as much quality sleep/rest as possible-This is very hard, I know, when the setting sun brings memories and thoughts that make sleep almost impossible. But research “sleep hygiene” and apply the techniques that might work for you. Herbal supplements and teas can help as well as prescription medications.
Drink enough water-hydration is so very important and easy to ignore.
Limit alcohol and/or other stimulants/depressants -any of which can interfere with your ability to think and remember. (Do NOT stop medication unless you do so in concert with your doctor)
Exercise-There’s no need to run a 5K. Just a walk around the block or even around your house can get your blood pumping and providing more oxygen to your brain.
Get a physical exam to rule out hypothyrodism, diabetes, heart disease, or any other physical cause for your symptoms. If prescribed treatment, follow the protocol.

Develop work arounds:

I simply admit to people I’m meeting for the first time that I will not remember their name unless and until I use it multiple times, and even then I might forget. It takes the pressure off so I don’t have to pretend when I see them again.
I write down EVERYTHING. If I put something “someplace safe” I jot down the location in my calendar. If I make an appointment or need to make a phone call, I write it where I can see it. If I commit to bring something to a potluck meal, I put down what I promised and when it needs to be there.
I ask for help. Like I said before, if I make lunch plans with friends, I ask that they text me the day before to remind me. If I need extra time to fill out a form, I speak out-I’ve never had anyone refuse. If I can’t remember something important, I admit it and look it up. I have given my family permission to tell me when I’m repeating myself.
I maintain routines and habits. Keys-same place,always. I have a carabiner on my purse to attach them when I leave my truck. Glasses-same place, always. Medicines in those little seven-day sorted containers.
I use the Internet, mail and telephone calls to expedite things and minimize stressful interactions with people. If I am going out to a restaurant, I look up the menu online so I’m not forced to make a decision on the spot. I look up and print directions even though my phone can navigate on the fly. I call ahead to learn how long a repair will take, if items are available and if my prescriptions are actually ready. I send letters and cards instead of visiting when I’m feeling overwhelmed.

Lifestyle choices:

I aim for balance: Harder tasks with easier ones; stressful outings with quiet moments; reading with sewing; outside and inside; work and play. Switching up seems to help keep me sharper somehow.
I don’t overcommit. When someone asks me to do something, unless it is truly an emergency requiring an immediate answer, I consult my calendar. If I already have a couple commitments for a week, I beg off or reschedule for another time. I realize that those working outside the home have far less control over these things but perhaps you might ask your boss for some leeway.
I group similar tasks and do one thing at a time. I find that doing things that require the same skillset on a single day increases my ability to do them well. Shopping, writing notes, cleaning house are things I schedule for one day at a time. I am absolutely NO GOOD at multitasking anymore.
I’m realistic about what I can and can’t do. It is humbling to admit that I’m no longer tolerant of small children and large crowds. I used to be able to handle both. But I just can’t do it, so I limit my exposure. I won’t serve in the nursery at church and I don’t attend concerts. That’s just the way it is now.
I plan for laughter. If it doesn’t happen organically, I seek something uplifting and funny to tickle me into laughing out loud at least once a day. Laughter helps me cope and releases all kinds of feel-good hormones. With the world of memes at your fingertips, this is an easy thing to do.
I refuse to apologize. Yes, I might say, “I’m sorry” when I forget someone’s name, but I don’t make it a habit to make excuses for my inability to live up to others’ expectations. I learned early on that anyone who has not walked this Valley can’t really understand anyway. It frustrates me, adds to stress and does no good. So I let my “yes” be “yes” and my “no” be “no”. I’m beyond being embarrassed.

I do the best I can as long as I can.

And when I reach my limit, I admit it without being shamed.

My Choices Reflect My Focus

My daughter is a quote collector like her mama.

Here’s the one she has taped to her dashboard:

That is challenging for me.

When the one thing happens you think will never happen, well, that opens a whole chest full of fears you thought you’d locked inside.

But when I wake up I get to choose: will I give in or fight back?

I’m learning that while I can’t stop the thoughts that fly around in my brain I can choose which ones I invite to make a nest there.

When fear threatens to undo me, I resist.

I refuse to react to what MAY happen. I choose to hold onto what IS happening, right now.

Truth is, either way, I have no control over the future.

I will not lose today because of what tomorrow might bring.

Repost: HALTing a Grief Spiral

I have to remind myself often of these tips. So in case you do too, here’s the original post:

If you’ve ever been in any kind of counseling or recovery group , you have probably seen or heard this acronym and advice: HALT before you speak.

It’s a great reminder that I should take a moment to consider my frame of mind before I blurt out something that might damage a relationship or wound someone else’s heart.

I had never thought about it until recently, but it is also a great reminder to us who grieve that what we interpret solely as grief (which we cannot control) might be compounded greatly by other things (some of which we can control).

Read the rest here: HALTing a Grief Spiral

Can’t Fake It Forever

There’s a common bit of advice in grief circles: Fake it until you make it.

It’s not bad as far as it goes and can be pretty useful-especially just after the initial loss and activity surrounding it.

Like when I met the acquaintance in the grocery store a month after burying Dominic and she grabbed me with a giant smile on her face, “How ARE you?!!! It’s SO good to see you out!!!”

I just smiled and stood there as if I appreciated her interest, a deer caught in headlights, silently praying she’d live up to her talkative past and soon move on to another target.

Faked it.

Boom!

BUT there comes a time when faking it is not helpful. In fact, it’s downright dangerous.

Because if I fake it long enough and get good enough at it, I can convince myself that I have done the work grief requires.

Grief will not be ignored forever.

It bubbles up in physical symptoms and sleepless nights. It boils over in anger and impatience and anxiety and nervous habits.

There is no way through but through. It has to be faced head on.

Life circumstances kept me distracted and busy for the first four or five months after Dominic ran ahead to heaven.

I cried, screamed and was heartbroken-I definitely had my moments. But for the most part I functioned at a pretty high level.

It wasn’t until things slowed down that I had my come apart. And it caught me by surprise.

I was forced to sit in silence and face the feelings. I was compelled to hear my heart shatter-over and over again.

I’ve now had 33 months of this burden of sorrow. Almost three years to think about, work on and pray through the pain.

I’m learning to pay attention to my own heartbeat, to my body, to my triggers, to my joy-bringers, my joy-stealers and my limitations. I’m beginning to accept the bellycrawl progress through this tunnel of darkness by focusing on the bright light at the end.

I still fake it sometimes-it’s not worth it to me to get into a long conversation with that person I only see every year or so. Too much time, too much energy and too little reward.

But I’m learning to be more genuine with the people that matter most. I’m learning to be honest about how I feel, what I need and how much I can do.

And I refuse to allow busyness to creep up on me so that I don’t have the time and energy to continue doing the work grief requires.

Healthy Boundaries in Grief

As a people-pleasing first born who hates conflict, giving in has always been easy for me. It’s only later that I wish I hadn’t.

So for most of my life, setting personal boundaries has been challenging.

But in the aftermath of child loss, healthy boundaries are no longer optional, they are necessary for survival.

So what are healthy boundaries?

Saying “no” without guilt
Asking for what you want or need
Taking care of yourself
Saying “yes” because you want to, not out of obligation or to please others
Behaving according to your own values and beliefs
Feeling safe to express difficult emotions and to have disagreements
Feeling supported to pursue your own goals
Being treated as an equal
Taking responsibilty for your own emotions
Not feeling responsible for someone else’s emotions
Being in tune with your own feelings
Knowing who you are, what you believe, what you like

~sharonmartincounseling.com

What does this look like in real life?

Not being “guilted” into engaging in social/family/church activities before I am ready
Letting family and friends know when I need encouragement, companionship, solitude, help or space
Keeping or making doctor’s appointments and staying on top of my physical well-being by sleeping/eating/taking medication/exercising as best I can
Participating in what is helpful and life-giving to me when I want to and not because I feel like I have to.
Giving myself space and time to figure out how losing a child impacts my beliefs, my sense of self, my understanding of the world-being honest about questions and about struggles. If I have to take a break from church for awhile, that’s OK.
Expecting support from friends and family to do the work grief requires. If some in my circle can’t do this, then I’ll put those relationships on hold until I feel stronger. I am not required to live up to other people’s standards.
Embracing and acknowledging my own emotions. Not expecting someone else to “make me better”. No one can take away the sorrow and pain of child loss. It is excruciating. There is no way through but THROUGH. Face the feelings. Get help from a counselor if necessary. Join a support group. Find safe friends. But I will not be able to distract myself or ignore the heartache forever.
Understand that though I share the loss with others-a spouse, my surviving children, my child’s grandparents, etc-I am not responsible for how they are dealing with loss. I may offer help, may arrange counseling (especially for children), should strive toward an environment where feelings can be expressed-but I can’t work through their loss experience for them.
Pay attention to my own feelings and what triggers grief attacks. When I can, plan around the triggers. When I can’t, accept the feelings and go with them. If I need to leave a venue, leave.

What it doesn’t look like:

Healthy personal boundaries are not an excuse for bad behavior. They are not to be used as blunt instruments to bully others into submission or to advance my own agenda against theirs.

My boundaries don’t give me the right to be hateful, hurtful or unkind. They are not permission to pitch fits, make public displays or belittle others.

And they are absolutely NOT a reason to plaster hate speech across social media. If I have a personal relationship issue then it needs to be handled personally and privately not publicly. Vague Facebook statuses that suggest I’ve been offended by half my friend list are off limits.

Establishing healthy personal boundaries is work.

Already exhausted from grief, the last thing I want is more work.

But if I don’t defend the space and time I need to do the work grief requires I cannot make progress toward healing.

If I don’t limit my interaction with those who are unhelpful or downright hurtful, I will be dragged down further in the mire of sorrow and sadness.

If I don’t purposely pursue physical, emotional and psychological health, grief will kill me.

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