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Posts tagged ‘Self-care’

Feb 26

From Survival Clothes to Comfy Coats

In the US it’s a zipper; the UK calls it a zip; and here in the Netherlands it is called a ritz. Well, the thing broke on my warm coat that I have worn for over ten years. I was told that I could replace the zipper, zip, or ritz, and the warm, dark-blue coat could continue on for many years. I got to thinking that maybe it was time for a new color. The hunt began, and I found something pretty that will last at least ten years. This time I’ll be in lavender.

The old winter jacket had a double zipper. I loved it, and it also could snap in! I must have put the zipper into the coat incorrectly because it got stuck in a royal way. I’ll have the new lavender version in two weeks. It has to come from the US.

This has made me think about things.

I’m one of those people who loves her clothes, and I’ll wear them forever. The last round of purchases I’ve come to think of as survival clothes. I purchased the stuff after Jon’s death. Now, as 2026 rolls into full bloom, I’m finding that I need to say goodbye to the old and welcome the new. It’s kind of like the fluffy towels; I just took a wee bit longer to arrive at this point. This is going to cost me somewhat more than the towels. I’m still liking my towels, so, it is all good.

This time I’m not caring for Jon. This time I’m not in survival mode, and this time I can take my time thinking it through. I realize that I’ll need to write a new “Please Do” post. There are things on the “do” list that I didn’t know then, and that I can now talk about because, as time passes, new things that we might not view as essential come to the forefront.

As I’ve worked through the trauma of Jon’s death and developed a crush on the iceberg, I’ve learned a new form of self-care. I don’t know if it is the grief or the trauma that we can encounter that causes us to not care for ourselves in healthy ways. I think it may be both, and I also believe that it depends on the person. Whatever it is, look out for yourself!

What Version of Death Are You Living With?

There are all kinds of ways to die. As loved ones and family and friends, the versions are many.

My grandmother died in her bed as she drifted off for an afternoon nap. My father slipped away quietly in a hospital bed. His body shut down fighting stomach cancer. He woke up for a minute and my mother told him that it was the thirteenth, and he got on with the business of dying. My mother died quietly in a hospital room, after a heart attack. For the most part, all three of the deaths were peaceful instead of traumatic. The deaths filled with trauma took longer to process, and different types of emotions surfaced, depending on the person and how they died.

I’ve said it here and will continue to say it: THERE IS NOT AN INCORRECT WAY TO GRIEVE, as long as you grieve when you are able to grieve. A decade out of losing Jon, I’ve discovered so much. There is now only moving forward. What a journey! This post is a delightful thing to write because I’ve done some deep soul work. The fact is that when I started out on this path, I was on a road that I had never walked before. Yes, I’d done family and friends’ deaths, but this one has been completely different. My sister died violently as the cancer ate away at her body. My brother slipped away, with Covid being one of the things that caused his death. All things considered, my mother died a peaceful death after her heart attack. Somehow, it was my mother’s death that hit me the hardest. It hadn’t been six months since Jon’s leaving, and I didn’t fly to her funeral. I let my family talk me out of the flight. I should have flown over for it.

I believe that being at a service for those you love helps the process along. Funerals are for the living, not the dead.

This new fluffy coat is going to rock my world. So is all the healing from trauma, and what it brings. It is a new season and time in my life. I’ve done well finding my way on this journey. I should be proud of all of this. I’m happy with where I’m headed and give credit where credit is due. Nah, it’s the fluffy lavender jacket.

Apr 14

Editor’s Pick: The Rose Room

Originally posted on August 23, 2019, this piece is good reminder of how carving out one’s own little special space can help us find peace during times of struggle.

-Claudia

As some of my readers know, I’ve just painted and will be painting the rest of the space soon. There was one room that has gone untouched. It is a beautiful rose color, and in it there are many treasures. It is the Room of All Things Gail.

On the walls there are works of art, and each piece has a loving history.

There is a painting that my aunt Ruth did way back when that I treasure. I love it because she let me have it, knowing how much it meant to me. There is the counted cross-stitch that my friend Leann labored to create for me. It is beautiful, and I cherish it because she performed a labor of love when she stitched it.

Along with that, my older sister Beth has a place of honor with the picture that has been with me since childhood. It is a Gail version of The Princess and the Pea. She put me in a blue dress on top of many mattresses. Each mattress is a different color and design. I love this so much and someday it will go to one of her daughters.

Hanging in the Room, and moved from the bedroom, is another counted cross-stitch. My sister-in-law Peg made this for our wedding. It, too, was done with love. Shared love is the only requirement to be placed in this Room.

I also have two stained-glass pieces of art that my mother-in-law Mary made. I am so thankful to have them.

Hanging in another place of honor is the wedding bouquet that my three sisters-in-law Peg, Bev, and Rebecca created for me.

There are two parasols that Jon hung up. I’ve mentioned in “Sneakiness is Happiness” that he backlit them for me. That is a day I will remember forever. Oh, the love that filled the space that day!

The Room holds objects that span the years of my life and are sacred to me. It holds something from a friend who I came to know in the last five years of my life. That friendship has given me many gifts of thought and hope. Thank you, Betty. The Room is my place of healing and restoration. I can sit quietly, get ready for my day, and read in that room.

In some ways the Room has existed for a few years, but in other ways the Room is new. The Room in its present form emerged into its new role in my life over the late summer and early fall. It started with knowing that I wanted to place a new piece of furniture in the Room, and as I envisioned where it would go and how it would feel in the Room, The Room grew in purpose and my understanding of the space began to change. What I had used as an office during Jon’s life would be no more. My office was to move to the other side of the house where the sunlight can stream into it and I can see out into a larger world.

This Room called Gail is a place of healing and hope. This is where my heart is found, where the healing is strongest, and where, when I enter, I find the most peace.

For those of you who read “Raw” or listened to the podcast (Parts 1, 2, and 3) that I posted late in 2017, my healing journey has been both traumatic, challenging, amazing, and in some ways even peaceful. I suppose that it has been a combination of watchfulness, the love and caring of others, and the understanding that this type of pain and hurt only dissipate when faced head-on. It is my tiny sanctuary, however, that allows me to find what I most need in my heart.

It is the realization that I can say a loving goodbye to someone I have loved deeply. He is not in pain now. It is also an acceptance that I can hold on to his memory in new ways.

The creation of this space has done its secret healing and holds a place in my soul that I didn’t understand until I let go to find it.

I don’t think that there is any single or correct way to heal from something like this. I think that the best healing comes from following your heart and soul and listening to your gut. Healing involves talking and finding a supportive listener. For the listener, you need to choose wisely. Find someone who you feel a bond with, someone who respects you, and who you respect. If there is not such a person in your life, then find a good therapist who understands both grief and the loss involved with a completed suicide.

Healing is about recognizing that you will have really good days, really bad days, happy days, and days of hopelessness. Healing is about allowing the depression that will come because of the death that has entered into your life. Sit with the depression for a time, and if it doesn’t fade, seek professional help. Healing is about understanding that the pain will diminish and calm. Healing is about loving yourself. It is about seeing yourself in the mirror as “enough”: no more and no less than “enough.”

Healing takes strength and courage. It is your own unique journey.

As I spend time in this healing space, I’m discovering its complete power. It is the power of the lit candle in the darkness. It is the homing beacon that steadies me. It is that place that tells me that I’m loved, both by myself and by many others who I both know personally and who I only know because of the Internet.

To walk through the process of healing is also to be able to look out the window on a grey day and see the sun that the clouds hide. It is a knowing that you and only you can fully understand. It comes from traveling through it and stumbling along the way. It happens when you stand up once more and say “AGAIN!” You are never beyond, but you have moved on.

Forward movement takes on many forms. Sometimes it is a return to the old haunts, and other times it is the unexpected and unfamiliar that call to the soul. In many ways, the Room of All Things Gail was totally unexpected to me. It was a feeling that I had to create a place of sanctuary.

As I write this, I am in my new, blue office space surrounded by books, my sand tray collection, and hope. This space is one I’ve claimed as mine. As I look out of the window, I see the stormy skies closing in; I see the other homes in the area. Most of all, I see LIFE. It is good. It is peaceful and this is my space now. This is the room where he wrote the notes. This is the room where he spent so many hours. And yet, this is not “that room” any longer. The painter came one November day and covered the rich green walls with my beautiful blue color. The painter took nothing away but what had to go. It doesn’t hurt like it did a year ago. This is a place I come to work and to enable the healing of others. This room also holds some treasures.

While blue is the color of my soul, it has not been the color of my deepest healing. That has been rose. That Room is just a few steps away from where I now sit working on this, and I shall go there to feel the warmth of the sanctuary: the Room of All Things Gail.

As I sit here, I realize that I could not have created this lovely space without the Room of All Things Gail. It was the power of healing that let me say goodbye to what had been, and greet anew what was to be. It was the power in that Room of Rose that set me on a journey to claim the space I’m now working on. It was the realization while sitting in that space that I could, and should, listen to my heart and follow my desires to create what I wanted for myself. Thank you, Rose Room. I think I’ll go there now to pause, give thanks, and continue the journey.

Apr 9

Do it for World Peace

In the past few weeks, I’ve noticed that stress levels are rising. Prospective clients are seeking services because they “can’t calm down to think,” and taking deep breaths is becoming essential to all of us.

I understand that tensions are high worldwide, and laughing isn’t what it used to be.

I’m going to suggest a few things to help people in this storm that we’re in. You don’t need to spend money to do these things—you only need to keep it simple.

  1. You are not alone in this! Everyone is feeling this stress, and at this point in time, community is more important that ever.
  2. Take a look out your window and notice that there is a world out there. Then go out and find something in nature to be grateful for. A fallen leaf, the sky, the sun, or a tree. We learned this as children in school, and as adults our societies have taken it from us. It is time we restore ourselves to what sanity we can!
  3. Hold those you love close. Cherish the ones you love. You may not have biological family. You may have a chosen family. Share time together.
  4. Share a meal with others where you all contribute to the bounty on the table. Connection builds new relationships.
  5. Kindness goes a long way. Kindness done with an open heart can touch another person in powerful ways. Pay it forward because the person you touch with kindness may need your gift.
  6. Love your fur friends? Take extra time to pet, walk, play with, and nurture them. They can, and do, sense your stress. They’ll love you unconditionally if you let them. OK, I know, dogs have masters, and cats have staff; they will seek you out. My cat did, and in that time of need she curled up like the lovely fur family member she was.
  7. Meditate.
  8. Discover exercise because your body will thank you, and it helps with the stress levels.
  9. Try “grounding” yourself. If you can, go outside and take your shoes off. Stand in the grass and let yourself sense the earth. Notice what happens.
  10. Take a nice warm bath or shower. Notice how the water feels on your skin.
  11. Smile and say hello to someone that you don’t know.
  12. Share a treat with someone.
  13. Set boundaries. Say no, because too much on your plate it not a sign of anything but not being able to set healthy boundaries for yourself and others.
  14. Practice taking mental health days. Time off from everything will create focus for yourself and enable you to return to your life relaxed and ready to meet the day.
  15. Create time to enjoy your favorite meal. Have lots of it! If you can, share the meal. It is your reward, and rewards are important.

It is my personal belief that when we care for ourselves, we also care for others, and in doing this self-care the world becomes a happier and healthier place. So, if for no other reason, do it for the betterment of the world we all live in.

Jan 8

The Getaway

Happy New Year! I think I’m ready for 2025. The rain is falling. I’m in my cozy home; the wind is blowing hard outside, and I have new plans for the year.

Working more hours is causing me to need to take more time off to care for my own mental health. I figured this out over the Christmas holiday week. I decided to go to Norway for a tiny five-day break. What happened there taught me that I needed to treat myself as well as I tell my clients to treat themselves, and so, this year I’ll take more time off to care for myself.

Maybe last year’s learning about my own personal growth experience did the trick. When you deal with the deep stuff inside, you also come to accept the need for better self-care.

I had not taken a break in some time, and between falling and having to walk out of the rehab center, and everything else, I decided to brave the travel mess and get on a bird. Because I stayed on the continent, there was not the hassle of passport control. Norway was delightful, and so were my friends.

Why do we need breaks? The obvious response is to recharge and reset. There is nothing like doing nothing! Maybe I got too relaxed, and that is not helpful. Or, maybe I haven’t been that relaxed in years and forgot what it felt like. I think that’s what we need to do on a getaway.

The above statement causes me to ask the question: How much relaxation is the right amount? How do I learn to recreate and recharge, and to do it in a reasonable amount of time? As someone who wasn’t raised on vacations, I haven’t learned this vital skill. How do I learn this? Well, Gail, you learn it by doing it, planning for it, and building the new habit.

Staycations won’t work because I need to leave my place of employment—my home. I need to get out from my office. That means leaving, and going to a place that isn’t my bed. I need to not cook, to not see my office, and to find a place to be myself.

I’ll need to come up with some local, and not-so-local, places that offer me peace and a sweet break. The hitch is that I need to be able to much of it independently. I don’t see like I once did, and I think I may be scaring people. I know I need to have help, as that is the way my life is now. All I want to do is sit and veg out. I do enough at home! 

So, no crazy destinations with things to see and do. I need to teach myself to be still, and to be pampered. A spa is really sounding nice. You get pampered at the spa.

I have a lovely year ahead. I could take mental health days, and just sit outside! The glitch in doing this is that it can only be done in the summer, and when it is sunny and warm. I guess for this one I need a new umbrella for the sun. Hmmm… purple or blue sound like nice colors to consider for this.

The obstacle to all of this is that it has to be implemented by me. Isn’t that what it’s about? Taking charge of our own well-being? I’m learning to care for myself in new ways. I’m realizing that my clients need a therapist who honors her own needs, and who will get away.

I may take off not only US holidays: I may take off some Dutch ones as well. Yes, this also requires planning, and in the end, it is good for me. Setting boundaries is a good thing to encourage the wonderful time I need for myself to refresh.

Happy 2025, Gail. The new year is looking like a brighter year.

Aug 26

Reaching towards the Sun

I ended a recent post with these words: “Maybe a candle will be lit, a chocolate offered, a sunflower presented as a means of closure on this chapter of my life. Maybe a new dress? I know it will be meaningful to me, and to what the future can bring. I’m beginning to cry just thinking about it, and that’s a sign I’m on the right path.”

As I stepped away from writing that post, my heart was full. It’s been a very long journey, and it is ending in being able to say goodbye to the old, and welcoming in something new. Discharging the warriors of the past has been a labor of both love and pain. I wasn’t certain where I’d be led to in future days.

I’m choosing to say goodbye slowly and treating each warrior with respect, cutting them some slack for the hard work they did in my life. I’m welcoming them all in with open arms, and dismissing them with love in my heart. To do less would be to dishonor the process of the discharge, and myself. I needed them to stand for me when I couldn’t stand for myself through painful times.

I’m discovering that, in saying goodbye to the old in my life, I’m also saying goodbye to old things that served the process of defending me, thereby preventing me from moving forward. One such thing is podcasts that I no longer need to listen to. And so, after sitting with the concept of not needing them, I unsubscribed. The algorithms will show them for a bit and, in time, these unneeded coping tools will fade away.

Doing the deep work of the soul is also about accepting the birth of new things in my life. This work takes us into the liminal or thin spaces. You will find it spoken about by Richard Rohr and other authors.

I’m in the process of replacing some plants. I’m discovering that what I might want now is far different because of the change in my life direction. This change is opening me up to new ideas and new colors. The cool colors of the past need to be greeted by warmth along the fences of my garden. I want the colors to embrace me. I think it is about the sunflowers that have become a place of connecting in spiritual ways. I first considered them as spiritual friends after reading Water, Wind, Earth, and Fire: The Christian Practice of Praying with the Elements by Christine Valters Paintner. She took me on a journey to places I hadn’t been before, and I engaged with the sunflowers.

Deep Shadow Work

I believe that if I haven’t done my own deep work, I won’t be effective with those I work with. You can’t ask someone to heal wounds that you haven’t looked inside yourself to heal. You may not have the exact same issues, but everyone has wounds and, left unchecked, they cause problems for us. Henri Nouwen wrote on the wounded in The Wounded Healer. Nouwen had his own set of challenges. This priest found rest in his own way, and by doing his own soul work. His writing is telling.

What I understand is that one of the most powerful places we can dwell in is the place of uncertainty. When you don’t have all the answers for all the things everyone wants answers for, it brings a sense of humility to our lives. Saying “I don’t know” may be the wisest thing we can say. I can tell my clients that I can lead them to healing. They have to do the work and discover their own answers.

Engaging our shadow side brings us knowledge and understanding of ourselves that we can’t bring to the surface in any other way. We are also faced with the reality that there isn’t much we know because we’ve just dug deep into the ground of ourselves and unearthed our deepest truths. This place leads us into the liminal places that cause us to rethink it all.

Not knowing is a gift not only to ourselves—it is a gift for others. As we engage with others and have the attitude that we’re open to learning their truth, we add to our knowledge base and maybe recognize within ourselves a portion of our own truth that had been blocked by our arrogant knowing.   

Having written “Solidiers of the Mind: Honorable Discharge,” I find myself sitting in the quietness of more uncertainty. I find myself asking who or what will show up in my garden to teach me something I need to learn. I think I instinctively knew that sunflowers needed to become a symbol in this process. And so, I will reach towards the sun.

Jul 2

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Morning Has Come

The shouting, the screaming, the yelling that carries through the halls and walls of a home: the children cowering in rooms behind locked doors, curled up in balls at the bottom of a bed, hoping that if they do so, the noise will go away. It never does. They live in hopes that their parents will see the error of staying for the kids and end the terror of days and nights. They didn’t ask to be a part of this.

This is how you come to see me. This is how the secrets of lives get unbottled: slowly, gently, until they all spill out in their ugly horror. They fall to the ground for us to inspect, and when we dare to look, because we can no longer ignore what is present, we must come to realize and understand that the path we’ve been on can’t be walked alone. If we try to do the walk alone, it falls apart. We understand this because that is what we tried the last time, and it didn’t go well for us.

It is not reasonable to attempt to fix trauma by ourselves. To do so is risky. When you are in the forest, where it is dark, you need a light held for you so that you can navigate through the trees. The forest has goblins, witches, and wizards waiting for us. Some sit quietly, waiting to see what the trees tell us; still, others would cast spells. With the light, we see dimly to the next safe spot, and as we weave our way forward, the cries of the darkness begin to recede.

At times we stumble, and at other times we run forward, believing we see the light in its fulness, only to fall and injure ourselves. It is then we understand the value of the person with the flashlight. It is the guide who has been in the forest before. Guides understand the nature of the darkness. They run rivers and are willing to return to offer safe passage to others. These guides may or may not have run your river or walked through your forest. What they have faced is their own journey, and come out on the other end. 

We stand at the place of boarding, waiting to connect with the one who joins with us. We gently clasp hands, at first in timidity, and then more surely. Then we jointly launch ourselves into deep exploration.

In our transit to another place, there are codes that are both spoken and unspoken. It’s a sensing that the guide, able to transit us to new places, understands. In this place we learn from each other. We both have things to teach and to learn. 

Trauma is a teacher and guide if we allow it to be. It teaches us to be brave enough to heal and to listen for the lessons of the hidden passages. In healing, we discover unknown strengths and weaknesses, and we encounter questions that we didn’t want answers to and yet need so desperately. 

In discovery, we come to understand who we may have damaged along the way. We realize those we must part company with for our own well-being. We must also seek forgiveness from others we’ve harmed. The brokenness that we entered with is healing in ways we couldn’t imagine. Our bodies and our souls are made stronger for this experience, and as we see to the full light of day, we raise our heads high and walk slowly into the light of a new beginning, for morning has come.

Jun 25

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Not for Wimps

Therapists have therapists. What is to be said? Wise therapists have some form of professional that they can turn to for their own needs. Let’s call it professional self-care of the soul.

Our souls need to be able to be heard and assured. We need to explore our interactions and pamper ourselves. It is also good professional ethics, as it keeps us from making huge mistakes.

I’ve spent time thinking about the care and watering of our hearts and souls over this past week. At the end of a particularly difficult session, my therapist made it a point to ask me about what I’d be doing the rest of the day. Our conversation was different because of the work we both do. The result of my process that day was that I became aware of how long it took to calm my heart and let the results of the session work inside of me.

What can we do to exercise self-care in times of need? This seems to be something that people need to learn, and so I’m going to list things.

Free Stuff

I’m suggesting free things because self-care shouldn’t stress you out. If money is an issue, trying to pay for something will make it counterproductive.

I’m not suggesting things to pay for because you’re going to have your own personal favorites (mine is sushi).

The list below is meant to trigger ideas:

  • Listen to music
  • Enjoy a garden
  • Binge-watch an old favorite show
  • Watch your favorite movie series
  • Read an old favorite book
  • Stay in bed longer, but get up and take the day slower if needed
  • Observe nature from where you are
  • Find a pair of shoes to dress up your feet
  • Do something fun with a scarf in your hair, or with what you’re wearing

Why Do We Need to Care for Ourselves?

Why wouldn’t we want to show ourselves the compassion that we show to others? Self-care enables us to know our bodies and minds better. Self-care is also an important component of a balanced life. I posted about a holiday that I took to Wales, and along with it the hitches that come with my travel experience. When friends found out that I hadn’t done anything for myself in years, the push was on to get me to holidays. 

The first Saturday, I crashed on the comfiest lounge I’d sat on. The exhaustion of ten years of caretaking, and not feeding my spiritual, emotional, and social needs, sent me into a sleepy state of being. I didn’t understand the depths of needing to get away from it all. I’d done too many “staycations” and not enough real holidays. I returned replenished and ready for a new chapter in my life.

Self-care is about allowing ourselves to claim our inner strength and acknowledge that we need to feed all of the self. Self-care is about being brave. Self-care is not for wimps. Another way I practice self-care is to keep a lovely supply of scented candles in the home. I’m presently burning three in different rooms of the house.

Candles allow me to imagine the sea and smell different types of air: the pumpkin of fall and the fresh breezes of the spring season. It’s about the candles and the scent. They are a spiritual practice that I love.

Jun 17

Light On, Light Off

Over the last two weeks, I’ve had leg pain. I call the doctor, and I ask for something that won’t make me walk into walls during the day. We spend time on the phone, and she comes up with a pill. Great. I take the pill before I go to sleep and wait for an hour for it to kick in to working mode. Since it says I can take three pills per day, I do so in the middle of the night. I’ll sleep it off. RIIIIGHT.

I spent my Saturday fighting sleep—with no caffeine in the house. I now believe that there isn’t a painkiller that won’t make you dopey. It’s the nature of the pill, and what it needs to dull. Endure the pain and stay awake. Take the pill and let the body heal. But you’ll have to sleep it off at night and deal with pain during the day. So, I must listen to the pain during the waking hours.

I can take pain, but this time it made me cry as I walked on my leg, and this time I didn’t like what I heard. It was a cry of an animal in pain. It scared me to hear it. That is why I phoned the doctor. The physio says it’s neurological. She’s entitled to her opinion. I’m entitled to my thoughts: it hurts and I want the pain gone. I also want to know why the other leg is acting up, and the physio is most likely correct about why my right leg is hurting.

While pain can serve the function of letting us know that the body is in need of rest and care, it also lets us know we’re injured. Pain is nature’s message to us that we need to listen to our bodies. Pain also takes time to recover from. In Western society we aren’t good at listening to our bodies. We push them, abuse them, and, ultimately, and many times when it’s too late, pay attention to impending doom. And yet it is the same with mental pain. It is also a signal that something is wrong, and we need to listen and get help for the pain. That’s my job: to help you through the mental pain.

The body amazes me, and baffles me. I’m amazed that this thing I dwell within is complex and functional, and that it for the most part allows us to move and do things for ourselves from a young age. We’re the only creations that must be cared for during the first years of our lives. We have no instincts that kick in to tell us what is safe and not safe. Parents are supposed to do that. We’re born helpless, and we’ll die and go out helpless. I say this about death because we can’t control our deaths, and thus can’t control the process: we’re helpless.

The body baffles me because of its complexity and how things function. When things go wrong, we try to fix them. I marvel at the brainpower at Utrecht’s UMC. Every time I set foot in that place and I head to the right to all the outpatient clinics I must access, I understand that the physicians in those clinics are full professors and researchers. They are curious souls who want to know everything they can about a particular part of the human body. While something might baffle them, their response is to research about it. A statement of “we don’t know” means that they don’t have a legitimate answer for me. They keep plugging away at the questions that need answers.

When I think about animals and how they die, many go off alone. It’s instinct that drives them to separate from the group. It is a community preservation instinct. As humans who are older and nearer to death, our sleep habits change. Some people start wanting a light on, while others drift off to sleep quietly. Some become religious, while others swear like sailors. 

This last year has caused me to think more about the process of death. I don’t know what death holds. Do we just switch off? I don’t know. Do we drift off into the cosmos? I don’t know. Is there a heaven where we go? I can hope, but I don’t know. I think about death more now because I’m at that point in time where I have more life in front of me, and much more behind me. Hmm.

When you start thinking about death, it becomes an existential issue. What happens? What do I do with all my stuff? What do I need to resolve before it all ends? People might want to draw family near to them. The realization that soon it will be too late to say what needs to be said becomes real. This is why hospice and chaplains can be such a great gift for so many. Making peace with it all before we die is important.

Maybe that’s why sleeping with a light on when you’re older and near death is a thing. If you die, and it goes dark, you’re dead. If you die, and it gets brighter, you’re dead. If you die without the light on, will you know you’re dead? Light on, or light off? That is the question.

Apr 16

The Secrets We Keep

Since coming home from the rehab center, I’ve been playing catch-up. This weekend I binge watched Netflix. 

Why? There are two reasons. My birthday was this last Friday, and I needed a break to reboot it all.

The physical therapist is doing house calls right now because I’m not walking distances yet. In talking with her today, I told her what I’d done, and how good it felt. She commented on the fact that I’d been through a great deal with it all. Yes, I have, and no one has asked me about dealing with the stress of it all! I commented on this fact, and her response was that it’s different for each person. Here I am writing this, because someone should ask everyone about the stress of such injuries.

The fact is, injury that requires a rehab stay is hard, and dealing with it all is difficult. I knew the signs and still felt that I couldn’t ask to talk to someone! I will now.

This is all about understanding our needs and tuning into ourselves, and yet I was overwhelmed and couldn’t ask. When you’re in the soup, you can’t see out of where you are. Trauma of all sorts causes us to need assistance. A grieving person is stuck in the soup, and they need people to come and “please do” for them. It might be the dishes, the garbage, a meal, or something else.

I try to be independent, and I need help at times. My enneagram type eight can be a hindrance if I don’t get to my two arrow, which softens me, and then I can ask for what I need. So now I’ll go there and get what I need. 

This makes me think of all the things that are hard, that we don’t speak about, and that we keep in until we discover that we’re not alone in our thinking. I get that we need to hold things confidential. Confidential isn’t a secret, and we keep things secret to ourselves. There are many things that we all fail to process in the time period they are happening to us. Then it makes it easier to hide from the facts. My spiritual director has been a real resource for this. She calls me out and asks good questions, and in reflection I learn where I am. My therapist makes me work to fix what is going on within, and I go there when I need to do short-term work and fix-it work. Both are helpful.

My hunch is that we don’t talk about some of the stuff we need to talk about because of old taboos. In the past, depression and sexual assault and molestation were two of the biggies that got buried deep down. Addiction, and all of its variants, was another area that was not to be spoken of. Here we are in a time when we can speak, and we hesitate until it gets so bad that it may be critical. Opening up about what ails us can be good for the soul.

Sometimes we wind up on a new soul journey, and as we navigate the river, it feels like we might be evaluating old relationships with all areas of our lives. I think we’ve crossed a river of time in how we talk—and don’t talk—about things. We’re distracted, and so, maybe we hide it all. What a wild web it all is.   

We’re distracted by tech, the fast pace of life, and the stuff that happens automatically that we don’t see. We’re caught off guard by the global pace of change. What we need to do is build in time for ourselves to reflect. This weekend was all done on instinct. My psyche knew what I was ignoring: I needed to vegetate and do nothing. Today I can face the world again. The time not thinking seems to have reset an internal clock that needed resetting. This week, the catch-up will hopefully move to the caught-up phase. This week I’ll ask for more help. Lesson learned.