Grief and Loss

Emerging From a Cocoon

Discouraged, I thought, “I wish I could afford to go to therapy.” The grief over my last miscarriage and my pet’s illnesses weighed heavy on me. Further, for the past nine years, I had experienced one early pregnancy loss after another. Tired of leaning on my husband and friends for support, I largely dealt with my grief on my own.

Within days of crying out to the Universe for help, I received an auspicious e-mail in my inbox announcing…”A New Mourning: Healing after Pregnancy Loss Therapy Group offered at NO COST.” I was astounded! Soon after, more offers for free healing were made…a massage given by an energy worker who specializes in grief and loss; a healing session with an intuitive friend who channels and does body work; three healing sessions with a Reiki master and Re-connective healer; a Watsu water therapy session.

Once I made the commitment to heal my grief, the doors opened and I was supported in ways I could have never imagined. But, not only did I need to be willing to reach out for support, I also needed to be willing to receive it. When I met with each healer, I consciously said to myself, “Open […]

Trusting the Seasons of Life

“Crunch! Crunch! Crunch!” Absolute silence enveloped me except for the sound of my boots on the hard packed snow. I quickly shoved my gloved hands deep into my jacket pockets as I didn’t want my fingers to get frost bitten. With a scarf wrapped tightly around my neck, mouth and nose, and my wool hat on, I was fairly comfortable while walking my dog despite the frigid -8 degree temperature at ten in the morning.
         Not only was it completely silent, void of the usual birds chirping, squirrels scampering up and down pine trees, and neighbor’s dogs barking, but there was a deep stillness in the forest. The trees frosted with ice and snow didn’t move an inch as if they were glued in place by the coldness. Touching a branch with pine needles, some broke off, they were so brittle. Even the color of the clear sky was dull, silver-like, rather than it’s normal bright azure blue. I didn’t witness another being (human or animal) on my walk, as all were taking shelter. My soul reveled in the deep stillness and silence surrounding me.

During the last couple of months, I had withdrawn and taken shelter due to the emotional […]

By |February 1st, 2011|Acceptance, Grief and Loss|

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Navigating Grief

Grief is a mysterious creature. It lurks unnoticed in the dark corners of our hearts only to be un-leashed by the simplest of provocations…listening to a song, looking at a picture, watching a movie, a brief thought or memory flashes through our minds reminding us of our loss. All of a sudden, a torrent of tears wells up within and comes tumbling out, unannounced. In amazement, we wonder, “Where did that come from? I thought I was done grieving.” Just when we feel we have grieved all we can, there is still more.

There is no rhyme or reason to the grieving process. It is different for every person. What remains the same is our choice about how we navigate it. We can express our grief and thus allow it to open our hearts, freeing us to fully live. Or, afraid of experiencing another loss, we can close our hearts and hide from life. Now, not only have we lost someone we love, we die inside. Our creative life force energy is sucked dry causing us to feel anxious, depressed, tired and unfulfilled. Trudging through the day, we wonder, “What’s the point of living?”

Grief has been a constant companion on […]

By |December 18th, 2010|Grief and Loss|

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The Heart Rock Story

Cruising on I-90 form Washington back to Colorado, John and I are ready for rest after eight hours of driving. We stop at a campground with easy access to the freeway, just outside of Missoula, Montana. Fortunately, the campground is practically empty. We set up camp among tall ponderosa pines and bushes tucked away near a creek. It is the perfect respite from our long trip. Enjoying the solitude and beauty of our site, we decide to stay an extra day.

Sitting on a large rock at the edge of the creek, I allow myself to slow down and be in the moment. I notice small butterflies, bees, bugs and ants busy doing their thing. I take in the gurgling sound of the creek, the blue sky, and the warmth of the sun. At the height of the hot summer day, John and I don our bathing suits. We frolic and play in the creek, dunking our heads under the cold rushing water, and skipping rocks like we did when we were kids.

I lean down to pick up a rock and enjoy the way it feels in my hand. I notice its shape, a heart. It has cracks and white […]

By |December 18th, 2010|Grief and Loss|

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