As you may know from my writing, I am not much of a pet lover (click here for “Horseshit” blogpost.)
I don’t have anything against pets, except that they need to be fed, taken out, checked at the vet and bathed. They need supervision, attention and hygiene. As previously shared, I have already cleaned enough excrement to surpass my lifetime quota. But alas, I am starting to feel more like it might be time to consider getting a dog.
In the meantime, while walking with a friend I was admiring two dogs moving in full stride. These gorgeous animals were strutting in step with their owner who was loosely managing both dogs and both leashes. I was admiring their gait and their apparent exuberance. Until one of them got her paw, then her front leg stuck under the leash.
The dog didn’t even react. She just kept on strutting. No complaints. No looking around to see who was watching her. No gaze of expectation that someone would fix it for her. She just happily continued to do the “Walk of Life” (for you Dire Straits fans) to the best of her ability.
But it wasn’t as if this dog was unaffected by the tangle. It was hard for her to maintain the seamless pace and swagger she’d put forth up until that point. Eventually her front leg was nearly hoisted into the air, and even though it must have felt awkward she did her best to keep up the pace, After a few brief moments, her owner was able to untangle the leash from that paw/leg and the dog quickly resumed her previous gait.
Have you ever seen this happen with your own dog? Or someone else’s? Dogs seem very determined to carry on with business as usual. We humans like to do the same. And in many aspects of daily life those of us who can become like robots and continue to produce and perform no matter what the circumstances and conditions are around us, earn descriptors like “Successful…Efficient…and Effective.” Perhaps in the workplace there is some merit to pressing forward no matter what.
But I know one place that is definitely not the case. And that is on the healing path.
When we are grieving, our gaits get interrupted. Our paws/limbs might even be restrained, or awkwardly flailing about, but we may not know how to disentangle ourselves. When our ability to function at our pre-loss (pre-grief) capacity is hindered, we keep going anyway. And eventually, if we don’t untangle the proverbial leash wrapped around our leg, we lose our ability to walk altogether.
So we keep moving. We take care of our families, go to work, keep gas in the car, food in the house and try to remember to pay the electric bill. We attend social and community events and take out the garbage. (Notice “self-care” activities are not included here because those things often get shelved when we are hurting.)
We stagger along trying to walk like we did before our lives changed the second we had to say goodbye. And if we can’t untangle ourselves, it may take someone around us, some kind soul, who knows us well, loves us unconditionally and has the courage to stop us and say “Let’s sit for a minute.”
In its early stages, our tangled walk may mean we can’t get out of bed or that we can’t stop crying. We may not be able to see a way forward. This happened when my Daughter Alexis died, and when my Son Emmanuel died. The sheer absence of my children was the only thing I could feel. Other than the demands in my immediate environment I was not walking anywhere let alone doing the “Walk of Life.”
As this dynamic progresses, and in the absence of adequate support systems, an entangled grief walk can transition into more serious and unhealthy situations. We hear words like “depression” and “anxiety” a lot. So they have the capacity to lose their impact. But there is nothing common, or safe about feeling like there is no way out, like life is without purpose and that no one will ever understand. Those feelings are normal after loss. But they can threaten our well-being if left unchecked and untreated.
I share this as a reminder, because living with grief without making adjustments is a lot like a dog trying to walk with a leg tangled in her leash. We are doing all of the things we would normally do, with our families, with our friends, at our jobs and in our communities. Yet we are slow, off balance and maybe unaware of exactly what or where the tangle is. And we have no idea how to release its tug on us.
Living without people we love is a terrible skillset to have to learn, yet its one that we’re all called to practice during our lifetimes. Some people have more opportunities than others, to actualize their grieving and therefore healing skills. But when we have to let go of life as we know it, there is never a warm welcome toward that change. It’s HARD to grieve, and HARD to heal. But we don’t want to outsource these critical actions to others so they can slow us down and untangle us.
Instead, let’s make sure we are doing what we can to help ourselves. There are a couple of levers we can pull on our own, to help ourselves along, and eventually even break loose from the tangle. Here are some basic suggestions on what to do when missing your loved one is keeping you tangled up in blues:
Stop: Stop what you are doing. Take a day off, or a week. Not just from work. From EVERYONE and EVERYTHING. The best way to break the momentum of anything, is to stop driving the process. Just as we restart our computers when they don’t work, or reset the clocks because of a power outage, coming to a HAULT is the most effective way to mitigate additional damage. (And by damage I am referring to things like, quitting a job you need, ending relationships, numbing, hurting self or others and later feeling regretful. These situations can definitely make matters worse.)
Breathe: Run an internet search for self-calming measures, including breath work, or set up a complimentary on-line session with me to learn more (Link found here.) A general rule of thumb is to inhale for a count of 6, and exhale for a count of 7. Do this for 4-5 cycles per minute for a minimum of two minutes to calibrate your body to a sense of calm.
Connect: Find a way to spend time with someone who loves you unconditionally. This could be an interaction with family or friends, a pet and even God or nature. The duration of connection is less important than getting that healing balm (aka LOVE) to your wounds ASAP. Love is the shortest distance between tangles and relief so get it wherever you can.
Stay off Social and “News” Feeds: Without question this is one of the most dangerous activities to engage in when we are in the midst of a personal crisis. These “dealers” are exploiting our vulnerabilities by flooding us with FUD (Fear, Uncertainty and Doubt) and we are buying it hook, line and sinker. Just say no. And if you can’t, create some time limits around your participation in these alternative universes.
Give Yourself a Break: The healing path is rugged, has potholes and is covered with strewn debris. Even if we aren’t completely new to grief, each loss affects us differently. So lay off the self-talk that is negative, accusatory, critical, condemning, regretful and guilty and trade those destructive phrases for a simple mantra like:
- I don’t know exactly what I am doing but I am here and that is enough.
- Even though I can’t see a way forward there is one.
- I am not the first or last person to want to give up after losing a loved one.
- Today sucked but I will try again tomorrow.
One of my favorite mantras is “I have what I need and I know what to do.” It’s a quick reminder that in any given moment I can reclaim my balance. Even if I don’t believe it, I say it. And most of the time it eventually lands. This additional exercise on breaking our tangles is to architect our own mantra.
Try This: Imagine you are talking to a friend who is deep in grief, and what you might say to them simply and lovingly, to encourage them. Then write it down and put it where you won’t miss it. When you’re stuck say it out-loud. Repeat often.
Pro Tip: The more you say it, the deeper it takes root.
In summary, none of us can walk if our leg is tangled up with a leash, grief, unforgiveness or regret. If we have loving people around to encourage us, fantastic. But we don’t want to rely on others. After all, WE don’t even know what the hell we need or what happens next. So we shouldn’t assume someone, or something outside of us will be more of a healing asset to us than we can be for ourselves.
Lets engage in some of the “healing” activities we know to do, even if they haven’t worked in the past, and even if we don’t think they will work now. Our healing is 100% our business. We take the help we can get, but untangling ourselves from tragedy is a DIY, life-long commitment that we ourselves own. Or don’t.