WAKING UP HAPPY: Lessons in Grief, Guilt, and Self-Forgiveness

One of the most confusing things about grief is its unpredictability. When my daughter was going through the worst of her addiction and I felt as if I had lost her forever, grief would overwhelm me when I least expected it.

Once I turned down an aisle at a department store and found myself, by accident, in the baby-and-child section, where the sight of those sweet little outfits, the dresses trimmed with roses, the tiny socks and leggings, the adorable mary jane shoes, hit me like a punch to the stomach.

Another time, I was at a fundraising auction when I came across a little girl’s dress with heart buttons all down the front, complete with matching tights, and didn’t realize I was crying till I felt the tears on my cheeks.

Sometimes I would hear a child call out, “Mommy!” and reflexively turn, then feel a sharp pain in my chest before my mind had even realized why.

Christmas, once my favorite holiday, turned dark the year she ran away at age 15. I had no way of knowing where she was, whether she was hurt or scared or in terrible trouble. I could not rid my mind of pictures of her homeless on a city street somewhere. I remember the weight of her stack of still-gaily-wrapped presents as I took them out from under the tree, wondering if I would ever see her again. They were so heavy I could barely lift them over my head to store them on the closet shelf.

I couldn’t bear the family togetherness messages everywhere that December. There were TV commercials that made me sob. I had to turn off anything with kids in it. Bright, young kids bursting with promise were the ones that tore most at my heart.

Even after she returned, although I could breathe a bit easier, I still feared for her life. She was still addicted, still beyond my ability to help.

And even today, years after she became sober and we began to repair our relationship and the broken trust between us, flashbacks can hit me. Christmas can still turn dark in an instant, and nightmares can take me back to those days of hopelessness.

A friend whose son died of a drug overdose has shared a few similar things with me. She too says that, although many years have passed, the pain and grief can still come at unpredictable moments, so strong and fresh that, wherever she is, she has to leave and go home to recover.

Knowing the pain of loss as I do, I wonder sometimes how any parent can bear the agony, sorrow, and guilt – my feelings of loss were always jagged with my guilt – of losing a child to drugs. It’s those shards of guilt that can stab through the grief and spear us in the heart.

Even if you haven’t lost someone, you likely have feelings of sadness and remorse from your past that you haven’t dealt with fully. You may have lost not a person but a dream of the way life would be for you. You may even have lost your faith, trust, and sense of meaning. Take time to mourn those losses so that you can move on and find new purpose. Remind yourself that you’re part of the universe, part of the flow of life, which includes pain and loss as well as joy. Acknowledge the pain, but don’t let it drown the little everyday raptures and beauty around you. Here are some keys and practices to help you find this balance.

THE KEYS:

1.         In addition to mourning your loss, you must face the guilt you feel for being (in your mind, perhaps even in your unconscious) complicit in that loss. You must learn to forgive yourself. A friend of mine, whose feelings of guilt threatened to capsize her, told me what she learned during this nearly unbearable period in her life:

“During those months I think I cried more than I’d ever cried before. I also scrawled incessantly in my journal, castigating myself for what I’d done, grieving for what I’d lost. I didn’t think there would ever be an end to my tears, my guilt, or my grief.

“Then, a few months later, I heard about a self-forgiveness workshop and signed up. It took place over a weekend that summer, and I think it may have saved my life.

“The workshop taught me to do two things that helped heal me. First, I limited the time I spent writing about what was bothering me. I wrote on a hurtful subject for only 15 minutes and then put my journal away. A few hours later, I reread what I’d written and reframed it by thinking of other ways to say the same things that were kinder toward myself.

“The second thing I learned was to look in the mirror, directly into my eyes, and tell myself I was a worthy person and that I loved myself just the way I was. When we were first “forced” to do this in the workshop, I thought, ‘Oh, God, no.’ But it turned out to be a moving thing to do. It did help me forgive myself.”

2.         Create new rituals to replace those of the past. After that awful Christmas when my daughter was gone, I knew I had to redefine Christmas if I was ever to live through that holiday again. Many of the things that had meant Christmas to me were now too painful. I gave up the Christmas tree, the decorations, the big dinner with the cranberry sauce, the gravy, the dates stuffed with walnuts and sprinkled with confectioners’ sugar. Instead, my husband and I began spending our Christmases at the movies. It felt almost sacrilegious the first time we did it, but also very freeing. I could start seeing it as just another day, not one fraught with meaning.

3.         Be prepared for feelings of grief, anguish, and guilt to come unannounced. Learn some tactics to snap yourself out of that deluge of emotions. This isn’t to say that you shouldn’t feel your feelings, but when they overwhelm you or come at a time that feels inappropriate to you – in a meeting, at work, in a crowd – you need a go-to method that will put you back in control. When this happens to me, I go immediately to square breathing (Breathe in for four counts, hold for four, breathe out for four counts, hold for four. Repeat.) Or wear rubber bands as bracelets so you can snap them against your wrist to “snap” yourself out of such episodes.

ACTIONS TO PRACTICE:

1.         Incorporate pockets of rest throughout your day. Take five minutes between activities to sit or lie down, breathe deeply, and regenerate. If a thought enters your mind, label it “Thought” and let it drift away. Focus on the here-and-now, the feel of your body against the chair, floor, bed, or wherever you are.

2.         Eat something you love.  Eat it slowly, mindfully, with total attention. Concentrate on nothing but the food and its color, flavor, aroma, texture, and beauty.

3.         Instead of ruminating about things you can’t change, contemplate things you can do something about. Decide on small, realistic steps you can take to move toward the life you want to live.

4.         Practice some of the tactics mentioned in “The Keys” above to help you heal. For example, try using a timer to limit the amount of time you spend crying, writing about painful things, or worrying. When the timer goes off, move on to something practical and positive. Also check out the exercises in my earlier blog posts, “Remaking Your Life” and “Holding On, Letting Go: Like Ash on Water,” which are all about coping with grief (scroll down and you will find the earlier blog posts). For still more exercises, take a look at WAKING UP HAPPY, www.WakingUpHappy.co.

Please contact me with your own stories, strategies, insights, and any questions you may have, as well as an answer to this question, if you’d like to reflect on it and send me your answer: What tactics have you found most helpful to deal with the pain of life?