Good (Almost) Afternoon GIC "Family..."

Lou, I’m glad you pushed through the rain and enjoyed Labor Day. The rain was just north of us. I had 3 days of beautiful weather, I thought of you on Saturday, my daughter bought me lunch at a restaurant on the shore and we watched boats and ferries come and go and listened to live bands play. Today I’m getting rain. Robin

 

Thanks for thinking of me, Robin. Although
summer is my favorite, I plan to enjoy
the fall. When my town is desolate, I'll
take the train to a larger city, for more
restaurants & places to walk. Same with
winter, if possible. Lou

 

Thank you for your kind words Robin, we just can't understand what happened and unable to talk about it, it's so heartbreaking.

Glad to hear you spent a pleasant birthday weekend at the beach with your daughter. What a splendid sight it must have been seeing those dolphins and a whale too! I went for a day out too, (my first...) with my daughter, to visit an art gallery.
Travelling by bus felt so strange, I was nearly in tears, it was the first time in thirty years, as my C would always take us by car on day trips and family holidays. I just had him on my mind the whole time, couldn't believe I was there without him, half of me wasn't present, but we did have a lovely relaxing day together.
Take care.
Rose

 

Of course Rose, you and your family are in my prayers. Seeing the whale was so amazing. It stayed in front of us a long time. Magnificent is the best way to describe it. We see dolphins often and seals once in a while. Never have seen a whale. Everyone on the beach was in awe! My daughter said it was a birthday miracle! She didn’t know I had asked Ron for a sign, I asked him for a big sign so I know he’s with me. Was that Ron letting me know, I’m not sure. But it was huge!
I’m happy you got out and visited an art gallery. Believe me, I know it’s hard. But I’m glad you had a relaxing day with your daughter. Even though it was very emotional. I can tell you that it does get easier over time. C, will always be on your mind and in your heart and there will be tears but you will get stronger over time. My brother is taking my out for a birthday lunch tomorrow. I love him for caring and taking me but Ron should be with me. It will be nice I’m sure. Going to a restaurant over looking the water.
Praying for your peace. Robin

 

Happy Belated Birthday, Robin! I do
believe the whale was a birthday sign
from Ron. Most of TGW, like Gary &
myself , get signs from butterflies, or
birds. Your sign is bigger than life! Lou

 

Thank you Lou! I’m thinking it could be a sign. My signs are usually butterflies and birds too. Both have special memories attached. Ron has left pieces of snaps around our bedroom too. We used them in our shop daily. I’m glad you get those signs from Linda. They are so meaningful. Ron tells me things too. Hope you’re having a good day. I’m thinking you’re still having rain. Robin.

 

Hi Robin and Lou, we finally have our normal Summer back again, after a whole month of unusually cooler weather, daily rain storms, and so violent too,and long-lasting. This morning I did another 'first', went for a long walk in my nearby town, felt so strange of course, all alone, when I used to go with my C, arm in arm together. I found it somehow comforting though, because I felt that he was with me anyway, I wasn't alone, I spoke to him the whole time (in my mind of course, otherwise I would have got strange looks!). I know what you mean about those signs, I sometimes think that our lost loved ones must be out there somewhere in some form, they can't just disappear into thin air. I am a Catholic but I've never really been a church-goer or a real believer of spiritualism. I actually just ignored and avoided those sort of discussions, now I constantly find myself asking my darling the same question, over and over again: "Where are you? Can you see me? Can you hear me?"
Happy belated birthday from me too, Robin.
Wishing you all a pleasant day.
Rose

 

TO THE GRIEVING WARRIORS

It took me a while to figure out why I couldn't see any activity in GIC threads, then I thought everybody it's too quiet maybe because of the beautiful summer that everybody was enjoying ... I took a few weeks to find myself without my family influencing my decisions for my healing and going forward ... a few days ago I started sharing a few quotes and I will continue as you all help me in my early grieving days which I'll never forget!

I am not thriving. I'm not my "best self". I'm not gaining traction on my goals or moving in a continuous upward trajectory. I'm not earning more than ever, or "glowing", or the most successfull /in shape /happy I've ever been. I'm looking forward to the next season where those things feel true, but right now they just aren't. I imagine there are lots of you who might relate - who might not be thriving right now, whatever that means.

I've realized the problem isn't that I'm not thriving, thought; the problem is when I at times believe I'm supposed to be thriving - that if I'm not thriving something must be off. I must be behind. I must not be doing enough. We create so much more pain for ourselves when we assume we're falling short of our own impossible expectations - for not being able to thrive 100% of the time, no matter what.
And part of what creates this problem is the society we live in - not ourselves. The society we live in associates thriving with capitalistic standards of success, with individualist models of growth, and with ideas about humanity that go against our natural rhythms, our nature, our ebbs and flows.

In actuality, it makes sense to not to be thriving and healing in the first year of grieving, as my body and brain adjust in a massive way. It makes sense to not be thriving in the middle in an ongoing pandemic (no matter how beyond it our world is). If makes sense not to be thriving in my least favorite season (sorry, summer lovers). It makes sense to not be thriving in the middle of a deep identity shift, a complete metamorphosist, an integration of what feels like a whole new life ALONE. It makes sense to not be thriving while the world around us is holding so much tension, so much chaos, so much challenge. Having seasons of not thriving isn't a personal failure. It's a part of being human in a world that isn't set up for our continual thriving.
We are quick to morph everything into a individual flaw in need of fixing - to turn what is natural and understandable into something wrong with us - to internalize what is out of our control by desperately trying to force and control everything about ourselves and our personal lives.

I wonder, though if allowing ourselves not thrive is actually what thriving is. I wonder if thriving isn't about being our best selves of living our best lives, and is more about embracing our full selves, which inevitable includes the arts that are just barely trudging along I wonder if meeting ourselves in the trudging is thriving. If trusting our off-kilter path is thriving. If letting the tears fall is thriving If letting the grief out of our throat is thriving. I wonder if thriving means allowing our humanity to exist, always, no matter what.

When I really think about it, I'm also thriving by the typical standard of the word in a lot of ways. I'm embracing space and change, new ways of being and seeing. I'm collecting a whole lot of joy and childlike wonder along the way. I'm getting visions for new offering and feeling the weightlessness of having separation from my identity. I'm connecting to nature and creating a nourishing home and enjoying quality time with my myself and a few people I know and love. I could go on.
I share this because in our society, we often default to black and white, either/or, all or nothing thinking. We assume if something in our lives is hard, everything must be hard. We assume if we're struggling in some ways, we must be struggling entirely. We assume if we're having a slower, more grief-filled season, our whole life must be small and filled with grief. This is why allowing not-thriving seasons is important; it breaks up this binary way of seeing ourselves and the world. It makes room for all parts of us to exist and take up space. And, it allows us to know we aren't just one thing, which becomes and anchor when we need to remember the part of us that are doing great.

Can seasons of dormancy, even when they last longer that we want them to, be valuable, too? Can phases of life that contain less, that are smaller, that feel more like a push than an expansion, be part of us instead of something to try and elevate out of? Can chapter of our story that are boring, that are missing something, that are unsure of grief-filed - can those chapter be part of the whole instead of something to try and erase" Can phases of not thriving be a path toward deeper alignment with our true selves instead of something to try and bypass?
These are questions I'm exploring in my own life recently, during this season of things looking vastly different than I'm told they should. An it has given me so much more capacity to have compassion for this season I'm in - to hold myself with grace and kindness - to practice giving myself permission to not be somewhere else, in someone else's life, but to be present in the not-quite-thriving reality of my own And I've learned a lot from allowing this season to what it is, perhaps for the first time.

Thanks for reading and listening, today I wrote a book almost as much as Deb ... LOL.


Helena

 

WOW, Helena, just as I was thinking that
your philosophical musings were like a
"book"from Deb, you beat me to it! Yes,
my view of summer is different from
yours, bc it's my favorite season, bc of the
lively mix of locals & tourists. But, I'm
determined not to be lonely & depressed
in the fall/ winter, when my small town
becomes deserted after Halloween. I plan
to take a train to a larger city, with more
restaurants, and places to walk. What
jumped out of your "book" was your
reference to "childlike wonder". I try to
tap into the awe I had as a boy, looking
at the timeless ocean waves. Welcome
back to Wed Art Therapy. We are all
praying for George's return. Lou

 

Two WOWS Helena, one from me too. You really got me thinking, everything you say is so true. Well done, you are so good with writing down thoughts, it's a joy to read them, and comforting. I used to love Summer, not anymore, too many memories, too painful. Like I said in another post, I think this unusually rainy month of August we have just had here was influenced by my mood. I've been particularly quiet too, unfortunately not because I'm enjoying the holiday season, it's the other way round, feeling worse than ever, not thriving at all.
Sorry Lou, didn't mean to put a 'damper' on your very cheerful post, I love your fighting spirit and determination. BRAVO, BRAVISSIMO.
Rose.

 

Rose, don't worry about putting a
"damper" on my post. The fact is that I
have my ups & downs, but am more
cheerful on sunny days, than very
cloudy , or rainy ones. I still sometimes
cry about Linda in the morning, but
listen to songs on my Smart Phone, to get
me out the door. Smiled at BRAVISSIMO.
I'll try not to sing opera, loudly, as I walk
down Main St. today. Lou

 

I understand the feeling of having places in my life where I simply survive. I try not to judge that, letting uncomfortable feelings be ok kinda gives me the ok to feel other things too. Things like joy, humor, dogs, gardens, hope. Places where I thrive might be a stretch still, but I’m certainly letting everything move. Living out loud, in motion, with Lots of time for the quiet survival moments. And grace, lots of grace for myself. Some days I choose what’s easy and let the rest go undone. I’ve also adopted a pretty detached view of anyone outside my sphere of influence. I just let the others be themselves and carry on. Takes too much energy and I need it other places.
Thank you for sharing your thoughts, Helena.
~B

 

Bravo Helena. That was the grand slam post that has stirred the soul of every sleepy grief warrior. I don’t like to suffer. But there is value in suffering. I don’t know where it is written but suffering can create perseverance and perservance improves character. A friend lost both parents while waiting for a liver transplant as his wife suffered a heart attack. I called him weekly to offer support. I asked him how he was able to survive this calamity? His reply was that he always wanted to know the true meaning of life. He was referring to birth, suffering, and death. He ended up having a successful transplant and his wife recovered too. About 5 years later our friendship dissolved over requests to borrow money after he became a compulsive gambler. Suffering keeps us searching for meaning and matures us. It really sucks but has value. I had several conversations with my beloved Cheerful Cheryl lately. While I was returning from town today I looked up at the sky and said is that you Cheryl? Are you really with me? Suddenly the shadow of a large bird was on the road heading right for me. I know you are gone from this world forever but it is very comforting to know our relationship goes forward. Gary

 

Gary, your sign from Cheryl is moving, as
always. It's so good to have you welcoming
back Helena. I hope Deb will join us
again, with one of her trademark " books".
Brother Lou

 

Rose I’m so happy you were able to talk a nice long walk. Those things we always did with our spouses are so much harder by ourselves. But committing and doing some of those things although very emotional can leave us feeling better and like we’ve accomplished something. I’m a firm believer that our loved ones are around us and caring for us. What you felt during your walk I feel was C being there beside you. Thank you for the birthday wishes. Today my. brother took me out for a very nice lunch. We went to a restaurant on the bay and had such a nice afternoon. Across the inlet we watched a deer with huge antlers grazing. So peaceful! Today was a good day. Rose I believe your C, does see and hear you. Robin

 

Gary, a strange thing happened to me just
now. I was sitting on a sunny bench,
looking at the boats in the harbor. A lone
duck swam toward me. I was astonished
when ahe hopped onshore & bravely
stood in front of me. We stared at each
other ( no one else around). In my mind, I
think the duck expected me to feed her.
Suddenly, I had to wipe away tears. and
said quietly. "If you're Linda, I love you",
and cried. Then, I told the duck to fly away
& she did.... , Lou

 

HI Robin, happy to hear you enjoyed your lunch with your son. You do deserve to have some calm peaceful days. We are all so overcome with our losses, it's like a never-ending battle, trying to stay afloat, and not sinking.
I am always so amazed at the wonderful animals you get to see, whales, dolphins, deer, and many others you've mentioned. As I think I have said before, we unfortunately only get to see those horrid boars, invading all our lands, all over the country.
This morning I accompanied my son for his visit to a lab/ bloodtest centre (my husband's profession) and we chose, like last year, to go to my C's 'favourite colleague'. I wouldn't go anywhere else, my C was particularly fond of him and as we were leaving, he just couldn't hold back the tears saying to me that he understood that my C would have wanted us to go to his lab and not others. Obviously, I nearly broke down, just said goodbye and nodded, looking at each other with an expression that we both knew meant that no more words were necessary. He could feel my grief and I could feel how moved he was.

Take care Robin,always nice talking to you.
Rose.

 

Lou, what can I say, absolutely BEAUTIFUL!

 

Thank you, Rose.If it had been a
seagull,I would've shooed it away.
Linda & I found ducks to be quiet
and peaceful, as they glided on the
water. Lou

 

Lou, these lovely wooden ducks have been sitting in our lounge since we got married, one of the ornaments my C had chosen, he has a special fondness for these dear creatures.