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Expertise I Did Not Want

Posted on: March 10, 2020 | Posted by: Emma Pearson

Photo by Tim Marshall on Unsplash

It is dawning on me that I am an expert in Grief. My own, for sure. But increasingly, that of some others, too. Not in terms of what they are experiencing, and how it feels inside of them. No, never that. But in terms of being able to help them:

  • Differentiate pain from suffering
  • Understand why much grief-support language feels like a slap in the face
  • Articulate why they feel like they live in a parallel universe (1Q84 comes to mind)
  • Be okay with not planning further than half a day ahead, if that
  • Always have an escape route for social engagements involving a group (i.e., two or more people; including self)
  • Feel okay about not wanting to live – at least till the pain wears off

I don’t know if it’s the numbers of deaths I’ve had…
I don’t know if it’s the rapid-fire sequence of deaths I’ve experienced…
I don’t know if it’s the type of illnesses I’ve sat alongside…
I don’t know if it’s the number of deaths and funerals I’ve prepared…

I do know that it’s because I am still breathing…
Still.
And walking the dog, swimming and cross-country skiing…
Cooking (often) and eating and drinking. Mostly moderately. Mostly. (Mike’s dad, Bruce, liked to say, “Everything in moderation”. Mike liked to say, “Everything in moderation. Including moderation”).
Playing piano well enough and saxophone passably. Still no cello.
And even working and being paid for it.

There is much I still feel I cannot do.
Such as concentrate. E.g., on a book, particularly a professional one. Novels over 300 pages in length daunt me. I read so infrequently that I lose the plot. And anyway, I might be dead before I finish it if it’s too long.
I cannot find the focus or energy to finish up the requirements for my Diploma in Systemic Team Coaching, started when my brother Ed was first diagnosed with Glioblastoma, in 2013.
I couldn’t do a full-on, five-day client week to save my life.
I wouldn’t mind a corporate salary and benefits, but I know my level of functioning doesn’t warrant one. Freelancing is still the honest route. I am grateful to have that option.

This hard-earned expertise doesn’t have a place on my CV or LinkedIn.
My new expertise doesn’t command an increase in daily fees.
On the contrary, if I am not careful, my new talents pull me further away from the world of being paid for what I do.

But I use this expertise so often.
Compiling lists of resources for newly bereaved people.
Widows. Widowers. Parents. Siblings.
Giving my details to someone who knows someone who has just lost their spouse. Or child. Or a Sibling. Even though I know they will never call. People just don’t. They just have to figure it out for themselves.
I should just copy and paste, but I never do. I craft it for each new person based on my ever-evolving learnings.
Checking in on my widbuds. It’s mutual support, for sure, but it takes a lot of time.
Being at a child bereavement support group, and finding that I am probably giving more support than I am getting. It’s an Early Grief support group for Child Bereavement, and while I am definitely Early Grief for Julia (and will be for another few years), I have done Early Grief so many flipping times now, I kind of have a routine. Kind of. At least I know my patterns. I how to get help. I know how to talk to myself, and how not to talk to myself.

I know how to be okay with the pain. And okay with the joy.
And I can offer people up-to-date resources on Grief support that don’t have the hellish word “Stages” in it.

I am indeed an Expert in Grief.
A Grief Expert.

I wish it sounded more cool.
Like a “Sexpert” sounds cool.

Griefspert?
Bereftspert?
Sadspert?

I know…!
LifeSpert!
Life support.

Yes, I am one of those. An Expert in Life Support.
At least my own. And sometimes that of others too.

Perhaps that will make it onto my CV.
Expertise I didn’t want.
Expertise and credentials that I wish were not so harshly earned.
Expertise that doesn’t give me new letters after my name.
Expertise that does not come from courses.

Just from life. Living.
Going on with life after death. After deaths.
Choosing to live and breathe when myriad loved ones have died.

A LifeSpert.
It’s expertise I am glad I have.
I’d have gone under without my LifeSpert.

Categories: Uncategorized

Emma Pearson

About Emma Pearson

My life is a whirling mix of swishy strands, dark and glowing brightly, rough and silky smooth – all attempting to be seen, felt and integrated at once. Here are some of my themes.

I am British and now recently also French (because of Brexit), and I have lived in France for the past 21 years. I am 53 and sometimes feel to be an “older widow”, and yet I feel so young. I lost my best male friend Don to bowel cancer in September 2015, my brother Edward to glioblastoma in January 2016, my husband Mike to pancreatic cancer in April 2017, and my sweet youngest child, Julia, to grief-related suicide, in July 2019. And I met a new love (let’s call him Medjool, after my favourite kind of date), off one single meeting on a dating website. Our relationship has exploded into blossom as of June 2019.

I am widowed and I am in a new relationship. I have lost a best friend, a sweet brother, a beloved husband and a precious child, and I still have both parents who are alive and well. I live my days with my grief wrapped in love and my love wrapped in grief. I no longer even try to make sense of anything. I just hope to keep on loving and living for as long as I can, while grieving the losses of loves that are no longer breathing by my side.

I suspect my writing here will be a complex mish-mash of love and sorrow. I also write on http://www.widowingemptynests.com/.

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