I have been pondering comfort, self-care, and help – what each of them is, to me, and what makes one or other easier and/or more accessible than another. Here is where I am at. And no, I have done no Googling or other research into what each of them is. Just research in my own life and experience. They are oft-used terms in Griefland – wobbly…
therapy
My Annual Milestone
We lost my wife about a month after my daughter’s second birthday and I was so distraught in the early days that I was having panic attacks. The thought of being a single father was incredibly terrifying, how am I going to raise a little girl on my own?! Luckily, psychotherapy and a detailed wellness plan have helped me leave those feelings…
I (Still) Go To Therapy
When Mike first died, everyone asked me if I was going to therapy. When I said that I was it was somehow a relief to them. “Good for you,” they’d say. I didn’t get it. I was so fresh into it that I mostly just sat there and cried at my sessions. I mean, it was good to cry and talk and hear an outsider’s perspective but it was still very…
A Mindful Conversation
It’s been far too long since I felt the sting of an icy wind hitting my face. Months have passed since I lazily stared into a campfire of my own creation, with nobody but my own self to discuss it with. I haven’t dunked into a mountain creek after a long march, and I haven’t been woken up by annoying crows, rather than an annoying alarm…
Upon This, I do Insist~
I wonder, frequently, when grief changed from a normal, human response to the death of a loved one, to a condition that, seemingly, must be gotten through (with all due speed, thank you very much for your consideration), with clinical protocols assigned to it? When did grief get designated as complicated and unhealthy and uncomfortable and…
This Carrying~
A dear friend and Air Force widow sister said to me last weekend, in response to my endless questions to her about this grief (she’s 6 years out), and time frames and, oh, you know, everything…she said this to me, and I’ve reflected on it in the days since. It isn’t that it goes away. We just get stronger, and we carry it differently.Such…
The Good, Bad, Ugly, and Everything in Between~
This is a list. Not a gratitude list necessarily, but a list that does include some good shit, nonetheless. And sometimes it’s easier to write in list form than prose form. This past weekend I had a massive, huge, meltdown/purge/nervous breakdown. Included were earthquake size shakes throughout my body, shallow breathing, sobbing, gut-wrenching…
The Pulse Beat of Love Over Everything Else~
I have to remind myself, as many of us do, I expect, that this widowhood is, as I learned in AA, a matter of progress, not perfection. Because I, for one, consistently seem to expect more of myself than is realistic. By which I mean, I continually scan my body and mind and heart to see where I am in this grief and why I’m not further along, even…
This Seemingly Never-ending Road~
Is it just me? I wonder, even as I know it isn’t just me. Logically and because I literally know otherwise, it isn’t just me. There’s a boat load of men and women through time immemorial who have lived this shit that I’m living, that we’re all living. And yet, my brain doesn’t let up about it.Why are you still so traumatized, Alison?…
The Lovely Dance of Grief~
Tuesdays used to be only about writing my WV blog. Now they’re also about my EMDR sessions, so please bear with me as my brain and heart work overtime.Who knew that guilt could beat so strongly in me? Me, who loved my husband Chuck dearly, me who showed that love to him continually? He knew I loved him and told me frequently how much that…
What A Man Is
I am a strong and fiercely independent woman. I always have been. When I was 18 years old, in 1990, I left my comfy small town of Groton, Massachusetts, to attend college and live in NYC. I wanted to be a performer, actor, comedian, writer, or anything that got me out of that boring and predictable suburban life. I wanted more. So I went out on my…
New Life, Old Life
If I’m being 100% honest, which I always am in my writing about loss, there are actually two of me. Version One of me was born on September 26, 1971, and she died on July 13, 2011. Version Two of me was born on the same day, within seconds even, of version one’s tragic death. Version One never saw it coming. A massive heart-attack took her husband…