This is one of those massively diverse human experiences for which there is no simple quick solution anyone can offer to help make it better...loss sucks..it's painful and often difficult to come to terms with..period!
Obvously there are all sorts of losses...from loved ones to buttons! Some more profoundly life impacting than others...but this is entirely subjective. Even the littlest thing, if lost, because of our 'attachment' to it...the relationships, and memories that it connects us to, and the significance of these 'structures' within our psychi...can indeed have a major impact on our sense of self and wellbeing.
My experience today, losing my Gran's vintage silk scarf, given that she herself was only lost to me a little over a year ago...was nothing short of mildly traumatic....it had all the hallmarks of a very bad experince, depite the apparent insignificance of such an ordinary object.
As I said my Grandmother passed away, a year ago or so and I miss her dreadfully....so much more now than when I was living away in the States...knowing I can't see her, ever perhaps again is almost too awful a prospect for my poor self to hold so I skirt around it and keep her with me by wearing something of hers sometimes....it's ok, she was a very cool lady with classic great taste! Thought I should say that before you imagine me shuffling about in traditional Granny garb and slippers. I'm talking vintage accessories and jewlery, some very lovely things...
I get whimsical about all the little things we laughed at, even imagine how she would say 'don't be daft' when I told her I walked up and down the high street searching in tears for the scarf, 'oh that old thing' she'd say, 'come here darling, give me a cuddle',
Comforting though these memories are they take a lot of energy to maintain...to consciously keep alive .... and sometimes it's just too painful to see them float away like a smoke the second you awaken from the day dream...this is the gut twisting irony of grief.
This agonising pain is the recurring paradox we face in coping with grief and maintaining our vital attachments. Keeping memories alive feels good, sometimes...but ultimately remind us of our loss. To cut ourselves off from the pain by putting our grief away, disocciating ourselves from it, can also be helpful...sometimes but we lose the good bits too.....and the memories always return, reality returns....so you see, grief is a tough cycle to be in and it goes round and round and round....only time seems to lessen it's impact. Time and lots of love and understanding.
There are times when I may need to put my pain aside or I risk losing myself to a tide of saddness...I decide whether this is the time for a cry or if I can hold it and put it away for a while.
I can't lock up my emotions in a box, it's not that simple for me. So what I do is I take out another of my boxes, the one with all my ribbons, and paints, and supplies in....my metaphorical treasure chest.
This is a very special box!! I've had it since I was a child. My Grandmother and I made it together, decorated it and filled it with all sorts of childish treasures, but mostly with love and imagination.
This is my resource for my painful times and from it I create my memorials. This is what I do with my grief pain...I memorialise my lost treasure in some way, give it a life beyond the moment it was lost in.
It's a process of honouring my memories and feelings, and transforming them into something else that can hold them for me safely and in a postive light. It maybe a picture, a quilt, a poem, a dream...some physical, some just as real to me and saved in my mind file.
In the case of the mysterious missing scarf I imagined the scarf, almost with a life of it's own, full of spirit like it's owner, floating of on the breeze without a care in the world, perhaps purposely, as my daughter said 'maybe it had gone to find GGrandma' ...I imagined the lady who found it, her smile as she recognised she had picked up a treasure...a gift. I imagined it would be something she would regard as lucky. A good day for her. I imagined it traveling around the world rather like a cat, visiting one person then another, giving each joy...until one day I find it again in an Oxfam shop, or caught in amidst some roses in the park, waiting for me.....there's a children's book in that for sure!! I can see the pics now!
I have a very visual brain and this is a perfectly natural thing for me to do, the images flow easily and the story tells itself. This maynot feel like something you can do and there are many other ways to make memorials to our experiences. I'll come back to this and share some more ideas later.
Children have remarkably open, creative imaginations...given a little room to think, and a box of treasures to draw from...anything is possible.
I believe we all know instinctively much more about caring for ourselves than we realise if only we can tap into it. Sometimes it takes a Grandmother....or a friend...or a therapist to help us find our own way....this what it means to care for each other.
Obvously there are all sorts of losses...from loved ones to buttons! Some more profoundly life impacting than others...but this is entirely subjective. Even the littlest thing, if lost, because of our 'attachment' to it...the relationships, and memories that it connects us to, and the significance of these 'structures' within our psychi...can indeed have a major impact on our sense of self and wellbeing.
My experience today, losing my Gran's vintage silk scarf, given that she herself was only lost to me a little over a year ago...was nothing short of mildly traumatic....it had all the hallmarks of a very bad experince, depite the apparent insignificance of such an ordinary object.
As I said my Grandmother passed away, a year ago or so and I miss her dreadfully....so much more now than when I was living away in the States...knowing I can't see her, ever perhaps again is almost too awful a prospect for my poor self to hold so I skirt around it and keep her with me by wearing something of hers sometimes....it's ok, she was a very cool lady with classic great taste! Thought I should say that before you imagine me shuffling about in traditional Granny garb and slippers. I'm talking vintage accessories and jewlery, some very lovely things...
I get whimsical about all the little things we laughed at, even imagine how she would say 'don't be daft' when I told her I walked up and down the high street searching in tears for the scarf, 'oh that old thing' she'd say, 'come here darling, give me a cuddle',
Comforting though these memories are they take a lot of energy to maintain...to consciously keep alive .... and sometimes it's just too painful to see them float away like a smoke the second you awaken from the day dream...this is the gut twisting irony of grief.
This agonising pain is the recurring paradox we face in coping with grief and maintaining our vital attachments. Keeping memories alive feels good, sometimes...but ultimately remind us of our loss. To cut ourselves off from the pain by putting our grief away, disocciating ourselves from it, can also be helpful...sometimes but we lose the good bits too.....and the memories always return, reality returns....so you see, grief is a tough cycle to be in and it goes round and round and round....only time seems to lessen it's impact. Time and lots of love and understanding.
There are times when I may need to put my pain aside or I risk losing myself to a tide of saddness...I decide whether this is the time for a cry or if I can hold it and put it away for a while.
I can't lock up my emotions in a box, it's not that simple for me. So what I do is I take out another of my boxes, the one with all my ribbons, and paints, and supplies in....my metaphorical treasure chest.
This is a very special box!! I've had it since I was a child. My Grandmother and I made it together, decorated it and filled it with all sorts of childish treasures, but mostly with love and imagination.
This is my resource for my painful times and from it I create my memorials. This is what I do with my grief pain...I memorialise my lost treasure in some way, give it a life beyond the moment it was lost in.
It's a process of honouring my memories and feelings, and transforming them into something else that can hold them for me safely and in a postive light. It maybe a picture, a quilt, a poem, a dream...some physical, some just as real to me and saved in my mind file.
In the case of the mysterious missing scarf I imagined the scarf, almost with a life of it's own, full of spirit like it's owner, floating of on the breeze without a care in the world, perhaps purposely, as my daughter said 'maybe it had gone to find GGrandma' ...I imagined the lady who found it, her smile as she recognised she had picked up a treasure...a gift. I imagined it would be something she would regard as lucky. A good day for her. I imagined it traveling around the world rather like a cat, visiting one person then another, giving each joy...until one day I find it again in an Oxfam shop, or caught in amidst some roses in the park, waiting for me.....there's a children's book in that for sure!! I can see the pics now!
I have a very visual brain and this is a perfectly natural thing for me to do, the images flow easily and the story tells itself. This maynot feel like something you can do and there are many other ways to make memorials to our experiences. I'll come back to this and share some more ideas later.
Children have remarkably open, creative imaginations...given a little room to think, and a box of treasures to draw from...anything is possible.
I believe we all know instinctively much more about caring for ourselves than we realise if only we can tap into it. Sometimes it takes a Grandmother....or a friend...or a therapist to help us find our own way....this what it means to care for each other.
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