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December 19,
2009 |
December Special
edition |
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SPECIAL
Uh-0h, It’s That
Time Again! by Russell Friedman
& John W. James The holidays are approaching. A joyous
time. A festive time. A time when families and friends celebrate the
passage of another year and the coming of a new year.
But not everyone will feel like
celebrating. If this is the first year since the
death of a loved one or a divorce, the holidays may be difficult. Since
time does not heal emotional wounds, subsequent holiday times may be
painful and awkward for you. Even surrounded by family and friends, you
may feel isolated, alone, and as if no one
understands. As we move toward Thanksgiving,
Christmas, Chanukah and New Year‘s Day, again this year, we will also be
reminded of the great losses suffered on September 11, 2001. Even those of
us not directly affected by the attacks, likely will feel some of that
overwhelming sadness. How grief
feels Grief is the normal and natural
reaction to loss. It is marked by conflicting emotions that result from
the change in a familiar pattern of behavior. But from the standpoint of
the grieving person, this is how grief may
feel: Grief is the
feeling of reaching out for someone who has always been there, only to
find when we need them one more time, they are no longer
there. Adapting to the absence of a loved one
is difficult enough. But, the first holiday season, with its constant
reminders of holiday joy and tradition, can be especially painful. At the
Grief Recovery Institute we’ve talked with thousands of people who’ve told
us they wished they could jump from late October right to mid-January.
We’ve heard the same sentiment from people enduring their first holiday
season following a divorce. It’s normal to worry that you won’t be
able to handle the pain of that first holiday season, whether the missing
loved one is a spouse, parent, grandparent, sibling or child. You may even
think you’d rather skip holiday gatherings. Those feelings and fears are
not illogical or irrational. They represent a normal, healthy range of
emotions about painful loss and our society’s limited ability to talk
openly and honestly about grief. A taboo
subject We all experience losses and we all
grieve. Yet, grief is one of the most off-limits topics for discussion in
our society. It seems strange that one of the experiences we are all going
to have, is the one experience we are ill-prepared for and ill-equipped to
talk about. Even more troubling is all the misinformation passed on about
grief. We have been taught to believe that
"Time heals all wounds." So people will say, "It just takes time." The
griever assumes the advice to be correct, and waits while time goes by.
But time is neutral and does nothing but
pass. People also say, "You have to be
strong for the children" [or other family members]. So we pass that on to
the griever, who dutifully acts strong for the kids, while burying their
own feelings deeper and deeper. We have been socialized to believe
that intellectual remarks will help with emotional conflict. So others
say, "Don’t feel bad, he led such a full life." Maybe he did. But the
griever is in emotional turmoil, and that comment, which may be
intellectually accurate is not emotionally
helpful. "Recovery from loss is achieved by a
series of small and correct choices made by the griever," and none of the
pat remarks identified above help the griever take those correct and
necessary steps. Rather, the griever is led down a path that leads to more
isolation and loneliness. What grievers
want Several years ago we conducted a
survey that asked: "What is the best way to act around someone who has
just experienced the death of a loved one?" From the multiple choice
answers, 98 percent of the respondents chose: "Act as if nothing had
happened." We also surveyed those who had
experienced the death of a loved in the past five years. We asked them:
"In the weeks and months immediately following the death of your loved
one, what did you most want and need to do?" Ninety-four percent
responded: "Talk about what
happened and my
relationship with the person who
died." This holiday season, there will be
plenty of hurting people who, given the opportunity, will want to talk
about someone they miss. You will be a most cherished friend or family
member if the grieving person feels safe enough to talk to you about what
is so foremost on his mind and in his heart. If the person doesn’t want to
talk about it, don’t be offended. A safe
start At the very least, we suggest that you
to bring up the topic, and allow them to decide if they want to talk about
it. If you’re thinking that it is an awkward question and you don’t know
how to ask it, we agree with you. So, here’s a simple phrase which allows
the griever to respond or not as they see fit, but is not an interrogation
or a command that they must talk about the loss. "I heard about the death
in your family...I can’t imagine what this has been like for
you." If you look at that phrase you’ll
notice that it is actually a statement, but the use of the word "imagine’
invites an answer without ever asking a probing question. Interestingly,
over the years, we have found the word "imagine" to be the single most
open-ended emotional word in the English language. It implies that
whatever the griever says will be acceptable. It implies that whatever the
griever says will not be judged or criticized. Those are very important
safeguards for the griever, who is hyper-aware of any comments or
questions which imply that he is wrong or defective for having the
emotions associated with loss. Just use your own memory and
experience to recall how important it was to feel safe when your heart had
been affected by a painful loss. Many of you may remember having felt hurt
by people who were really very close to you, when they said things that
didn’t feel right, or equally, when they avoided the topic, and left you
feeling very confused. If a friend gets a new sports car, we
wouldn’t dream of not asking all about it. We know they really want to
tell us all about it. We must adopt a parallel notion when something sad
or upsetting has happened. We know, in many cases, they really want to
talk about it. If people don’t feel safe to talk,
they may find other ways to soothe themselves. That could include alcohol,
drugs and food - something in plentiful supply at holiday time, and which
may have negative or disastrous consequences. Take a
chance Communication has its risks. Bringing
up a loss - yours or someone else’s - may not be welcomed. Good taste and
timing are important. For instance, we’re not suggesting that just as
Grandpa starts to carve the turkey, you blurt out, "How have you been
since Grandma died?" However, from personal experience, we
can tell you that it would not make any sense not to mention someone very important
to us. Russell’s personal story illustrates this idea: "My mother died ten
years ago on the day before Thanksgiving, and that holiday hasn‘t been the
same for me since. But I always take the opportunity to toast my Mom and
say how much I miss her. Invariably, the others at the table start talking
about people they miss. The stories and the memories they evoke are filled
with laughter and tears." The ability to communicate our
emotions openly and clearly, happy or sad, is one of the distinguishing
characteristics of being human. It is less human to exclude from
discussion those people so important in our past.
Being afraid of sad feelings can
deprive us of the treasure trove of memories attached to relationships
with people who have died. Overcoming this fear, especially at holiday
time, allows us to claim the full memory of the person we’re missing.
People are surprised to discover that even though there may be some
sadness, there may be plenty of joy as well. © 2002 Russell P.
Friedman, John W. James and The Grief Recovery Institute. Another article found about
holidays: The Here it comes
again — the Holiday Army — in its annual march against us. Some of its
generals are called "Thanksgiving," "Christmas," "Hanukah," "New Year’s
Eve" and "New Year’s Day." They are no respecters of the heartbroken and
emotionally wounded, and their troops are merciless. They take no
prisoners! They demand that we participate in their joy and nostalgia or
they will mow us down with their militant tanks of holiday spirit.
Sometimes they
declare their war on us openly — without shame or remorse. Sometimes, they
wait for us in ambush. Their intelligence operators have been working
diligently all year, waiting for the Thanksgiving Day (or sometimes
Halloween!) trumpet signal to begin their attack. They just don’t seem
satisfied to have their celebrations and parties and dinners and
festivities unless they can recruit ALL of us into their ranks.
Actually, we
wish them well. All we really want is for them to leave us alone and let
us mourn in peace and quiet. We prefer our “Silent Nights” to their “Deck
the Halls” and Jingle Bells.” We don’t intentionally spoil their fun, it’s
just that our pain makes them uncomfortable. They’ve been conditioned to
believe that “The Holiday Season” should have no blemish of suffering or
lack of frivolity. We must not only bandage our wounds while in their
presence, but cover them with taffeta and sequins besides. They are
convinced that all we need is to “put on a happy face” and all our sorrows
will magically evaporate. In their mad
pursuit of happiness, they shoot us with the bullets of shopping, piped-in
music, special holiday foods and fragrances, gift wrapping, decorations
(especially the angels!), joyous children with happy smiles, cards,
invitations, parties and gift exchanges. Any other time of the year, snow
is considered a nuisance to shovel and plow through. At the holiday
season, though, it is touted as romantic and is linked to sleighs and
starry nights in front of fireplaces, snuggled close to those we love.
The most
devastating bombs they drop into our lives are the images of reunion —
times of greeting and hugging folks who are much loved and sometimes not
often seen for awhile. They may only be separated by geography; our absent
loved ones cannot cross the chasm of loss that looms before our
tear-filled eyes. They remind us of things we should be thankful for (and
we are more thankful for many of those things than they can ever imagine).
They prod us with their spears of delightful togetherness, never realizing
that what they celebrate is what we cannot now enjoy. We would not dream
of attacking them in these battles for holiday survival. With our noses
pressed against the glass that divides us, we actually long to be able to
be part of their happiness. We remember the times we joined in their fun
and we, too, were part of their army of nostalgia and joy.
Our broken
hearts and bleeding wounds do not excuse us from being gracious, however.
While grief does not give us permission to be rude and selfish, and we
take no overt action against their aggression, we are not without defenses
in these battles. We can shield ourselves with the armor of dignity with
kind but direct and simple explanations: “We understand your need for
celebration, but this year we prefer quiet and private reflection and
meditation.” “Right now it’s hard for us to function in large groups and
to appreciate laughter and high spirits.” “Our energy is so limited; we’d
appreciate some quiet one-on-one time with you in a more spiritual
atmosphere.” We can gently remind them of how important it is for us to
remember those we love who are gone. These are statements that clarify our
position without judging or criticizing them for theirs. In kind and
non-threatening ways, we need to tell them what’s good for us, because
they won’t think of it on their own, and they can use the education.
We also can
exercise the muscles of our sense of humor. It will take some effort on
our part, but so does anything that is worthwhile and good for us. We can
teach ourselves not to fall into the trap of thinking that our grief makes
us the center of the universe. We can limit our demands that others treat
us in “special” and “deferential” ways because of our pain. We can cut
them a little slack and remember that once upon a time, we were just like
they are now. It’s good and healthy for us to review our perspectives now
and then and decide if we’re being fair and reasonable.
We can express
our love in simple and unhurried ways without all the frenetic, expensive
and often hysterical hype that the holidays can generate. And we must
exercise the expression of our love. Grief does not rob us of our ability
to love; it reminds us ever more dramatically of our need to both give and
receive love while we are here. Whenever we can
take some control in our situations, we empower ourselves, and then we
feel less like victims in what seems like a war of “peace on earth,
goodwill toward men.” Anytime we can educate and inform with mercy and
compassion, we have given a truly spiritual holiday gift of love that will
keep on giving forever. May your season
be filled with genuine blessings of peace.
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