Grief | OwningPink

Posts Tagged ‘grief’

How To Hold Space & Honor Loss

Friday, January 29th, 2010

Dan Aronie, our newest angel

Introducing Our Newest Angel
I’m wiping tears right now, Pinkies.
Pink Sage & Writing Genius Nancy Aronie’s dear son Dan died today. He was way too young, but after a long journey with multiple sclerosis, he has left this life for the next. When I heard the news, the floodgates opened, not just for Nancy’s loss, but for my own. Hearing her news brought me back two years, to the writing workshop I took with Nancy at Esalen Institute, where I met Pink Editor-in-Chief Joy, nearly a lifetime ago.

Holding Space For Loss
At the workshop, Nancy invited us to watch a documentary that was made about her son- his struggles, his path, how he overcame anger, resentment, and disability to find laughter, joy, and peace. I was hesitant to watch it. My own father had multiple sclerosis from a young age, and the wounds of losing him were still raw and bleeding. I wasn’t sure I could cope with what might come up if I witnessed Dan’s journey. But the amazing people in my workshop promised to hold me while we watched it together. One even went out and bought bottles of red wine so we could numb ourselves if necessary.

As Nancy prepared the DVD for viewing, the lovely beings in my class surrounded me with boxes of tissues and then guided me to the center of the room, where they huddled around me, touching me from all sides- a knee brushing mine, a head resting on my shoulder, an arm over my shoulder, a hand holding mine. Before Nancy pushed play, I started to cry, and the Posse of people gathered in closer. More hands touched me. I felt held.

As I watched Dan’s story, a story of loss, of disappointment, of dreams dashed, then of hope, triumph, healing, and the resilience of the human spirit, I cried. I felt deeply. I wept for the loss of my father, for Dan’s loss of physical strength, for Nancy’s loss of a healthy child. But I also cried with joy for the tenderness of the hands holding me, the feeling of safety that allowed me to sit among a group of people I had known for a mere three days, the beauty of true feelings expressed fully.

You Are Never Alone
By the time the movie was over, I felt fully embraced in the arms of those in that room- and I don’t think I was alone in feeling that way. Others cried. Other felt embraced. Dan invited all of us to experience loss with him, knowing we were safe in the arms of people we could trust. He guided us, showing us how much you can lose and still retain your spirit. He planted the seeds for what has become Owning Pink. He taught me what it means to be held, to be nurtured, to be cherished, to feel safe. Watching his movie that night taught me the value of community, the healing power of being held by those you can trust, the communal cleansing that happens when we live in love and feel the truth. Owning Pink began to gestate. Nancy and the people in her workshop taught how it’s possible to love people you don’t even know, when you open your heart fully. That group was the first Pink Posse.

(((((((((((((((Being Held))))))))))))))))))))))
A few months later, green shoots began to sprout from the fertile earth of that night. And almost exactly a year to the date later, Owning Pink was born. Very quickly, Pinkies flocked to the site like moths to flame. When Joy and I started Owning Pink, our mission statement was simple- “We want Owning Pink to invite people to go to that place of pain, knowing they are loved, safe, and nurtured.” Just like that night at Dan’s movie, I wanted people to feel empowered to face what hurts, while being held by many hands. The Pinkies quickly figured this out and started hugging each other with this symbol (((((((((((Pinkies)))))))))))))). Only today, Pink Goddess Dana pointed out that maybe this isn’t a hug, per se, as I had been thinking. Maybe it’s all those arms, just like the night of Dan’s movie, holding each Pinkie. I think she’s right. It’s about being held- fully, deeply, wholly.

Seeing Loss With Fresh Eyes
Just last night, I was at UCSF Medical School, taking Dr. Rachel Naomi Remen’s class “The Healer’s Art.” The subject of this week’s session was LOSS. Rachel reminded us that we are trained from early on to think that loss is bad, that LOSS=LOSER. But she says our losses do not diminish us. Loss is neutral. It’s the stories we tell ourselves- about life, love, other people, ourselves- that lead to suffering. Those stories expand or contract the quality of the lives we lead. She says that people rarely meet with loss in a genuine way- usually it’s “Let’s put this behind us and move on.” But loss is part of life. It’s a moment of truth, where we are invited to have a deeper knowledge of ourselves and others. She says the most common response to the loss of another person is to try to “fix” it, but fixing isn’t large enough for loss or for life. Rachel says, “Many things happen that are not fixable. But many things that can’t be fixed can still be healed. The goal in life is not to prevent loss but to meet loss in ways that are healing.”

I say, “Amen, sister.”

Reaching Out Without Trying to FIX Anything
And so, here I sit, grieving the loss of Dan, longing to ease Nancy’s pain, not quite sure what to say. And so I wrote her an email that read:

My heart is with you.
I hold you and sit silently with your loss.
Please know I am here for you- for anything.
Heaven just got really friggin’ lucky, love. Angels smiling everywhere.

What else can you say? But it turns out this is enough. It’s not our job to “fix” loss. Loss doesn’t need to be fixed. It just needs to be honored, to be held, to be witnessed with love, to be held with 16 hands in a circle and a box of Kleenex in between.

THIS IS WHAT WE DO
Do you see what I’m getting at, Pinkies? This is what we do. Joy just waxed poetic about this a few days ago, when a light bulb went off in her head and she suddenly realized that THIS IS WHAT WE DO. We just hold the space. We sit silently with each other’s stories. We hold each other.

What about you, Pinkies? How do you deal with loss? When you’ve suffered a loss, whether it’s the loss of a relationship, a dream, an object, your health, or a loved one, what have others done that helps you? What doesn’t help? How can we be more present for each other, to make this space even more healing? How can we be with loss, without trying to fix it?

Celebrating with the angels for Dan’s new life, and holding you (((((((((((((((((((((((Pinkies)))))))))))))))))))))))))))))
And especially you, ((((((((((((((((Nancy)))))))))))))))))))
Lissa

PS. To see Dan’s film, A Certain Kind of Beauty, the one I saw at Nancy’s workshop, click here.

For those who wish to honor Dan Aronie, the family asks that you donate to a foundation on Martha’s Vineyard that helped Dan.
If you’d like, send your donation to:
You’ve got a Friend Foundation
PO box 1317
West Tisbury MA 02575
l 508 693 7733

Thank you Pinkies!
Dan, as a young stud:

Dan, as an angel-in-training in 2007

Tags: a certain kind of beauty, dan aronie, grief, loss, nancy aronie
Posted in Lissa's personal yada yada yada, Owning Joy After Loss | 12 Comments »

Is It Possible to Live In Joy When Someone You Love Dies?

Sunday, October 25th, 2009

contemplation

Dearest Pinkies, please welcome Pink Posse rockstar Kimberly Wencl. Kim has been posting a series over on the Posse Blog that has kept all of us on the edge of our seats, waiting for more. The series, titled, “What I Know For Sure,” chronicles the events around and following the death of her daughter. Today, Kim offers profound wisdom on Owning Joy After Loss. We are delighted to introduce Kim and thank her for all that she brings to the Pink community.

In the fall of 2003, my Elizabeth had just turned 20 and had just begun her sophomore year at the University of Minnesota. During the early morning hours of Saturday, September 20th, a fire broke out in her duplex, and she and two roommates died of smoke inhalation.

The question I’m often asked is how can you find joy when you have suffered such a devastating loss?

The answer is simple, yet complex. It is a journey and not a destination. I wouldn’t be where I am today had God, or The Universe as I like to call it, not stepped into my life in a very strong, yet tangible way to lend a helping hand.

During the first few days, weeks and months after Liz’s death I was in a state of shock. Nothing can prepare you for such an event. I also felt very guided by something far greater than myself, and not knowing what else to do, I listened and followed. Thankfully, the signs I received from the Universe were so very obvious and just downright blatant that I could not help but pay attention.

Peace and Knowing

As soon as I learned of my daughter’s death, I felt a complete sense of deep peace. It was something I had never felt before and it is very difficult to put into words. The best way to describe it is that I was experiencing “the peace that passes all understanding.” I felt as if a path was put in front of me and I could follow it if I wanted to … but I didn’t have to. I was free to do whatever I wished. But this sense of peace was so tangible, so strong, and so real that it pulled me slowly step by step down a path … and I’m still on this path today.

Within the first week, three people shared with me signs they felt came from Liz – one of her closest high school friends, my mother and my husband. As I learned of each of them, it confirmed for me that this sense of peace I was feeling was indeed real. As a mother, all I have ever wanted for each of my children was that they be happy and safe from harm. I realized that Liz was both of those things and that I no longer needed to worry about her. It felt as if a huge burden had been lifted from my shoulders. It also gave me the courage to embark on this journey – to take a step, and then another, and another, and I’m still taking steps today, over six years later.

Questions and Answers

This strong presence of peace enabled me to immediately talk to Liz … asking for her help to deal with the many details that had to be handled. Eventually I came to realize she answered me in very real, concrete, and tangible ways.

The day after Liz’s death I had to go out and buy an outfit to bury her in. Everything she owned had been in the fire. I told her point blank that I needed her help – that I had no idea what she would want. It only took a few minutes for me to pick out a pair of khaki pants and a light blue sweater. I didn’t immediately “know” this was right. In fact, what I did “know” was that what she wore didn’t really matter. That knowing was unusual in and of itself, as Liz was a “fashionista” – she loved clothes and always wanted new outfits. The fact that what she wore no longer mattered proved to me that she now viewed the world in a new and different way.

Two days later, my sister-in-law told me that she had been going through pictures and found one of Liz taken the previous Christmas. She was wearing the identical outfit that I had picked out. My first thought was, “oh good, I think I got it right.” It took several months before the light bulb came on and I understood that I got it right because Liz truly did help me.

Compelled to Act

My family and I did our best to resume our life. We went back to work and school and we did the things we always did. But life for me continued to be a journey down a certain path – one step at a time. Each time a new opportunity presented itself I would have this intense yearning to follow. I have never, ever felt such strong compulsions to act in my entire life.

Many of the opportunities presented to me were completely out of my comfort zone – driving in a busy metropolitan area, meeting new people, not worrying about what other people thought, and eventually stepping out to write and speak my truth for the world to take in.

One month after Liz’s death, the smoke alarm in our home went off, and I was the only one heard it, even though my husband and younger daughter were also home at the time. I immediately knew it was a sign from Liz and not just some strange coincidence. It represented yet another step on my path.

Crossing Paths

A month later I found myself in just the right place at just the right time to meet a woman who changed my life and continues to this day to be my teacher, my mentor and my friend. Kathryn Harwig is a psychic, author, speaker, teacher, and lawyer. I learned of her ability to speak to the dead and immediately knew this was to be the next step on the path of this journey that was now my life.

Kathryn confirmed what I already knew – that Liz was fine. She was living a marvelous new life. Kathryn told me how much Liz loved me – and I told Liz how much I loved her. Nothing else really mattered. Kathryn helped us to forge a new connection as mother and daughter, but more importantly as kindred souls who will always be united.

Owning My Story

For a long time I questioned why all of these amazing things were happening to me? I was very reluctant to share them, and I lived in fear that I would be judged harshly.

It took time, but little by little I began to tell my story to those around me, and I came to understand that my experiences were meant to be shared with the world in order to allow others to perhaps see things in a new way, or, to realize what The Universe has available for all of us. To allow them to be open to the possibilities, to ask for what we need, to pay attention, and, most importantly, to be grateful for whatever it is we receive.

I have learned not to live in fear, but to trust and follow where you are led. My fear of being judged harshly by telling my story never happened.

My Message

Please know that I am not a special person with special privileges or abilities. I’m just like you – I lead a very normal, ordinary life, and my message is that guidance from The Universe is available to each of us.

Sometimes we cannot move through our pain and grief, but instead we become stuck in it. My hope and prayer will always be that my story will open up a world of new possibilities for those stuck in the pain so that they can see things in a new way, and move through the darkness of the pain out into the light of joy and happiness.

People sometimes feel that if they are happy – if they laugh or smile – they are somehow betraying their loved one. I can’t buy into that mentality. The best way to honor someone is to live a good life – to laugh, to love, and to do whatever possible to make the world a better place.

Do I have difficult days? Of course I do. Do I wish things could have been different? Yes, of course. The key is acknowledging our feelings – feel them to the Nth degree. If we do so, we will move through the pain and will not stay stuck in it. Tomorrow will always be better. If we stuff or deny our feelings, they may subside for a time – but they will return with a vengeance on another day at another time.

Eternal Being

Our relationships are gifts and sometimes gifts must be returned, even when we don’t want them to be. Our physical bodies die – but the essence of who we are and the love we share never dies.

“It is better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all.” I don’t know who penned those words but they are words to live by. The bond we all share with those we love is never broken – not even by death – and that is the best news of all and it’s what makes our life worth living each and every day.

In peace and joy,

Kim

Tags: death, death of a child, death of a loved one, fear of judgment, grief, joy after loss, kathryn harwig, loss, mother daughter relationship, psychic, shock, spirit communication, telling your story, universe
Posted in Guest Pinkies, Owning Joy After Loss, Owning Spirituality, Owning Surrender, Owning Your Intuition, pink posse | 7 Comments »

Impermanence: Does All Suffering Stem From Our Failure To Accept That Nothing Lasts Forever?

Monday, October 5th, 2009

Lately, my life seems to revolve around local Marin author Isabel Allende, who wrote The House of the Spirits, Eva Luna, Paula, and many other novels and memoirs. Not long ago, I met a lovely couple, Sally and Celia, who know Isabel very well. Celia used to be married to one of Isabel’s sons, and Sally was engaged to Isabel’s other son. For more than a decade, they have been a couple, raising the three children that are Isabel’s grandchildren. The story of how they met is pretty juicy. In fact, their love story is the epic around which Isabel’s latest memoir, The Sum of our Days, revolves. After I met Celia and Sally, they gave me a signed copy of Isabel’s book and extended an invitation. “Let’s get together and we’ll tell you the real story.”

The Cast of Characters

So now I’m halfway through the book, and Celia and Sally filled me in. If you want to read Isabel’s version, you can read her book, but I’ll keep their story private. But as we were wrapping up our evening, I mentioned that we would be attending the Family Day dharma talk at Green Gulch Zen Center the following day. Sally said, “Make sure you say hi to Fu and Grace for us.”

I recognized these names. These were two other characters from Isabel’s memoir, the foster parents who took in Isabel’s husband’s granddaughter, who lost her mother to drugs. Isabel references baby Sabrina in the loving care of Fu and Grace, who were raising her at the Zen Center, but I had no clue it was the very Zen Center I can walk to from my house.

Guess Who Was Leading the Dharma Talk?

The next day, I resolved to track down Fu (Grace had apparently been in a horrible car accident on the Golden Gate bridge and was still recovering). We arrived a few minutes late, and when we arrived, a beautiful older woman in robes was seated at the front, giving the dharma talk. Without any clue how I knew this, I was instantly certain this Buddhist priest leading our morning was Fu. I had never met her before and didn’t know she was a priest, but I had this profound sense of knowing from looking at her and seeing her voice. I settled onto my cushion, cross-legged, to listen.

Nothing Lasts

She spoke to the children sitting on the floor, telling a story about shucking corn and finding compassion in her heart for the worms in the corn. But when the children left, she dug into the meat of the talk, which was about impermanence, the Buddhist teaching that nothing lasts forever, not the good, not the bad. Our suffering revolves around our inability to accept this belief. The sun is a big ball of fuel, and one day, the fuel will run out and the solar system will cease to be. We prefer not to think of these things- that our planet will morph, our lives will end, and anything we love will change in time. We prefer to attach to what we love and know. And yet, it is this attachment that causes us to suffer.

Dharma, Dogma, & How Jesus Is My Favorite

I’ve always struggled with this Buddhist teaching. Much of Buddhism resonates with me, and when I mix it up with my Christian upbringing, I get this very personal religion that works for me. I like to say that Buddha is my homeboy, but Jesus is my favorite. But,as you can imagine, dharma and dogma get muddled in my mind from time to time. I find that I don’t believe all of what anyone preaches. I guess I have to sort it all out for myself.

Can You Love Without Attachment?

This one Buddhist teaching always gets me stuck. How am I not supposed to attach? I mean, sure, if I don’t love my daughter, I won’t miss her if I lose her. But love is a form of attachment, isn’t it? How can you love and still let go? If I don’t attach to my child, won’t I be neglecting her? Can’t I at least attach now, when she’s three and needs me so much? Can’t I wait to let her go until she’s 18? And even then, letting go will never prevent me from experiencing pain if I should lose her? My whole life is about attachment to what I love. What would detaching feel like?

I see the comfort in the flip-side. If you accept that nothing in permanent, then rough times will also pass. If neither good nor bad will last, we have only today- this very moment.

Life Can Change In A Blink

The beautiful priest explained how this truth had been made evident in her life recently. Her partner Grace (of course! I just knew it was Fu!) had just been in a devastating accident, and their lives had been turned upside down. They, along with their daughter Sabrina (of course!) were learning how to reconfigure a brand new life, since everything they considered permanent had all changed in a blink.

Fu was quiet then. And shifted the talk to less somber topics.

After the dharma talk, I introduced myself to Fu, and we spoke about Isabel, Sabrina, Grace, Sally, and Celia, this whole cast of real life characters I have been reading about. Hours later, I found Fu’s words still ringing in my head.

The Upside

Impermanence. Nothing lasts. On one level, how comforting. Feeling unhappy or having a bad day? It will pass. Feeling grief and loneliness? Only temporary. Experiencing pain? Pain alleviates.

The Downside

But the flip side? Love ends. Joy fades. Possessions disappear. I mean, I hear the words, but I just can’t get my brain around it. I guess we like to have it both ways, don’t we? We prefer to attach to the good and let go of the bad. At least I do. But how much of that attaching to the good leads to the clinging that causes our suffering? Does love (or rather, fear) make us cling to those we need to release? Do we fear the end of joy so much that we grab on with both hands? Does attaching to possessions lead to suffering?

Uh, probably.

Let’s Talk About Impermanence & Attachment

Anyway, I am no Buddhist teacher, I have no answers, and I’ve never claimed to be wise. But when questions ruminate in my mind, I figure they might be rumbling around yours too. And the circumstances that lead me to the hear this talk (Sally, Celia, Isabel’s book, Fu…I mean seriously, can you say Sign From the Universe #161?) lead me to believe that maybe I should throw my unformed thoughts out there and start a discussion with you Pinkies. I’d really love to hear your thoughts.

What do you think about all this? Does all suffering come from our desire to make the impermanent last forever? Are you able to let go? Can you truly surrender to the here and now and be present in the only moment that really exists? I’d love to know.

Here’s What I Believe

Pain is inevitable. Suffering is optional. Joy is a choice. If I attach, I will feel the stinging pain that comes with loss. But must I suffer when I experience loss? Well, I believe I will feel the pain, which will hurt. But, with God’s help, I can overcome anything. Anything. I don’t have to suffer. I’m inclined to love as fully as I can, accepting that with love, you allow yourself to feel all feelings fully- love, loss, pain. I wouldn’t have it any other way. If that means that I’m attaching, then I’m sorry. I guess I’ll just have to attach and deal with the consequences. Maybe life isn’t about avoiding suffering. Maybe it’s more about fully experiencing love. Perhaps it’s true that nothing is permanent, but in this present moment, everything exists and I want to embrace all that I love and hold dear with gratitude.

My mind is still aswirl, but I’ll quit rambling now. Forgive my very unfocused thoughts, Pinkies.

Trying to sort it all out,
Lissa

Tags: Buddhism, compassion, Eva Luna, fu schroeder, Green Gulch Zen Center, grief, impermanence, isabel allende, loss, Love, non-separation, The House of the Spirits, The Sum of Our Days
Posted in Lissa's personal yada yada yada, Owning Spirituality, Owning Surrender | 33 Comments »

How To Own Joy After Loss

Saturday, May 30th, 2009

Me and Trish Rankin (Mom), Owning Joy After Loss

For those of you who are intrigued about the Owning Joy After Loss workshop I’m facilitating this weekend, I thought I’d share a few tips with you. If you just lost someone or something precious, it’s almost impossible to imagine that you might one day Own Joy. But trust me. It’s in there somewhere. How can you facilitate the process of finding it? Whether you’ve lost your job, your house, your marriage, your health, or a loved one, these little nuggets will help.

First off, don’t skip grieving. You can’t possibly hopscotch straight past loss to Joy. But you don’t have to wait years to experience Joy again. When you feel it bubbling up within you, embrace it.
Realize that being joyful does not undermine your loss. Don’t make your life a testament to what you’ve lost. You’re not proving anything (that you’re right, that you loved dearly, or that you deserve attention) by staying stuck in your story.
Take a gratitude walk. Get outside, walk around, and think about what makes you feel grateful. Count your small blessings. Maybe you’re grateful for the purple lupine or the cottonwood that makes the air feel alive. Perhaps you’re grateful you no longer have to sort your loved one’s laundry. Maybe, by losing someone you love, you’re free to follow your own dreams, after being a caretaker. Look for the opportunity hidden in your loss, and don’t judge yourself.
Make sure you get enough sleep. Grieving is hard work, and it’s hard to feel joyful when stress is keeping you up at night. If you can’t sleep, seek professional help.
Try Laughter Yoga. Yes, such a thing really exists. We know that laughter is good for us, but who feels like laughing when you’re feeling sad? Laughter yoga is a combination of yoga breathing exercises (pranayama), childlike playfulness, and laughter. It’s based on the notion that your body can’t tell the difference between real laughter and fake laughter. In other words, fake it ‘til you make it. Chances are, you’ll feel so silly, genuine laughter will follow. Stay tuned for Mojo Monday this week- it’ll be all about Laughter Yoga.
Be creative. Sometimes, creative expression can put you in touch with healing energy you didn’t even know you had. We made our monsters in our workshop today, and everyone was shocked what came pouring out with nothing but a piece of paper and a few magic markers.
Drawing our monsters
Surround yourself with people that bring out the best in you and allow you to feel exactly what you feel. These people are precious. They will hold the space for you when you feel sad and need support. And they will share your joy when you find it.
After a reasonable amount of time has passed (during which you get to cry whenever you damn well want to), set aside time to grieve- but don’t allow yourself to wallow. Maybe every Wednesday is wailing Wednesdays, when you get to sob uncontrollably all day long. But when Thursday rolls around, brush yourself off and give yourself permission to experience Joy. Go bowling. Watch a funny movie. Meet your friends for a lunch date. Pick wildflowers in a field. Don’t let your loss define your entire existence.
Get outside and exercise. If you can’t get motivated, ask someone else to make you accountable.
Do something silly. Play on the swings like you’re five again. Stand on your hands and have someone take a picture of you. Paint your toenails green. Get your face painted. Shoot silly string at your best friend when she isn’t expecting it. Dance when nobody else is dancing. It’s okay. People know you’re grieving, so your friends will give you a long leash.
Barbara, Joanie, and Trish, Owning Joy After Loss
Check out the website created by Pink Posse member Christa Scalies, Giggle On. Christa’s whole mission with her website is to help people overcome loss by finding their Joy. You’ll laugh, you’ll cry. You’ll find yourself doing yoga breathing on a whoopee cushion. I swear, you’ll love it.
Find a spiritual community to support you. If you’re not a church-goer, try a yoga class, a spiritual dance experience, or a dharma talk.
Eat well. When you’re grieving, it’s easy to lose the motivation to prepare healthy food, so it’s easy to let your health slide. Joy will be hard to find if you’re ill. Take care of YOU.
Make a date to get out of your home at least once a week. Schedule friends that will pick you up and be playful with you.
Play happy music. Leave it on in your car. Keep a mix CD in your CD player. Make a happy Pink Playlist for your Ipod. Listen to it whenever you can.
Remember, pain is inevitable. Suffering is optional. Choose Joy instead.
Barbara, Carol, Joanie, Trish, and Kathy with their monsters at the Owning Joy After Loss workshop

What works for you, Pinkies? How do you Own Joy After Loss?

With love from the Owning Joy After Loss workshop in Ohio,

Lissa

Tags: Christa Scalies, Giggle On, gratitude walk, grief, grieving, grieving workshop, how to grieve, laughter yoga, Owning Joy After Loss, widow
Posted in Finding Mojo, Owning Joy After Loss | 5 Comments »

Owning Joy After Loss

Thursday, May 28th, 2009

The Spirit Boat Mom & I commissioned to memorialize Dad

Hola from Ohio, Pinkies! I’m about to co-lead an Owning Pink workshop with Mom called Owning Joy After Loss to a group of widows. While not the first Owning Pink workshop, this is the first Owning Joy After Loss workshop, so please send some healing juju up to the Buckeye State for us. We’re going to grieve together, go deep, imagine ourselves joyful, and then make it happen. We’ll be writing, doing guided imagery, HaHa HoHoHoing our way through Laughter Yoga, engaging in nurturing rituals, dancing to a very special Pink Playlist, crying, being goofy, and otherwise healing together. Since Mom and I lost Dad three years ago, we’ve been marinating on this idea, and it’s finally coming to fruition.

After Loss, Your Identity Dies

When you experience loss- whether you’ve lost a loved one, gotten divorced, quit or been fired from your job, face an empty nest, or been diagnosed with a serious illness- you experience a sort of death. Your life as you knew it is over. If you’re a widow like these women, you are no longer anyone’s wife. If you’re getting divorced, you’re no longer a married person. If you’ve lost your job as a legal secretary, you’re no longer a legal secretary. If your kids are off to college, you’re no longer a stay-at-home Mom. If you have cancer, you’re no longer well. These little deaths must be grieved- and that takes time. Not only have you experienced loss, your entire identity has now shifted. You may feel that after being SOMETHING, you are now NOTHING. And you are not alone in feeling that way.

It’s Okay To Feel Rootless

There’s a reason we’re not leading this workshop for widows who have just lost someone. Some time has passed for them. When the wounds are fresh, it’s almost impossible to Own Joy. You feel like a nobody in nowhereland on a path to nothing with nobody. And that’s okay. That’s how you’re supposed to feel when you’ve lost your whole sense of who you are. Don’t judge yourself, attempt to fast-forward the process, or skip this important step. This nothingness is fertile ground for what lies ahead for you- rebirth.

What Do We Mean By Owning Joy After Loss?

Our workshop is intended to facilitate the rebirthing process. After you’ve experienced loss, said goodbye to your former self, been mired in the muck of nothingness, and floundered back up for air, you may start to notice a little joy bubbling up. Once the agony of your loss starts to abate, you may be ready to start Owning Joy.

How Lissa Lost Her Mojo

When Dad died, two weeks after Siena was born, days after my beloved 16-year old dog died and my healthy brother ended up with liver failure from the antibiotic Zithromax, the Lissa I knew officially croaked. All in one fell swoop, I was transformed from a free-wheeling, doggie-loving, childless daughter with a Daddy and a healthy brother to a Dad-less, dog-less, breastfeeding mother with a brother on death’s door. Within a year, my husband cut two fingers off his hand with a table saw, and to top it all off, I quit practicing medicine. Bye, bye mojo. Not to belabor my sob story- I’m sure each of you can rattle off a series of life-changing events that rocked you like an earthquake and catapulted you into the muck. But I just wanted to reinforce the notion that if you’re feeling like Job, like you’re getting pelted with bad news like bullets in a battlefield, you’re not alone. I feel you, sister. spirit-boat-sm

Giving Birth To The New You

In our workshop, we’re going to go into the muck together- just to get it out of the way. Then we’re going to start dreaming, imagining, laughing and inviting ourselves to find our Joy. No one can find your Joy for you. And Mom and I can’t teach someone how to find it. All we can do is create the safe environment that allows people to go within to discover it for themselves. We all have every answer we need inside of us. Those who are courageous enough to explore are on the path to rebirthing a whole new identity, one that fits like a glove. Does that mean we’ll forget what we’ve lost? Of course not. But we can cope, even thrive, by allowing the catastrophe that killed off our old self to serve as the catalyst for transformation.

Looking Through The Retrospectoscope

When I look back, I now see that my Perfect Storm was absolutely critical to my personal growth and my life’s work. Anything less earth-shattering wouldn’t have been powerful enough to rock me out of my complacency. It has taken over three years to reemerge from the other side of the abyss, and I am profoundly changed. With this transformation comes great Joy. Every day, I am writing, painting, enjoying the challenges of being an entrepreneur, and interacting with incredible women in person and online. I am bringing all of myself to the table in a way I never did when I was a full-time doctor, churning through patients and doing what was expected of me but never quite felt like me. Every day, I am the Lissaest of Lissas- my authentic self. The dreams I just began to imagine a year ago are coming true. What better Joy is there?

How Dad Owned Joy After Loss

My father suffered loss after loss before he died. He was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis in his thirties, which led to progressive disability. Then he lost his job as a physician because of his disability, and with it, much of his core identity. Then, when I first found out I was pregnant with Siena, he was under the knife for prostate cancer. And finally, only a few months after the prostate cancer, he wound up with a giant brain tumor that turned out to be metastatic melanoma (with no primary tumor ever discovered). You might think the guy would be a little bitter. But when he was dying, I asked him if he was scared, and he said, “I’m not scaredd. I’m joyful,” which is what we inscribed on the spirit boat memorial we chose for him.

The plaque on Dad's Memorial that reads "I am not scared, I am joyful"

Looking At Life With Fresh Eyes

Most of the time, you can’t undo what you lost. While we might try to hop back into our old life like a baby kangaroo burrowing in her mama’s pouch, this doesn’t work with grief. You have to go through it to get past it. And that takes time. But what you can do- right this very moment- is change how you look at things. You might not be able to change your circumstance, but you can view your circumstance with fresh eyes. My Dad chose not to dwell on his losses. Instead, he looked for the Joy in every moment, every relationship, even small pleasures like spicy chicken wings from Hooters.

How Are You Owning Joy After Loss?

What about you, Pinkies? What have you lost? How has it changed you? What rebirth will happen because of your loss? Is your life true to your authentic self? Have you squelched a dream because it wasn’t “practical?” Is fear keeping you stuck? Loss, while agonizingly painful, is an opportunity. Are you going to snag it?

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Rest in Peace, Daddy- you bring me so much joy, even now…. dadlissasienasm