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.
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?
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?
Post your comments please, and let others find solace, empathy, inspiration, comfort, and friendship in your story.
Rest in Peace, Daddy- you bring me so much joy, even now….
With handfuls of hankies (really, I cried my way through this post- but I’m joyful, I swear!),
Lissa
