Tired of the incessant message of epic failure running in the back of your mind?
If you want to feel organized, have a lighter load of things to do, to learn how to manage everything that now falls squarely on your shoulders whether you want it to or not
Let’s roll back the time a moment…. When I was eleven, I had a hamster named Twitter. I loved my little beady eyed, furry, quiet pal. After school one evening, I found twitter dead in his pen. His little body cold and still. I ran out of my bedroom holding Twitter in the palms of my hands willing him to wake up. Denial. Misery gripped my heart. Hysterical, I found my dad sitting on the couch watching the nightly news. Startled he looked at me “what’s the matter?” he asked, fear and urgency in his voice. Sobbing I caught my breath “Twitter is dead” sob-sob-sob. Flummoxed He was quiet for a few beats. My dad loathed when anyone he loved was hurting. It’s as if he felt the pain himself. He would do anything it took to stop the pain not always in a helpful or nurturing way. Struggling on what to say… more seconds ticked by. Sobbing filling the room. “Oh jeeze” he exclaimed impatiently. “Stop crying. What if it was your brother or sister instead of a damn hamster!” He did the only thing he knew, he demanded I stop crying, he gathered me in his big strong arms holding me. Quickly I cried it out, clearly he was out of his element and didn’t know how to make it better. Awkward comfort fell short. He couldn’t take back the sharp edge of discomfort. I knew I had to stop crying so my dad could feel okay. I was forced to stuff my pain so my dad could be okay. Remind you of anything? My broken heart felt sad and empty. In that moment I knew I was on my own. I had to hide grief, so I didn’t make someone else feel bad. A few years later, there was a much larger tragedy… my sister was tragically killed in an accident. She was 20 years old. I was 15.
That day, my dad announced there will be no crying in this house. Any grief and sorrow I might have felt was left high and dry. My parents didn’t know how to console. They didn’t know how to grieve. They became frozen in their pain. Fast forward, decades later, my husband died. As I had been taught, I tried to get out of grieving to escape the pain. I tried to ignore heart wrenching sadness. Lord forbid anyone be uncomfortable around the widow who lost the person she was most important to.
I’d smile kindly, comfort others if they needed it.
ously given. Even when I was so very sad. Alone. Broken. With no idea who I was supposed to be or how I was going to live my life, I bucked up smile in place. After a time, I knew I could NOT live the rest of my days feeling like this. The harder I tried to be okay, the messier I became. Still I’d do whatever it took to make sure everyone else was okay. I was freaking dandy. It comes to no surprise my mind and body were plagued with stuck grief and chaotic emotions. All which showed up as: Adrenal fatigue. Weight gain. Chronic pain and inflammation. Mood swings. Denial. Sickness. Exhaustion. Brain fog…. I had it all. With misery mounting, I realized I could no longer hide from grief. My mind and body felt as though a wrecking ball had smashed all that used to be me. I didn’t recognize myself. I didn’t know who I supposed to be. The idea of managing my daily responsibilities felt impossible. My late husband had a lot of stuff and things. A LOT. There were tools from his trade A massive collection of CDs… enough to open a music store. (I didn’t) A model car collection Ski gear Boxes and boxes overflowing with pictures of God only knows what Books… so many books His beloved sand rail Every square inch screamed of the life ended too soon I couldn’t stand to think of the monumental task of going through all of his things, to the point my skin hurt. I ached inside at the thought of doing what needed to be done. Then one day I ached inside at the thought of NOT doing what needed to be done. I knew I had to do it. It was time. It was when the pain of all of his belongings sitting there unused, suffocating me, was greater than the pain of the focus and effort it would take to purge. To donate. To give away. To sell. To be stolen… because that happened too. Still, I was frozen. I didn’t know where to start. One day in a rush of achingly painful motivation, I decided to get help. I prayed and asked God to help me know what to do. I needed Divine help because I was lost and didn’t where to start. Soon, I knew where to start. God delivered direction and wisdom. Before I could second guess myself or talk myself out of it, I set up an appointment with a grief coach and mentor. We met weekly. We worked on grief. Past grief. Present grief. Stuck grief. All the grief. I was able to develop a plan that felt manageable. Some days I’d only work 10-minutes. If I kept my word to myself and did the 10 minutes, I felt better. I felt respect for myself. Keeping to my word felt new and interesting. It felt empowering!! Little by little I did whatever I felt I could manage. I asked family to help and they did. I asked friends to go with me to donate things. They did. One day feeling anxious and tense
standing in the kitchen as I emptied the dishwasher, I could feel the all too familiar angst rising. Wound tight in my chest like a coil I struggled to catch my breath. I kept working…. knowing if I just got the dishwasher emptied, I’d feel accomplishment. As I placed a couple of glasses in the cupboard my eye caught sight of a large sunny yellow salad bowl. It was one of my favorites. The sunny yellow bowl was part of a matched set, Mark and I had bought together at an art fair. Each dish was painted in bright beautiful colors. To my dismay, the beautiful sunny yellow bowl had a chip. It had been there for a good long while. I just couldn’t bring myself to throw it away even though I couldn’t use it. The chip had been nagging my subconscious… playing in the back of my mind like a nasty fly buzzing around my head. I hated that the bowl was chipped. Useless. Nagging me. Taunting me. Whispering that I had no control over the the bowl or my life. Something snapped in me. As if in a trance I reached up taking the bowl in my hands. Slowly, I pivoted to face an opening leading into the porch. Deliberately I threw the sunny yellow bowl onto the hard tile floor. The bowl shattered. Splendid sunny yellow shards spread across the floor. This felt good. I reached up grabbing a sage green cereal bowl also chipped. I threw it. With a mix of sunny yellow and sage green scattered gloriously, I decided there was a call for some vibrant red. I took a bright red coffee cup, part of the set, out of the cupboard. No chip. Didn’t matter. I threw the red cup. Releasing a deep breath, I felt tension leaving my body. I felt justified for the pain of purging what was behind me and was still yet to come. I decided I’d had done enough that day. I felt refreshed, a feeling I didn’t recognized. I poured myself a glass of red wine. A reward for grief work well done. Gingerly, I stepped past the colorful chips of broken ceramic scattered about. Outside I sat by the side of our swimming pool, slipped my shoes off. Taking a luxuriant stretch. I stepped first one foot and then the other into the soothing water. This felt healing and somehow profound. I knew something had changed; I felt a shift. What had felt like a heavy shroud of all the “things” had lifted. Just like that, the long hard to-do list no longer held power over me. I sat up a bit straighter as if given a gift. That evening, when my daughter came home, she saw the broken ceramic on the floor, she said "Oh, I see you had craft time today, do you feel better?" Yes, I said. I feel better. I was going to be okay. I knew it. The following Monday was my weekly visit with my coach. I shared the dish smashing activity with her. She said, isn’t it grand to release the things that no longer serve you? From that day on, it became easier and easier to sort out my messy emotions and all the things I needed to do. I no longer wanted to cling to THINGS as a way to keep me tethered to the past. With my new mindset (because that’s what it was) …. I played music. The music I wanted to hear.
To dance… because I could. It felt amazing! I felt free. I easily sorted through years of things.
I’d catch myself singing along with the happy music… smile and keep working. Making that first call to ask for help was a monumental time in my grief journey. I realized all along it had been up to me to take the first step. I’d risen to the occasion finding peace in the very pain that had kept me stuck for much longer than I like to think about. I learned to block my time to keep me focused to get more done in less time. It felt so very wonderful to load my truck with bags and boxes. Hauling as much as I could to donate to people that had a need for what I needed to let go of. My heart felt expansive and light. It turned out taking imperfect action, no matter how uncertain, was exactly what HAD to happen. Only you know when it’s time for you to take action. I will tell you, staying stuck really sucks. Just like my parents, I could have buried my head in the sand staying sad and stuck, but I decided that was not what I wanted for my life. I made a decision to create change. God helped me each step of the way, He knew I needed time and rest and acceptance. I took it, did it all, but then when it was time, He helped me to step into action. That is exactly what this mini program is all about! Better Days Blueprint is based on my own epic fails and transformational learning. ➜ Getting more done in less time without overwhelm ➜ Chunking my to-do list down in a manageable way ➜ How to be accountable to a process that works so it feels easy and doable ➜ Feeling like you have your own back so you can begin to trust yourself ➜ Healing one small step at a time in a way that feels safe and good ➜ Becoming friends with yourself in a way that offers freedom from guilt and self-doubt ➜ Discovering who you will be now and LIKING HER! ➜ Creating a new life, you’ll LOVE to live- turning the impossible to possible Are you ready to learn a way to manage your life and to step into your power? Click HERE for all the details.