News Flash….I’m Human!

Those afore mentioned words are for my reference rather than an update for you. These words of whit are what I am constantly repeating to myself in hopes of helping me remember the obvious….I’m human. Sounds illogical because it is. My human brain is able to sense, feel, and understand the strengths, weaknesses, abilities, and limitations of others while discounting my own. This has been a huge area in need of improvement in my life pre-loss, but especially after. I’m speaking from my heart when I tell you that it’s extremely difficult AND rewarding to learn and appreciate your lack of control.

There are days when I feel like I have been hit with a double whammy in my pursuit of control. Honestly, maybe even a triple. I have been an obsessive perfectionist since birth. My mother often recounts the stories of my toddler self, crying to be changed because I had food or dirt on me. Don’t even ask my siblings to tell you their stories of torturing me by walking across my freshly vacuumed bedroom carpet. The pursuit of control and perfection is something so deep within me, I hardly recognize myself with out it. My late husband, Cal, used to tell me I was so good at portraying that I had everything under control that others were actually intimidated by me. Well, that’s comforting. With all that said, I’m learning to accept and even respect my limitations.

Here’s the thing with life…sometimes it rips you apart, shatters your pieces, and requires you to piece yourself together, different. It’s impossible to place each little fragment back in the same exact spot. Understanding this takes time and is different for each person, because initially you want everything to remain the same as it was. I remember unintentionally, out of habit, and also very intentionally doing this; because I was afraid I’d forget Cal and us. This was my inner desire for control. If I keep going, and keep things the same, it’s all going to be okay. Seriously? Who was I kidding? How could I ever forget a person my life was built around? On the flipside how could my life be the same without him?   It’s not until you can finally grasp that your life will NEVER be the same again that you can get real in this process. I have been thankful for my children from minute one after his death. They have given me a purpose and a reason to fight through this, while providing many moments of clarity. Helping them work through their grief has often been a figurative slap in the face. For example, when I watched my son watch his first football game without his dad and go through the process just as they did, I had to accept that I have taught them that this was what they should do. It was in this moment that I asked him if he always enjoyed every part of the football routine that he and his dad shared. His response, “I’m not really sure. It’s just what we did.” “Okay, but you know that you now can adjust this process and make it how you want it, right? I don’t want you to stop anything you don’t want to stop, but it’s not healthy to keep everything exactly how your dad would want it, just for him. I mean, it’s not going to bring him back or make you forget everything before.” After we finished our conversation I walked away vowing to apply my own words no matter how impossible it appeared at that time. It was then that I started letting my false sense of control slip. When I started chipping away at this false armor I started to accept that I too am human. Meaning that I’m capable of feeling intense pain, intense happiness, everything in between, having limitations, and even making mistakes. As stated before, I accepted and even appreciated this in others. It’s time I did for myself. This shift is what has helped me compare myself, my family, my grief, and my feelings less.

In this process others that have also experienced loss on a profound level have embraced me. Through these friendships I have been able to have very candid conversations about the reassembly process of life and self. It’s also where I have observed how comparison and the desire to control kicks into overdrive when you feel broken and vulnerable. In these conversations it’s not unlikely to hear, “I can’t do that yet. You’re stronger than I am. I don’t know how you do it. I’m sorry for brining you down today.” Hold up! Since when is grief and life a contest to be the one that experiences the gross most successfully? Or better yet, experience the gross as if it isn’t there? It’s not a contest or comparison….plain and simple. No two people experience or feel life the same way. Not even those in the same family, working through the same things. This is because we’re human rather than machines. There is no set process for anything. Those that tell you there is a set time or cycle to grief have never grieved. Clearly!

The more I have been delivered the figurative slap lately, the more I have realized the importance of accepting my humanness. This means, feeling my emotions…good, bad, and indifferent…giving myself permission to feel and voice powerlessness, and allowing others to see my limitations. Sounds simple, but after years of the exact opposite, it takes an immense focus and clarity. BUT, there are huge benefits. Aside from feeling less stress from trying to control I have experienced truer relationships and people have really learned how to help and support. I have also seen a shift in my own children. For example, I was recently feeling the stress of managing a home, working, parenting, and trying to take care of my own needs. My son just so happened to be alone with me (lucky him….haha) as I was working through an emotional moment. He said, “Mom, you look stressed.” Instead of saying my usual, “I’m okay. I got this.” I actually teared up a bit and said, “I’m completely overwhelmed. I hate that my life has become so hectic. I did not sign up for this. I hate doing this all alone. It’s too much.” After we went our separate ways for a bit we were able to have a real conversation about our emotions. I was expecting him to express how upset he was after our honest conversation, but it was the opposite. My honesty helped him accept his humanness and sometimes, unpleasant emotions. He asked me if I was feeling better and I said that I was. I also expressed that I was sorry he had to start his day off seeing my frustration. To which he said, “I get really frustrated too. Some days I get so mad about how Dad left us. Sometimes I feel like we work so hard because he’s gone. I didn’t know that you felt that too.” Holy moly! My being real has not only helped me, but my children are learning how to better express their feelings and needs, while learning that sometimes our feelings don’t feel so positive and that’s okay. Being able to experience the less welcomed emotions and work through them is how we release that energy. This is vital to moving forward!

Being human means that we experience all our “feels.” The entire spectrum of them. Rather than trying to control or push through, we live in the moment, listen to our bodies, and honor our limitations. As always, I’m a work in progress, but I’m one day closer to being truer to myself. So the next time you see me and ask how we’re doing, you may not hear “Fine.” You’ve been warned.

This post is dedicated to my real friend K.Z. that taught me, “Being honest and real is being kind. To yourself and others.”

This is a yearly tradition that Jadin started when he was three that we have chosen to continue because we LOVE it.  Every year on Halloween we go to this spot and take in the beauty of where we live and reflect on life.  It’s interesting and sometimes heartbreaking to see how these pictures have changed from year to year.