Accepting the Unacceptable ~ Finding Peace in Pain

Editor’s Note: I’ve made some minor changes to this post, as I prepped Part 2 and new directions unfolded.

When you are facing a hard circumstance, it may feel like a black cloud has settled over you, and you have become one with that cloud. Your life becomes a dark rain storm, pouring down deep drops of sorrow and suffering into your life.

Perhaps you are going through a divorce, a job loss, facing financial issues, feeling the betrayal of a friend, or watching a loved one face an illness.

Whatever it is, it is your battle, and it can feel unbearable when you are at the heart of the pain.

I’ve been in this space countless times. It has become so familiar to me, for awhile I started to think it was me, because it became so hard to see the beauty of life, surrounded by darkness.

“When you are surrounded with darkness, do not shake your fist and raise your voice and curse the darkness. Rather be a Light unto the darkness…”
~The Little Soul & The Sun by Neale Donald Walsch

Walking this path of loss, I’ve had to work really hard, daily, at making the conscious choice to live in light, instead of darkness.

To do this, I have had to work at embracing the pain of hurts, injustices, or losses that I have not been able to face, from both the past and the present.

People say, “You shouldn’t live in the past!” The truth is, even if your pain started in the past, it is still in your present. It is affecting you every day, whether you see it or not.

Many of us feel we are not equipped to face and embrace our pain. We fear they will be too much to handle.

In fact, it is scientifically proven that unexpressed pain is what negatively impacts our emotional, physical and spiritual health. I experienced this in spades after the death of my nephew. The emotions were so intense, it felt they were impossible to face, so I buried them instead.

It has only been in the last few years of looking at my pain, that I’ve been able to address, accept, and move through that old pain, to find peace.

It’s been hard bringing up the past, but it helped me to be a healthier, more radiantly alive person.

Now, I try to address any negative emotions that come up immediately.

 

We have to resolve the undigested emotions that are buried in our bodies and lodged as stress in our minds. We have to unearth, own, and embrace the very parts of ourselves that have caused us the most pain, and the moment we do, the light of awareness will begin the process of transforming them.
~Debbie Ford, “The Shadow Effect” movie

Obesity, diabetes, heart disease and cancer, they are all the result significantly of chronic, unprocessed inflammatory molecules that have their correlates in the psycho logic world of chronic, unprocessed emotions and experiences.
~Dr. Daniel Bressler, MD, FACP, in “The Shadow Effect” movie

I learned the life-altering negative impacts of ignoring my pain when my nephew died. For years, I was joyless, unhappy, and living in the identity of victim-hood.

Photo courtesy Sunfellow Photography http://www.sunfellow.com/

A dear friend of mine likes to say, “You gotta feel it to heal it!”

I like to say, “You can’t go around it…gotta go through it!”

So, as you are sitting here reading this, I encourage you to gently notice the pain that is lying dormant, or maybe aggressively active, within you. Look at it and begin to see it with eyes of compassion instead of judgement. Can you see how it could dramatically improve your life to deal with this pain, instead of ignoring it? Can you see how this pain has kept you from living a more fulfilling life? 

Be willing to go within and look at your pain. This simple process requires no more then your willingness to participate. You don’t need anyone else to be with you in it. You don’t need any materials (although I do ALWAYS recommend having a good journal and a good book as your close friends AT ALL TIMES!). And, you don’t need to be afraid.

Part II will be posted tomorrow, so stay tuned.

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Thank you for reading, and if you would be kind, make me smile by leaving a little comment. =) It helps me to know what speaks to you, so I can write more on the topics that help you! So, go ahead, click that little comment button below and tell me you were here! You can DEW IT! 

My Baby Died…And Taught Me to Believe

That little voice within me is always right but, it’s taken me a long time to learn that. I tend to drown her out with the noise of my mind.

She knew, when I first found out I was pregnant, on my daughter’s birthday, May of 2009, that it was the beginning of an end.

She tried to tell me something was wrong. Every time I uttered those two simple words, “I’m pregnant,” she’d given me that kick in the shin within – it said, “Not yet, wait.” But I didn’t listen.

My Aunt Debbie, 51, had just passed away in March, after a long battle with lung cancer, and the pay cuts for Kory and I both had hit in January, and again in May, decimating our income.

When we found out we were pregnant again, with our second child, JOY wasn’t even the word for it. It was like we were climbing a sheer cliff, scrambling at slippery rock walls with bare fingers, and someone had just tossed us a rope from above.

The day we found out we were pregnant with our angel baby.

In many ways, that baby was the only good thing happening for us.

We were already picking out names and planning the nursery, when I woke up – on Kory’s birthday – to find the end had come.

My baby died, and with it, a little piece of me died, too.

The miscarriage was the most physically and emotionally painful, personal experience of grief I’ve experienced yet, out of ten more deaths since.

I felt like my body betrayed me, and I had so many questions my Doctor could never answer – why did this happen? Was something wrong with me? Would I ever be able to conceive again? Had I passed some invisible age barrier in the short two years since I’d last given birth, and now I’d unknowingly become an infertile maid? Was it a fluke? Was something wrong with the baby?

My mind could torment with these questions ‘til I reached my death bed, and never find answers.

I needed to find peace – not necessarily a definitive answer on how or why this had happened – just peace. And for me, that was maybe just accepting NOT knowing, NOT being able to understand.

This is something I’ve struggled with repeatedly since – because loss doesn’t make sense. There never is a good reason why. It simply is as it is, and there’s nothing we can do to change it.

But we can find peace, if we trust the voice within.

I have learned that peace is accepting this moment as it is, whatever it brings. That doesn’t mean I have to say, “YIPPEE! I’m so happy my baby died! I can’t wait to find the gifts in this!”

It means, it’s ok to feel angry, sad, scared, betrayed, and bruised. It’s ok to feel the pain, and acknowledge it. Facing the pain is how we create a path to peace.

I highly recommend journal-ing if you are going through any sort of transition. It's a place to dump all our raw feelings, then in re-reading, it gives us self-empathy.

So, I bought a journal, and I ripped my pain out onto those pages in large scribbles and scrawls.

The day I went back to the doctor to have an ultrasound that would show an empty womb, no longer bearing the beauty of my would-be baby, I took my journal and my pen to the creek, and reminded myself of the beauty around the pain. Simply surrounding myself in beauty completely changed my perspective. Life was no longer just the pain of the loss, life had beauty, too.

I closed my eyes, listened to the quiet whispers of the creek beside me, and asked for my peace and answers from within. I wanted to understand why this baby had come in, then gone. Why? Why did it come at all then? What gifts did it have for me? I believe, “All things work for good in my life,” so what good could possibly come from this?

The answers I found in my quiet reflection were this…

That baby didn’t come for nothing.

I thought maybe she’d come to teach me how to be a Mom to two, or how to give empathy to a three year old, or how to play catch with my first little boy.

Instead, she taught me FAITH.

I’m not talking faith like pick a religion, believe it and preach it. I’m talking FAITH…believing in the unseen, believing in me, believing in that little inner voice within.

Just a few days after the miscarriage had begun, I wrote in my journal.

No one could have prepared me for this experience. I have been completely caught off guard by how deeply it has affected me, and how far reaching the pangs of utter devastation and loss have spread into my heart. But what comforts me is this intrinsic knowing within that this experience has led me directly to…not away from…the beautiful, wonderful little being that is coming my way. Suddenly, I do feel a strong connection to a baby boy coming – I can almost see him! I can feel him, hear him (a little giggle), and sense him. He is playful and joyful and ready to come and play. He’s excited to meet us and know us as his parents. He’s already connected to Kayta and experiencing her as his big sis. He’s-a comin’ and he’s right on time.

I named that baby “Faith,” for what she’d taught me, and moved forward believing another baby was coming soon.

Just a few weeks later, I found out I was pregnant again.

I gave birth to a beautiful baby boy in Spring of 2010.

A few minutes after my son was born...

After a whirlwind natural delivery, I hemorrhaged and lost over a third of my blood. My parents said they thought they were going to lose me, as they watched my Doctor fight to find the source of the bleed and stop it. In the end, I made it through, but spent the first month of my son’s life not being able to stand up for more then ten minutes because I was so weak.

He was worth it though! He was a dream come true in so many ways. See, I had lost the first baby boy in my life – my nephew, when he died just two months before his third birthday. And I had lost “Faith” with the miscarriage.

But, in the end, that voice within was right again.

My son, Kanon

I now have the bubbly, cuddly, giggly little boy who adores his big sister (he’s sitting here kissing me repeatedly as I write this!). He is everything I knew he would be, and I treasure him more every day now, for the battle I fought to reach him. I always knew I would make it to him, somehow, I just had to have a little “Faith” along the way.

Not every story has a happy ending like this one, but every story can have that peace that comes from within – that “accepting the not knowing.” It’s hard to believe, but I’ve seen it again and again in my life. Change, death, pain are all a part of this world. But if we have a little faith, we can find the beauty around the pain. We can remember that every end is also a beginning.

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As I was writing this, I kept hearing one line of a song in my head, “Trust the voice with…innnnn.” I went looking and realized it was an old Christina Aguilera song, “The Voice Within”. Listening to it again now, the words took on new meaning.  My gift for you: The Voice Within

Grim Reaper Girl – Part I

I’m afraid to share what I have to say. 

I’m afraid of what you’ll think of me. 

I’m afraid you don’t want to hear it.

My name is Megan. I am the Grim Reaper Girl.

Just incase you don’t know my story already…in the last three years TWELVE people in my life have died. I have sat at the deathbeds of five. I watched Cancer (and yes, in my book it gets freaking capitalized because it’s a monster) eat four of them alive, slowly and painfully.

90% of them were under the age of 50. One was five.

If I averaged it out, I’ve been to a funeral every other month for three years.

Oh, and I’ve moved, I’ve moved a lot, running around trying to make a better life for our family in this recession…we have moved four times now. We had the American Dream, and lost it. Thank God, because let me tell you trying to hold onto that ridiculous image of perfection was only an American nightmare.

I have had to redefine my meaning of home, because it so often changes.

I once called myself a “City Widow” and I have also given myself another certification: self-made Grief Specialist.

But, not a lot of people know all this about me because well, I’m the Grim Reaper Girl. Maybe they think if they stand too close to me, they’ll get cooties, and death and pain will rub off on them, too.

In the Spring of 2010, after my latest slew of tragedies had taken my three year old daughter’s best friend, my husband’s job, our new life and new home, a friend of mine informed me, politely, that the general population of Facebook had deemed me…

Duhhn…dunnnn…dunnnn….duhhhhhhhhnnnnnnnnn…

A downer.

Yup, it was official. I was singlehandedly bringing the entire cartoon-posting, music-streaming, “did you see the latest Lady Gaga video?” mood of Facebook down by keepin’ it real.

I was…the Grim Reaper Girl.

I’m keepin’ it light here, because, well, I did title this post “Grim Reaper Girl” and I’m a little worried I might scare ya off if I get too real, and then I might turn into a downer…but really, that whole Facebook thing was pretty tragic for me. It sent me, bags packin’, into a self-induced hermitville where I stayed for quite awhile, painfully afraid to tell the world what was really going on with me because I didn’t want to…bring anyone else down.

Then, my Grandpa died. Then, my Grandma died. Then, we had to move…again. 

That's my Grandma on the left there, reacting to the news that I was pregnant with our 2nd child that I miscarried 2 weeks after this photo was taken, one month after my Aunt's death. On the far left, that's my Grandpa Bob who died last year. One photo. Three soon-to-be ANGELS.

But, I didn’t post about any of it on Facebook, and I didn’t tell too many people…I was too scared.

It was just a couple months ago, right after my Grandma died, that I reached my darkest point of the last three years. I stayed in my room for five days and didn’t leave. I stopped eating, stopped drinking. I didn’t care anymore about anything. It hurt too much to be alive. Life had become synonymous with too much intense pain. And, I hated myself for not being able to pick myself up yet again…and be a good Mom, wife, lover, friend. I felt so…alone.

My husband called our parents and siblings and said, “What do I do?” He’d seen me down before, he’d seen me grieve A LOT. But after all the losses, he’d never seen me like this.

I didn’t want to die, but I didn’t want to continue to live a LIFE OF LOSS either. I’d stopped being able to see the beauty outside the pain.

I’m blessed to have amazing family and a few friends in my life that always show up for me, but it really is rare to find someone, anyone, who can face death alongside you.

My Grandma had faced her own inner demons, and because of that, she had developed an unusual sense of compassion and an ability to honor and acknowledge all the little deaths in my life. She was one of the only people who called me up after every single loss, big or small, to sit with me in the pain and acknowledge it.

She never treated me like the Grim Reaper Girl.

I think it was because of this that her loss hit me harder then any of the rest. Plus, well, the whole slop of all the losses piled on top of each other like a cheap Carl’s Jr. hamburger kind of made me feel like the “meat” on the bottom of a dogpile.

Worse then the pain itself, though, was feeling like I had to hide it from the world, like no one could really understand or see the pain I was in.

Then, my husband’s Dad called me. This is a man who isn’t necessarily spiritual in my mind. He’s simply a good man.

And he said to me, “The amount of stuff you’ve been through the last few years…and all you’ve been doing is trying and trying and trying to find a way to make it all better and it just keeps getting worse…it must be getting really old. I’m so sorry sweetie.”

In an instant, my heart melted. The tower I had built around it came down brick by brick. And I took the metaphysical gun away from my head and light came back into my world of darkness.

He was a simple and profound reminder that I am not alone. He looked at me and didn’t just say, “I’m sorry.” He said, “I see you…I see the pain, I see how hard you’ve been trying to survive all this loss, and I get it.” His words gave me the strength to pick myself up off the bottom of the dogpile and start seeing the beauty around the pain.

Oprah said on her final show, and you’ll hear me quote this line again and again because I have learned that this right here, folks, is really what it’s ALL about (not the hokey pokey!)…

“I’ve talked to nearly 30,000 people on this show, and all 30,000 had one thing in common — they all wanted validation. They want to know, do you hear me? Do you see me? Does what I say mean anything to you?”

My question to you is, do you see the person sitting next to you at work? Do you see the man at the gas station swiping your credit card? Do you care about them? Do you let them know that?

Can a SOCIAL NETWORK be a SOCIAL SUPPORT GROUP? Can we go past "Likes" and also dole out, "I see you's" and "I care's"???

And what about Facebook? Its called a SOCIAL NETWORK. Every day, in 468 characters or less, or with one click of a “like” button, you have a chance to say, “I see you, I care,” to 499 of your closest friends and family. Do you use that power? 

Plato said, “Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle.”

I wonder how we would treat each other if we all walked around with signs on our backs bearing the terms of our battles.

The night my two year old nephew died, I left the hospital for a few minutes to run a family member home to her kids. I hadn’t eaten in two days. I hadn’t slept. My entire world had just changed, as if a movie set had been broken down and another completely different backdrop had been put up in its place. I stopped at a gas station to get a snack and I looked around at the people in the gas station, just going about life as usual, and I thought, “Do they have any idea what I’m going through right now? How would they treat me if they knew what I’m about to have to do?”

A man cut me off on the road on the way home, and I thought, “Would he have done that if he knew???”

How would you treat every stranger if you looked at them like they were fighting the battle of their life?

If you’d run into me in that gas station and seen a sign on my back that read, “My 3 year old nephew died last night and I’m about to go hold him for the last time,” would you have stopped to shake my hand? Give me a hug? Hold my hand? Would you have taken the time to say, “I’m sorry” ???

I bet you would have.

The next time you’re out grocery shopping or filling up at the gas station, the next time you glance at a stranger and feel that urge to look down and just go about your business back on your little island in your little realm of the atmosphere, I want you to stop and look at them again. Look at them and ask yourself, “What battle are they fighting?”

Then…ACKNOWLEDGE THEM.

It doesn’t take much. Just a smile, a word, a gracious opening of the door or a, “No, you go ahead.”

I can tell you right now…that ONE LITTLE THING…could save a life. 

Sometimes, the most basic form of acknowledgement is the most profound gift you can give a person…especially if they’ve started to think the world doesn’t see them, doesn’t care.

A smile has saved my life a million times.

A few words have eased my pain more then 10,000 hours of therapy could.

A few brave friends…willing to stand beside the Grim Reaper Girl…have made my life worth living. In fact, they’ve made a life of loss turn into a life of beauty. I can honestly say, I’ve never been more at peace, more filled with joy then I am today. I’m not a wallowing mess of depression, I am a strong, courageous woman on a mission now…my mission? To tell everyone I meet, “I see you, I care.” 

So, the question is, can a SOCIAL NETWORK be a SOCIAL SUPPORT GROUP? Can we be real or can we only go so far as Lady Gaga will let us go?

Take a risk, post something brave, something real. Maybe someone will tell you they see you. Maybe someone will CARE. 

Remember what I always say…
Life’s greatest question is “Why are we here?”
I believe the answer is, “For each other.”
This post is dedicated to anyone who has ever looked at me and with their eyes, heart or words said, “I see you, I care.” You are the beauty in my life. You remind me of the beauty and joy that is always surrounding the pain. You’re bigger then the pain…you’re the best Band-Aid a Grim Reaper Girl could ever ask for.