Welcoming Grief
Over the weekend, I was honoured to help facilitate the second annual Deathly Matters conference: two days of powerful speakers exploring diverse topics aimed at doing death better. The amazing speakers shared insights on palliative care in the homeless population; the ecological footprint of death; pet loss; indigenous perspectives on death, dying and grief; medical assistance in dying; home funerals; the intersection of trauma informed deathcare and cultural humility; planning for living while dying; and so much more.
It was a rich weekend of deep learning, inspiration and community building. Such a balm in this wildly chaotic year.
As I reflect on the weekend, and its purpose -- doing death better -- I’m focusing on doing grief better, too. Grief is a natural and expected response when someone dies, AND I want to focus on the grief we often don’t experience, or at least not fully, openly or freely, for things other than death.
It’s a topic that’s been popping up for the past few months (thanks to COVID), and especially this time of year when many traditions around the world celebrate and mark the passing of ancestors.
We’ve collectively had a challenging year, with lots of losses in many forms. Directly related to the virus, we’ve witnessed loved ones who’ve died, and family members who weren’t able to be present in their final days, hours and moments; who haven’t been able to gather to carry out rituals of mourning, like funerals; whose lives have been cut short because of the resulting isolation; whose jobs have disappeared; whose social circles have shrunken; whose ability to move about in the world has drastically changed. It’s sad and it’s tragic and we are right to grieve.
Before we get too far, I want to provide a few definitions.
So, what is grief?
Grief is “a strong, sometimes overwhelming emotion for people” and is “the natural reaction to loss. Grief is both a universal and a personal experience.” (from Mayo Clinic) Another definition, from the Grief Recovery Method, is: “Grief is the conflicting feelings caused by the end of or change in a familiar pattern of behaviour.” One of my favourite definitions of grief is from a 2014 blog post by Jamie Anderson:
“Grief, I’ve learned, is really just love. It’s all the love you want to give, but cannot. All that unspent love gathers up in the corners of your eyes, the lump in your throat, and in that hollow part of your chest. Grief is just love with no place to go.”
That love can be connected to a person, a relationship, a dream.
A few other definitions:
Pioneered by Pauline Boss, PhD, ambiguous grief exists with any loss that’s unclear and lacks resolution. (For more details: https://www.ambiguousloss.com/about/faq/) A lot of what we’ve been experiencing throughout 2020 might be categorized as this flavour of loss and resulting grief.
Many folks, especially those awaiting a loved one’s or their own imminent death, experience anticipatory grief: grieving before the loss occurs, because we know what’s coming and we know it’s going to hurt.
And a final option on the grief menu is disenfranchised grief, which was coined by Kenneth Doka, PhD. This is grief that isn’t or can’t “be openly acknowledged, socially sanctioned or publicly mourned.” These are the losses and griefs that we don’t speak about, because it doesn’t feel safe or valid, for a number of reasons. For an insightful list of perspectives of disenfranchised grief, visit https://whatsyourgrief.com/64-examples-of-disenfranchised-grief/.
This last one seems especially applicable to living with a long-term illness, and really got me thinking.
Wow, this sounds like a big juicy bowl of grief-y fun times, Jilly, I can hear you say. Stay with me.
So, why am I wading into the grief pool anyway?
A while ago, my coach encouraged me to create some time-bound space to be in grief about living with long-term illness. Over nearly 40 years, I’ve mostly just sucked it up. I try not to complain or think about what ifs. How does that help anything? I’ve always thought.
And yet.
While talking with my coach, I was surprised at the velocity and veracity of emotion that rose in me when I thought about all I have carried over the decades because of this condition.
All that is unseen by others but hovering over and around me all the time.
All that fills my backpack that I can never set down.
It showed up in my clenched throat and the tears that spilled from my eyes. My coach astutely pointed out that I was keeping part of myself locked away by not being with it and all it brings up for me, and challenged me to acknowledge it.
Whoah. For someone whose top value is BE REAL, that struck a chord. I was out of alignment by denying myself the impact of this condition, by keeping it hidden from view and by putting on a brave, suck-it-up face.
So, it took me a while to carve out the time (um, hello resistance my old friend) but I finally did and the following lists are what emerged.
Side note: Turns out I grieve through list-making. What’s that saying? How we do one thing in life is how we do all things…..Wellllll, look at that.
Anyway, some of what appears in these lists are things I’ve never held in concrete thoughts before now (I usually pushed them away), let alone articulated to myself, and certainly not to anyone else. There are things here even I didn’t know I was carrying around.
Deep breath as I prepare for a vulnerability hangover...
I wish I didn’t have to…
Watch what I eat and calculate carbs for every food and drink I want to consume
Check my blood sugar
Take insulin
Take thyroid medication
Take statins to manage my cholesterol to prevent heart attacks
Worry about the impact of diabetes on my eyes, kidneys and peripheral nerves
Spend (lots of) money on drugs and supplies
Carry around testing equipment and pump supplies, including insulin that needs to be climate controlled, so it can’t be left in a car, or the sun, or outside
Carry around food...just in case
Plan EVERYTHING
Deal with high blood sugar
Deal with low blood sugar
Get regular bloodwork done
Explain that and why I feel awful
Feel awful: glassy-eyed, foggy-brained, headachy, irritated, shaky, sweating, upset tummy, lethargic, muscle spasms, blurred vision, unable to stay awake, unable to stay asleep...
Be responsible ALL THE TIME
Worry about how and where to dispose of sharps and all the plastic that my supplies are made of or packaged in
I wish I could…
Eat whatever I want whenever I want
Do whatever I want whenever I want without planning
Be spontaneous
Be irresponsible
Be disorganized
Still have fingerprints on my testing fingers
Easily get rid of excess weight due to insulin use
Drive without worrying about blood sugar
Travel without being swabbed and explaining my kit and supplies to border agents
Travel without my kit and medical supplies taking up so much space in my bags
Exercise without passing out
Spend money on things I want, not things I need
Swim or be in a pool, lake or hot tub without fear of losing or damaging my $7000 insulin pump...or someone walking away with it
Be in the sun without worrying about how hot my insulin is getting
Not think about it all the time
I’m angry that…
I have to spend so much money on treatment
I don’t qualify for some insurance because of diabetes
Health insurance doesn’t cover very much of my treatment or supplies and I have to renew my coverage each year with a doctor’s note (because maybe I cured it in the past year??)
Insurance coverage for insulin pumps and continuous glucose monitors is based on your existing “performance” and having achieved a particular level of (good) control, rather than being seen as vital tools to result in better management
People feel entitled to comment on my food or treatment choices
I’m limited in my choices -- lifestyle, career, daily activities
I always have to consider the impact and repercussions of a choice
I can’t ever NOT think about it
I’ve got scar tissue all over my body from 40 years of injects and pump insertions
A lot of other people have it easier and take so much for granted...and complain about their lives!
I simply can’t do certain things safely
My mood is impacted by my blood sugar
I had to grow up fast and be responsible as a kid -- I feel like I missed out on a lot of childhood fun
Even when I plan and do all the “right” things, things don’t work out -- I can’t participate in regular fitness activities, or training programs or even a meeting or walk or running an errand or going to sleep because my blood sugar makes it unsafe
I regret…
Not paying attention to weight gain and preventing it
Not believing I was capable of having a healthy pregnancy, and waiting so long to get pregnant the first time, and having a miscarriage during my final attempt at having a second child, and then that window was closed
The impact my diagnosis had on my original family -- stress, expenses, doctors appointments, time and energy focused on me and not my three siblings
Beating myself up for “bad” blood sugar readings and spiralling into depression at various points in my life
Trying to figure it all out myself
Believing what I was told when I was a kid by doctors and well-meaning family members and letting those beliefs inform my choices
Not knowing more than I did in the past
I worry…
That I’ll lose my independence and ability to manage my condition myself
I’ll be a burden to my spouse and child as I age
I won’t have quality healthcare as I age
I will be stuck in a care home with inadequate caregiving and my condition won’t be managed well and I’ll experience horrible complications and poor quality of life
I won’t be able to afford my drugs and supplies as a self-employed person, and as I age
I will need to get a soul-crushing job just to have adequate healthcare benefits to pay for my treatment
I will miss something in my treatment and a complication will arise
That my child will inherit it and have to live with it too, or their offspring will (if they have any)
Deep breath again.
Cheerful stuff, right?!! You’re welcome for brightening your day! Blurgh…
So what’s the point of acknowledging these heavy emotions?
The Lessons
Well, what I learned from this exercise is that grief is commingled with lots of other emotions, ranging from anger to love to empathy to fear, and untangling them is messy and takes time. And that’s okay. That’s where the learning is.
I learned that acknowledging the losses -- real, physical, anticipatory, psychological, ambiguous, or otherwise -- is healing. Holding them out, with the benefit of distance and simply observing them allows us to see them for what they are: Experiences. Data. Information. What we do with that is up to us.
I learned that grief is about acknowledging what is, allowing what it brings up, and finding acceptance in its existence. When we stop pushing against what is, we can find peace through acceptance, and life can flow more easily.
Grieving is an act of courage. It takes real commitment to ourselves and others to be willing to look into the darkness, the discomfort, the hard stuff and seek our way through.
I learned that the thing we might be grieving is not the only thing that defines us. Several years ago, working with a different and equally brilliant coach, I made the profound distinction in how I describe myself. I used to say, “I am diabetic.” Now I say, “I have diabetes.” It’s a subtle shift in how I saw myself and this condition. It is not all of me, and I am more than it.
I learned that being witnessed in my grief is validating and empowering. For me to show up as my fully expressed self, I can’t hide away this part of me, and the impact it has on how I move through life. To avoid it, or resist it, actually gives it power over me. By integrating it, claiming it as a beautiful part of what makes me, me, I gain power over it.
Your Challenge
What part of your life -- a chronic condition, a scary diagnosis, a loss experienced because of COVID or something else -- might you choose to grieve so you can claim it and integrate it? (Hint: Look for the pain: What’s the love or longing beneath it?)
What might your responses be to these prompts:
I wish I didn’t have to…
I wish I could…
I’m angry that…
I miss…
I regret…
I worry...
I’d love to witness you in your grief. Feel free to share what you discover, and the lessons grief has taught you.
And, if you want help processing it, and building mental fitness techniques to ease the emotional burden of a chronic illness (including the grief that comes with it), check out my upcoming program, Positively Chronic. If you know someone who’d benefit from participating, please share it with them.
And, as previously promised, in my next post I’ll share the gifts I’ve gained because of my chronic condition. It will be way more uplifting. For sure.
Thanks for hanging in there and witnessing my grief, friends.
Raw Truths about Living with Chronic Illness
Here’s what I’m learning from others who manage long-term illnesses. By sharing truthfully, we can create connection and understanding.
I’ve been sitting in heightened awareness of my chronic condition (Type 1 diabetes) recently. I’m in the process of changing my insulin delivery method and have to learn a new system and technology. I’ve been working with my coach to really be with the grief that accompanies a long-term illness...particularly, the sorrow for what might have been, and acknowledgement of how taxing it is to carry all the things I’ve had to suck up and figure out and swallow just to get through each day as best I can...without complaining, because someone’s always got it worse, right? (More to share on that in the future.)
Why? I’ve been building a program to support others in managing the mental load of living with a chronic condition. Several weeks ago I distributed a short questionnaire to gather perspectives that are different and broader than my own from others managing long-term conditions. Many of you shared it with someone in your life who fits the bill, or even responded yourself. I have been humbled to read your comments.
I have been struck by the raw truths that have been shared, and I’ve been lucky enough to have some deeper conversations with some of you, too. Again, thank you. I’ve collected some of the themes I’ve heard -- no matter the illness or condition, how long ago the diagnosis was, no matter the age or gender or nationality of the person dealing with it -- that we all seem to experience to some degree.
Here are six things I’m learning make us more alike than different:
Isolation
This one is huge and universal. Feeling separate from or misunderstood creates distance and impacts our sense of belonging, which is critical to wellness. I’m hearing that feelings of isolation are also experienced by partners, parents, adult children and caregivers. And, these feelings have been compounded during COVID, especially if the person has a suppressed immune system or is at higher risk of contracting the virus, or living in a ”hot spot.”
2. Invisibility
Whether we like to admit it or not, there’s a hierarchy of “acceptable” suffering, understanding of and support for different conditions…and boatloads of stigma.
Consider this: Someone announces they have cancer -- fundraising pages spread like wildfire, meal trains appear, support flows readily and openly. Someone announces they have chronic pain or a mental illness -- silence, avoidance, and even lack of access to treatment. Not in all cases, of course, but frequently there is a different response to different illnesses.
Many illnesses are invisible to the untrained eye, and those of us that live with them often experience skepticism and judgement when symptoms arise or treatment is required. For many managers of chronic illness, the added role of advocacy and educating becomes part of the necessary management plan: convincing family, workplaces, even medical professionals that their symptoms are real and legitimate; explaining that this is the impact of a symptom or treatment and validating the need to be off work, or to avoid crowds, or to not be able to drive right now. There’s a special skill we develop, as women in particular, seeking diagnosis and treatment for pain-related or obscure conditions especially. As one respondent shared: keep your emotions in check; be rational and pragmatic; don’t imply a sniff of mental illness or you’ll be revisiting the 1800s with labels like hysteria bandied about. Advocating becomes a full-time job with a chronic illness diagnosis. Like we need more to do.
3. Being a burden
Feeling like a burden came up as a universal worry for those of us managing long-term illnesses. No one wants to feel dependent or incapable or like we’re asking for special treatment or help or not pulling our weight. One respondent shared that it’s especially frustrating when you’ve been a high capacity, high performing, capable person all your life, and that’s diminished by physical and mental symptoms. There’s a corresponding loss of self-esteem. Feeling like a burden to our partners, caregivers, even workplaces and healthcare teams weighs heavily on our minds and hearts, and often leads to more internalizing, less expressing our needs and more carrying the load alone.
4. Appearing okay (or explaining why we aren’t) is exhausting
As someone dealing with a flare up, a symptom, or impacts of treatment that make our days challenging, sometimes we choose to lie when asked how we are. Sometimes it’s just easier to say “Fine” or “Okay” or “Great.” It is exhausting to both try to appear to be okay when we aren’t -- put on a brave face and show up for that meeting, or parent your child, or deal with your in-laws, and to alternately explain why we aren’t. No one wants to be a Debbie Downer, but sometimes it’s more truthful to say, “I’m in a lot of pain today” or “I’m really struggling with my blood sugar management right now” but often when we share truthfully, we either find that folks don’t want to hear it after all, or they question us, armchair doctor us or want to compare our condition to someone else they know. None of that is helpful. For many of us, keeping to ourselves and avoiding others feels safer and less energetically and emotionally depleting. And….cue the feelings of isolation.
5. Decision fatigue
Those of us managing chronic conditions are overwhelmed by all the extra considerations and to-do’s that come with our illnesses. Remembering to take medications, monitoring symptoms, analyzing energy levels and choosing whether or not to go out in public...to name just a few. In the case of diabetics, a study in 2014 by Stanford University found that Type 1 diabetics make around 180 health-related decisions a day, on top of all the other decisions we make as adults, like what to wear, which route to take to work, and what to add to the grocery list. Carrying this additional mental load of considerations is exhausting. This is a huge weight in the backpack of our condition that we never get to set down.
6. Big emotions
Three big emotions are prevalent in chronic condition managers: frustration, fear and grief. Frustration that things are this way; that treatment isn’t working; that side effects happen; that people don’t understand; that our lives aren’t what we envisioned them being. Frustration that I can’t work the way I want to, I can’t enjoy activities I used to, I can’t participate fully in my life.
Fear is ever-present in the life of someone managing a long-term illness. Some of the sentiments I heard from respondents are: What if I lose my independence - the ability to feed, dress, bathe, toilet, drive, speak for myself? What if I can’t live in my home any longer? What if my friends and family stop checking in or can’t or won’t help me any more? When is the next flare up or bad test going to come? What are the side effects of this treatment, and will they be worse than the disease itself? What if I develop complications? What if my life is shortened because of this? Fear can lead to spiralling thoughts of hopelessness and overwhelm, which can impact our physical symptoms and effectiveness of treatments, which can lead to more fear as we see ourselves declining.
Grief is also showing up big time -- grief for who we used to be, what our lives were like, and who we might have been, and what our lives might have been like without our condition. A respondent shared that she’s lamenting the fact that her young daughter will never know or see her mother as fully independent because the diagnosis came when her daughter was quite young. Her daughter will only ever know her as in pain and unable to participate fully in life. Carrying grief can cause more physical symptoms to arise. Oh great.
Conclusion
I realize that’s a fairly depressing list to read. It’s true.
But I think it’s important to share truthfully about what it’s like to live with a long-term condition -- the heavy backpack we can never set down. Once we can empathize with another person’s experiences we can create deeper connections, understanding and meaningful solutions. I also make up that all of us, even those without the ongoing management of a chronic condition to worry about, experience these feelings some of the time.
What do you think? Does any of this ring true for you? Has your empathy been activated by reading this, or not? We often don’t consider what it’s like to walk a day in someone else’s shoes, or roll a day in someone else’s chair, until we absolutely have to. Consider this an invitation to try.
What’s next? I’m continuing conversations with more people over the coming weeks, and have almost finished designing a group program to start in January to help with the mental load of managing chronic conditions. And in my next post, I’ll be sharing some of the lessons and personal growth and even celebrations (yes!) I’ve heard from respondents, because of their conditions.
Until then, permission to sit in the muck of it. Feel what it feels like to live with an added burden, responsibility or challenge. Grieve the life you might have had, if not for this condition. I invite you to sit with, walk with or write in response to these prompts:
I wish I didn’t have to…
I wish I could...
I’m angry that…
It’s not fair that…
I miss…
I regret…
I grieve…
Take care of yourselves and each other, and reach out if you need support.
Living Positively with Long-term Illness
Living with a chronic condition can feel like
an uphill hike that never ends
with a heavy pack you can never set down.
At least, that’s how it feels for me. For almost 40 years, I’ve been living with Type 1 diabetes.
That means since I was a kid, I have had to:
test my urine and blood sugars multiple times a day (and night)
calculate and inject insulin to match my food intake
plan every meal and anticipate every episode of physical exercise
make sure my blood sugars are in a safe range before I get behind the wheel, get the mail, or go to bed
deal with the impacts of illness, stress and hormones on blood sugars
carry extra food, testing equipment and pump supplies with me at all times
attempt to prevent or delay long-term complications, like vision loss, nerve damage and diminished kidney function
manage common “companion” diagnoses, like hypothyroidism, high cholesterol, migraines and depression
And don’t even get me started on all the extras if you want to become or stay pregnant, deliver a baby or breastfeed!
And those are just the physiological implications of diabetes.
There’s also the stress and burden of added expenses for medications and supplies (many of which are not covered by insurance “providers”); being uninsurable on my mortgage; paying higher premiums for other insurance because of my “pre-existing” condition (despite the fact I’m healthier than much of the population); the missed work and lowered productivity due to medical appointments and impacts of too high or too low blood sugar; the unwanted commenting on what or how much I’m eating by people who feel entitled to provide their “expert” opinion; and the reprimanding, tsk-tsking and occasional encouragement (followed quickly by “but, you could do better”) from my actual medical professionals over the years. So fun!
Rant over.
I share this not to complain, but to inform.
So many of us who manage ongoing illness look “normal” on the outside, yet we feel both compromised on the inside (and keep on keeping on despite it) and carry an enormous burden of additional considerations, decisions and stress.
I know I’m not unique, and I also know I have it a lot better than a lot of people. In fact, almost half (44%) of Canadians over the age of 20 will experience one or more of the 10 most common chronic conditions (diseases or conditions that are considered treatable, or manageable, but not curable) including hypertension, cancer, heart disease, diabetes, mood disorders, arthritis, osteoporosis, asthma, COPD and dementia, not to mention other common long-term conditions like multiple sclerosis, effects of stroke, Alzheimer’s disease, HIV/AIDS, Parkinson’s disease, lupus and good old chronic pain.
It is well-documented that people with chronic illnesses have an increased propensity to also suffer from mental illness, including increased stress, anxiety, depression and feelings of isolation, and for diabetics, sometimes even eating disorders and suicide.
“A strong association exists between various chronic medical conditions and an increased prevalence of major depression. ... This association may result from physiological changes associated with these conditions, such as changes in various neurotransmitters, hormones and the immune system, or from associated disability and poor quality of life. In addition, some medications used to treat physical illnesses tend to cause depression. People who cope with more than one medical condition may be at particular risk for depression.” Source
And in the case of diabetes, in particular:
The prevalence of clinically relevant depressive symptoms among people with diabetes is approximately 30% (40–42). The prevalence of MDD {Major Depressive Disorder} is approximately 10% (43,44), which is double the overall prevalence in people without a chronic medical illness. The risk of developing MDD increases the longer a person has diabetes (45). … Depression in people with diabetes amplifies symptom burden by a factor of about 4 (49). Episodes of depression in individuals with diabetes are likely to last longer and have a higher chance of recurrence compared to those without diabetes (50). Episodes of severe hypoglycemia have been correlated with the severity of depressive symptoms (51,52). Major depressive disorder has been found to be underdiagnosed in people with diabetes (53).” Source
So, what to do? Does managing a long-term illness automatically mean you have to live stressed out, worried, and exhausted from the extra load? Does a diagnosis mean your quality of life will be forever diminished?
Not necessarily.
Not if you choose to live as fully as you can. Not if you choose to thrive, despite a diagnosis.
But how?
It’s not enough to want something, right? That doesn’t make it magically so. We are not Jean-Luc Picard.
I didn’t always have a healthy positive outlook on my condition. At times, I railed against it, denied it, ignored it and sank into depression about and because of it. I tried counselling, medication, exercise, group programs, journalling, coaching, reading, meditation…all the things.
What helped? I cobbled together a made-for-me toolkit consisting of bits and pieces from various supports and sources over the years, until I found the thing that really worked: getting a cancer diagnosis.
(I’m not recommending you go get yourself a cancer diagnosis! I hope you never have to experience that.)
Okay, so maybe it wasn’t the diagnosis itself that helped me shift my thinking; it was the gift that diagnosis gave me. Stay with me here.
When your life is on the line, your priorities and choices become crystal clear. Your bullshit meter flips into high gear and you suddenly have permission to give zero f*cks about things that really don’t matter, and pour your energy and attention into the things that do. And, one of the most impactful things we can choose is our attitude.
I chose to look for the gift in my cancer diagnosis, and in the rest of my life, including my long-term illness. I chose to approach life with gratitude and appreciation, with joyful curiosity and humour. I started seeking, finding and living my silver linings.
Now those of us who approach life this way are often chastised for being “too positive” or Polyannas or even “toxically positive.” What I’m describing is not any of that.
This outlook on life — that there is a gift or opportunity in every situation, experience and circumstance — doesn’t downplay or ignore the shittiness of situations, experiences and circumstances. A critical first step is in noticing what is (good or bad), and acknowledging it, rather than ignoring it or rushing past it. Once we name what is and sit with it, then we can shift our perspective to find the gift, and from that, we get to choose to see life differently. Our attitudes shift as we literally rewire our brains.
I didn’t know how to explain this or describe this or back this up until this year. I knew I had found a way to lessen the mental and emotional impacts of managing a long-term illness, and that I had something that would help others, but I didn’t have the language to convey it.
Earlier this summer, I participated in the Positive Intelligence program for coaches. Finally, here was a plain-language, clear framework and a practical process, backed by research in neuroscience, psychology and performance science, to help people shift from negative thinking to positive thinking, in a way that lasts.
I’m so excited to have found this program. It feels like the key that is unlocking my ability to offer a real solution to people, like me, who are weighed down by the heavy pack of managing a chronic illness, on top of all the other stuff life piles on us (especially this year!).
So, I’m busy working to adapt the Positive Intelligence (TM) method, and all my other training, tools and insights from over the years, into a mental fitness program specifically for people managing long-term illnesses. If this is you or someone you know, I’d love your/their feedback on what your/their experience is like.
You can respond to this short confidential survey that will help me fine-tune the program.
If you’re interested in learning more about this program (which will launch in January 2021), you can let me know.
I know my life has changed dramatically in so many meaningful ways since I shifted my attitude and outlook, and I want that for you, too. You deserve to live fully and experience joy and happiness, and be able to bounce back from those “bad” days more easily, even if you’re living with a chronic condition. I would love to teach you how.
Resilience, Now More Than Ever
We’ve come through half a year of uncertainty caused by this pandemic. Right now, many of us are experiencing “the dip” or “hitting the wall:” a normal, to-be-expected time of depleted physical, emotional and mental energy. One of the tools that can help us through this and other challenging times is our old friend, resilience.
We’ve come through half a year of uncertainty caused by this pandemic. Right now, many of us are experiencing “the dip” or “hitting the wall:” a normal, to-be-expected time of depleted physical, emotional and mental energy. It happens in other endeavours of life -- the most common example is running a marathon (mile 20, anyone?). Even in the coaching certification I completed, we were warned to expect “the dip” somewhere between weeks 12 to 20 and given strategies to work through it in order to complete the program. One of those tools that can help us through this and other challenging times is our old friend, resilience.
Resilience Defined
A typical definition of resilience is the ability to recover from adversity, setbacks or surprises. I like the image of riding a wave, like a surfer: when we can surf the ups and downs of life, we build strength and skills to help us stay on top of the wave, and to get back on the board when we wipe out. Like a wave, we can’t control what happens in life; all we can do is react or respond.
A key additional aspect of resilience I like to focus on is the ability to both deal with and integrate change and continue to move forward.
When we can be with and learn from and adapt to adversity, change, loss, risk and uncertainty, life can feel, well, easier.
It’s this “bounce-back-ability” that can lessen our strife and suffering, and allow us to see and enjoy the gifts of life, despite the obstacles that may (will) appear in our path.
Building Resilience
The great news about resilience is that it’s like a muscle that can be strengthened. Yes, one person may be born within a particular set of circumstances and brain wiring that allows them to be more resilient when faced with (relative) hardship; AND, there are practices we can, uh, practice to build our resilience muscle’s bulk, which can lead to less severe plummets when that hardship appears, and result in quicker recovery.
Building resilience is a process of continuous growth. You may never be done, but you can keep getting better at it.
Resilience depends both on inner and outer resources to be properly nourished and bolstered. The internal conversations, beliefs and resourcefulness we have can be trained, and are supported by external factors, such as our web of social supports, access to stabilizing services and other environmental factors, such as political stability, access to healthcare, safe housing and education, to name a few.
It’s different for everyone, given that we’re all born into different families, communities, countries and varying levels of financial and social safety and privilege. And, like our inner resources, these outer supports can be collected and strengthened, too. This is where our communities (in all their forms) can be one of the most critical aspects of resilience -- some say, the most important. We’ve certainly seen suffering increase when we are unable to be with our community, or or lacking in community.
So, as we continue to figure things out and roll with the waves for the coming many months, and especially with winter just around the corner in the Northern Hemisphere (which can bring its own physical and emotional challenges to many of us), here is a process to follow to help receive adversity, integrate it and build your resilience: my 4 A’s of Resilience Building.
Step 1: Acknowledge
When something bad or unexpected happens, what is your typical response? Do you acknowledge it, or ignore it or just try to get past it as quickly as possible?
There’s real value in taking a moment (or a week) to acknowledge what is. When we avoid or resist something, that thing has power over us. Ever heard the line, What we resist, persists? That. Ever told yourself to NOT focus on something? That.
However, when we take time to name what is, we deflate some of its power and intensity. The ability to be with what is, is a powerful skill and vital to building resilience.
So, when the next challenge, obstacle or disappointment happens, because it will, take some time to ask yourself these questions:
What impact does this event, information or change have on me – emotionally, physically, logistically, financially, relationally, spiritually?
How do I feel about it? (and actually feel those emotions in your body)
The next step is to name it. Here are some of the things I’ve heard myself say or think over the past six months:
This sucks.
This is hard.
This isn’t what I planned.
I didn’t ask for this.
I feel powerless.
I’m afraid.
I’m upset.
I’m heartbroken.
I don’t know what to do.
F%ck. F%ckity-f%ck-f%ck.
Please, please, please DO NOT SKIP THIS STEP! If you don’t acknowledge what’s happened, it will keep nudging you in different ways until it gets your full attention. Deal with it now, so you can integrate it and move forward. The only way out is through, baby.
Step 2: Accept
The next step in the process is easy: Accept what is.
Hahahahahahahaaaaaaa! Right?! Because we’re so great at accepting things that are out of our control, that we don’t like or feel scary.
Truthfully, this step can stump the best of us, and can take some time. Here’s a distinction that may help:
Accepting something doesn’t mean you condone what happened or is happening; it just means you accept that you can’t change that it happened or is happening.
When you accept what is, you free up your energy to focus on what you can control (your response to the obstacle, challenge or loss).
Acceptance can require a mindset shift to move out of resistance, and it can take some practice. Some helpful things to tell yourself might include:
Change is inevitable.
This too shall pass.
I cannot control what happened/is happening to me; I can only control my response to it.
I can do hard things.
Two tools for helping adopt an accepting mindset are gaining perspective and activating your Sage.
To gain perspective, notice that you are in the immediacy of your life. You are living in this moment, right now. Then, imagine riding in a helicopter that zooms up to a 50,000-foot view of your life. This six-month, or one-year, or even two-year period can be seen as a blip (a difficult, challenging and unwanted blip, yes) in the full horizon of your life. The average lifespan for Canadians is 80 years (males) and 84 years (females). So even two years of mask-wearing and social distancing constitute only 2.5% (males) and 2.4% (females) of your life. To put that into perspective, you spend more of your lifespan sleeping (up to 30%), at work (16%) or eating (5.6%)*.
Sometimes taking the longer view can provide context and lessen the urgency of the immediate situation. (Obviously, if your health or a family member’s health or livelihood has been directly impacted by COVID, this ‘blip’ carries a much different weight.)
Another option is to activate your Sage mindset. This concept is popularized in Shirzad Chamine’s Positive Intelligence(TM) research and program. Your Sage is the wise, compassionate, knowing part of yourself and is oriented to look for the gift in each experience. The Sage stands in the belief that every experience or circumstance can be a gift, no matter how awful, scary or negative that experience or circumstance is.
Now, some people are naturally wired this way (I’m one of them -- I see silver linings in everything) and others find this perspective incredibly challenging and are highly skeptical of it. I encourage you to consider it as an helpful tool to build resilience. To do so, there are three inquiries that can help activate your Sage:
The first is based on the gift of knowledge:
What knowledge would I need to gain so the outcome is better than this moment?
What will I know (or know how to do) in the future because of this experience?
An example during the pandemic might be that you learned how to use online meeting software to continue to perform paid work, and subsequently you connected with family and friends through it to maintain social support.
The second is based on the gift of power:
Which of my Sage powers (skills, traits, characteristics) must grow to handle this?
What is the gift of that power growing?
Again, a pandemic example might be that your compassion for front-line essential services workers, those living in care facilities and service industry workers who lost income grew. The gift is that you are more compassionate toward everyone now.
And the third is based on the gift of inspiration:
What inspiring action can I take that would never have occurred to me if this “bad” thing hadn’t happened? The action itself becomes the gift.
A ready example of inspired action is the production of masks by home-based fabric artists to fill the need for non-medical masks at a local level. These folks would never have created and shared patterns, mass-produced colourful and comfortable masks had the pandemic not presented the need.
Accepting what is, especially when it is bad and long and full of uncertainty, is difficult. It just is. And, once you can begin to accept, you can move on to the next step of building resilience.
Step 3: Assess
Assessing is the step where you shift from reacting to responding. It’s when you begin to look forward and formulate a plan.
This step is about moving from uncertainty to possibility.
Typically, your emotional brain has been heard and managed and it’s time for your logical brain to step up to the plate, along with your heart-brain. In times of great strife, logic might take the lead; in times of lower stakes, you might let your heart run the show.
At this point, ask yourself the following questions to assess what you want and what you’re working with:
What do I want? Or, What’s the best I can hope for?
What do I have control or command over?
What are my choices?
What are my skills and capabilities related to this?
Who and what are my current supports? (This is where community and connection come in, so pay particular attention to this question, and the next.)
What additional supports do I need or want?
What will it take to get through this/make that happen?
What can I let slide right now so I can direct my energy to this plan?
Based on your assessment, formulate your plan of action. Then move on to the final step.
Step 4: Act
You guessed it: the final step is to take action. This action might be doing something or not doing anything, based on your needs, capacity and assessment. Maybe all you do is keep surviving. Maybe you focus on what you can take off your list of responsibilities. Maybe you reach out for connection with another human. This is not necessarily a time to take on more, or new, or big….unless it is, for you. Then have at ‘er.
One of my favourite frameworks for creating a realistic action plan that you can actually implement is to keep it simple by asking yourself these three questions:
What can I STOP?
What can I START?
What can I SHIFT?
Begin with the easiest first step, and build from there.
As this pandemic continues for the foreseeable future, circle back through the 4 A’s as needed to absorb new challenges that come your way. Because they will come. And, take note of how quickly you bounce back, or don’t. No judgement; only grace. Remember: We’re all doing the best we can with what we have available right now. That’s enough. You’re enough. We’re all enough. We’ll get through this.
And if you need help, reach out. Here are a few ways I’m offering it:
Thriving in Uncertainty: Weekly conversations to help you adult during these trying times. While the conversations are targeted to working parents, being either working or parenting is definitely NOT a prerequisite. All are welcome.
Mental Fitness Program (coming soon!): As a PQ Coach, I’ll be offering a 6-week mental fitness program to help you activate your Sage and dial down your Saboteurs. I’m working on the details over the next couple weeks, but if you’re interested in being notified when dates are announced, please be in touch.
One-on-one Life, Death and Leadership Coaching: If you’re looking for personalized support during this challenging time, contact me to discuss how coaching could help. I have flexible packages and offer a sliding scale to accommodate varying financial needs.
Additional reading and inspiration:
I love love love this article by fellow coach Jenny Tryansky about letting go of control: https://lifespeak.com/how-to-let-go-of-control-in-uncertain-times/
This piece by poet Maggie Smith in The Guardian offers a lovely perspective on living during the pandemic: https://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/2020/sep/11/pandemic-life-is-short-happiness
And here’s a beautiful exercise by WILLOW End-of-Life Education & Planning to assist with moving through difficulty: https://willoweol.com/an-exercise-to-help-you-move-through-turmoil/
*Here are some interesting perspectives based on how you spend your time (pre-COVID): https://www.huffingtonpost.com.au/2017/10/18/weve-broken-down-your-entire-life-into-years-spent-doing-tasks_a_23248153/
Self-Care Tips for Tumultuous Times
Whew! The kids are back at school! Or not? Are you home-schooling or remote learning or taking advantage of a hybrid offering? No matter which learning option you’ve chosen for your family, September signals a shift into new routines...during a very un-routine time.
Now, more than ever, we parents need to take care of ourselves.
We don’t know how long in-class learning will last...or how long we’ll muster our patience to support kids through online or home schooling. In this article, I’m sharing some tips to establish sustainable self-care for the long-term.
But first, what the heck do we mean by self-care?
Self-care has been sold to us as a once-in-awhile, luxurious (aka high-priced), extravagant indulgence, involving decadent pampering and treatments at fancy-schmancy spas and resorts, or solitary escapes to the shopping mall, or splurging on a new pair of expensive shoes.
What a pantload of crapola.
Self-care is really about meeting our basic needs so we can adult (it’s totally a verb -- to adult: function in a responsible way in society, often taking care of other humans, and contributing to community and a workplace/business; to get dressed every morning and ensure a household runs; to balance a bank account; ...you get the idea...). So what are our basic needs? I’m glad you asked. Here’s a list, in order of foundational to aspirational or complex, according to our old pal Maslow.
Physiological (things that are vital to our survival (as a species)): food, water, air, shelter, clothing, reproduction
Safety & Security (things that contribute to control and order): health, financial resources, physical safety from injury or harm
Social/Connection (things that support love and belonging): friends, family, romantic relationships, community groups and gatherings
Esteem (things that support feeling respected and appreciated): accomplishment, value, appreciation
Self-Actualization (things that support people becoming their best/highest selves): pursuit of meaning, fulfilling potential
An easily-digestible explanation can be found here and an examination of a potential updated list is here (you know, because we’ve learned a lot since 1943).
IT IS NECESSARY TO CARE FOR OURSELVES. Without caring for ourselves, we cannot be expected to care for others.
Self-care is the most responsible thing to do, and it isn’t always easy, especially if we are used to/happy to/obligated to put the needs and wants of others ahead of our own. It takes discipline to fill our own cups before finding, washing, drying, mixing the drink and filling the cups of others.
But Jilly, you say, I’m doing fine. I’m managing. It’s better/easier for me to make sure everyone is happy/fed/sleeping/clothed/has their homework done/vents about their day before I pay any attention to what I might need or want.
I repeat: What a pantload of crapola.
I know a lot of people, myself included, who can hang on by a quickly-unravelling thread for a long time, and then plummet to the depths of exhaustion, physical illness and mental burnout by believing that bullsh*t.
Take a moment, and see how many of these “neglected self-care” signals you check off:
Frequent (let’s be real, constant) irritability, resentment or lack of patience: feeling like you’re giving too much away and not getting enough (anything?) in return
Eating on the go and/or getting little nutrition: the majority of your diet consists of sugar, caffeine, carbohydrates, processed, empty and “convenience” foods
Isolation, numbing and escapism: you’re spending more time alone than normal (even during the COVID times), and numbing out by bingeing on TV, wine, food, exercise, video games, online shopping...
Difficulty getting to or staying sleep: racing thoughts, anxiety, excessive worry or concern
Physical manifestations: breakouts, muscle aches and pains, exhaustion or illness once you slow down or actually take a break or vacation
Here are some loving suggestions for creating and sustaining self-care practices so they become non-negotiables in your life, not annual indulgences.
Tip 1: Choose a Self-Care Mindset
We’ve all heard the lines…
You can’t pour from an empty cup; fill your own cup first.
Put on your own life jacket/mask before helping others.
You wouldn’t let your phone’s battery lose its charge; don’t let it happen to you either.
You gotta nourish to flourish.
Tend to your own garden before weeding your neighbour’s.
When it comes down to it, many of us don’t believe we deserve self-care. When we consider this logically, it seems ludicrous: of course I deserve food, water, air, shelter, to feel loved and respected and like my life has meaning. Imagine telling a friend or a child or a friend’s child they aren’t worthy of these basic needs. You’d never say that.
How can we switch this belief about ourselves? Maybe the example of preventive maintenance of a vehicle or home will help: Why do we get our oil checked and changed; our tires rotated and balanced and replaced when the tread wears down; our timing belt replaced? Why do we clean our gutters in the fall; replace shingles when they get blown off; repair leaks in the roof or foundation?
SO IT WORKS WELL NOW. SO IT’S WORKING WHEN WE NEED IT LATER. SO WE DON’T HAVE BIGGER (more expensive) PROBLEMS LATER.
Here’s another framing I particularly like:
If it helps to think of yourself as a house or a car or a bank account, then use it! If it helps to make a sticky note that says “I deserve care” and attach it to your mirror so you see it everyday, do it. If it helps to save all the self-care memes to your phone and look at them everyday, do it. Find one that speaks to you, and say it to yourself.
Over and over and over.
And over.
Until it becomes your inner belief.
Tip 2: Create (and Uphold) Healthy Boundaries
Boundaries are a way of saying YES to you and NO to what doesn’t serve you. What’s so hard about that?
Well, we live in a constant shouldstorm. Especially as parents.
A shouldstorm is the swirling spoken and unspoken, solicited and unsolicited, helpful and unhelpful cloud of expectations we and others place on ourselves.
When you hear yourself saying or thinking, “I should…” that’s a great signal to pause and check where that expectation is coming from. Here’s how:
Notice when you say or think “I should.”
Whose voice is saying it? Your own, or someone else’s?
If it’s someone else’s, consider if they actually matter to you, and if so, if their expectation is healthy, respectful and reciprocal. If yes, then move on to the next step. If not, shut that should down.
If it’s your own voice, ask yourself the same questions: Is this expectation healthy, respectful and nourishing or beneficial to me? If yes, proceed. If no, shut that should down.
Feel your answer in body. Our bodies don’t lie, so learn to listen for your body’s answer to the request for your time, energy or contribution.
If it’s a whole-body YES, then proceed.
If it’s a partial-body YES, then it’s actually a NO.
If you really can’t tell, flip a coin and see what your response is.
Claim and communicate your boundary in clear language, to yourself and to others.
Yes, I’m happy to help you.
Yes, I’ll be happy to help you when I am finished what I’m focused on right now.
No, I am prioritizing my health/energy/needs right now.
I need solitude for 30 minutes. Please respect my need and don’t interrupt me.
No. (It really is a complete sentence.)
Take stock of the shoulds in your life, and grab your umbrella to deflect them.
Tip 3: Renegotiate Roles and Responsibilities
The responsibilities we carry a working parents can have a huge impact on our self-care, so after you’ve established healthy boundaries, it may be (ahem, will be) important to renegotiate how things are going to be done and by whom in your household or workplace.
Set realistic expectations based on your energy, capacity and capabilities, and those of your housemates or workmates. Just because you’ve always been the one to plan meals, grocery shop and cook doesn’t mean it has to be that way always. Maybe your kids can take on a dinner a week. Maybe your partner does the meal planning and prep on alternating weeks. Maybe your team members take turns drafting minutes and action plans at meetings. Maybe your colleague attends the 12th Zoom meeting of the day so you don’t have to.
Remember that you can constantly renegotiate roles and responsibilities; it isn’t a once and done event. Try something for awhile and if it works, then keep it. If not, change it. As your family grows and evolves, just like your workplace, different members are able to take on new challenges and shift the burden of responsibility.
Tip 4: Create Easy, Repeatable Rituals or Habits
Once you’ve decided you want and need and deserve self-care, created healthy boundaries and redistributed responsibilities, it’s time to add or adapt supportive habits into your life. One of the easiest ways to add a healthy habit is to attach no- and low-barrier activities to everyday actions. Anchor these new behaviours to natural occurrences throughout your day, such as:
Waking
Eating
Toileting
Transitions between work and home life
Bedtime
For example, if you want to drink more water throughout the day, have a glass when you wake up, with each meal or snack, after you’ve used the washroom, when you shift focus at work or log off at the end of the workday, and before bed.
If you’d like to incorporate more movement into your day, make it as easy as possible. If you need to pack a bag of gear, get in your car, drive across town, find parking, get changed, do a workout, shower, get dressed, drive home...you’re less likely to do that every day because it’s inconvenient (unless you need to get out of your house, then flee, flee to the gym for solitude!). Instead, throw on your sneakers and do a lap around the block between calls, or run up and down the stairs three times when you wake, every time you eat, etc.
Start small -- with one deep breath, one minute of meditation, or another bite-sized amount of achievable healthy habit. Build as you go and be sure to acknowledge yourself for any and all progress, no matter how tiny it may seem. Remember: some is better than none.
Tip 5: Strive for Less
In North America, in particular, we are programmed to do and want and be and buy and achieve and produce and get and have more, more, MORE. Let’s shut that noise down.
Here’s your permission slip to write a permission slip to strive for LESS!
Take a moment (or an afternoon or a whole day) to essentialize those tasks, activities, commitments, responsibilities that are actually...essential. That means, if they didn’t get done or looked after, someone’s life is in danger. Now what’s on your to do list? Consider different aspects or categories of your life: financial, physical, emotional, spiritual, relational. Take a look back at those basic needs we started with.
A lot of what we fill our minds and days with is non-essential. Try it for just a day, doing only what is absolutely necessary. Notice how much space is created, how much time, how present you can be in each moment. This takes real discipline. It might mean your kids are in one extra-curricular activity instead of four. It might mean you turn off the TV after 30 minutes and instead take a walk or read something inspirational. It might mean turning off your phone at 6 p.m. and focusing on the people in your household, uninterrupted, from 6 to 10 p.m.
I do hope you’ve found some inspiration and motivation in these tips. Your challenge, should you choose to accept it, is to enact one or all of the following:
What one thing can you STOP as a sustainable act of self-care?
OR
What one thing can you CHANGE as a sustainable act of self-care?
OR
What one thing can you START as a sustainable act of self-care?
Once you’ve chosen, consider: What might get in your way? How will you stay accountable to yourself?
Need help? Feel free to reach out for a conversation or join my weekly support sessions for working parents: Thriving in Uncertainty.
Seasonal Shift
Can you feel it in the air? The shift from summer to fall? It’s riding on the crisp evening breezes and the slow-to-rise morning sun. Autumn approaches.
All of a sudden, it seems, summer is winding down. Our family has a little vacation planned for later this week. One last excursion to enjoy beaches and forests and views somewhere other than our cosy home, which has been our restaurant, classroom, boardroom, library and movie theatre for the past five months, since the pandemic changed how and where we go about our lives.
I love fall. I look forward to it every year. Cosy sweaters and long shadows. Leaves graduating from green to gold, rust and red. Soups and stews made from root vegetables and wholesome garden bounty. Ritual back-to-school shopping for stationary supplies. It feels like a shift inward, into being, from the doing and going and exploring and actioning of summer; a welcome return home.
Truth be told, I’ve always been more of a spring and fall person, and less of a summer and winter person. I prefer temperate over extreme. I prefer gentle transition to severe heat and jarring cold.
It reflects in the rest of my life too, I suppose. I’ve scaled back from being an overachieving Type A to a go-with-the-flow, moderately ambitious and much more balanced being. I’ve learned to slow down, to not take on too much, to discern and choose what’s most enlivening, most pleasing and most meaningful to pursue. I’m less black and white thinking, and more open and curious to the many sides of a story, and less likely to plant a stake for one side or the other. It’s been a long lesson with many bumps, and I believe I will keep learning it through the rest of my days.
What about you? Is there a season that represents your approach to life? Or, do you embrace each season’s energy as it comes?
Positive Intelligence (PQ)
In a few weeks, I’ll be finishing up Shirzad Chamine’s Positive Intelligence training program. It’s been wonderful to connect with a cohort of coaches from around the world as we integrate the teaching and practices of this program to bolster our Sages and dial down our Saboteurs.
From the site:
Mental fitness is a measure of the strength of your positive mental muscles (Sage) versus the negative (Saboteur). This measure of your Mental Fitness is called PQ (Positive Intelligence Quotient).
Just like your physical fitness, you can build your mental fitness by strengthening the “muscles” of your brain to improve performance, increase happiness and build resilience to handle life’s ups and downs.
Interested in learning how PQ can impact your life? Ask me!
Offerings this Autumn
We don’t know what’s going to happen with COVID cases or potential treatments this fall, or the impacts those will have on school or work. We remain in a state of unknowing and uncertainty, and I suspect we will continue to make it up as we go along, based on new information that becomes available. It’s difficult to be in a constant state of flux, and that’s why I created Thriving in Uncertainty. It’s a weekly come-as-you-are coaching and community support group call.
No homework. No prep. No need to stash the kids in front of a screen while you join in. Just show up with the chaos of your life around you for confirmation that you are doing the best you can; inspiration to create clarity and calm; and validation that you’re not the only one struggling right now.
We begin tomorrow with Managing School Expectations (or as I’ve dubbed it, #returntolearn). There are drop-in options and monthly subscription options.
All the details are over here.
1:1 Coaching Packages
Fall is a great time to hunker down on a new project, or refocus to finish the year strong. I’ve got a few 1:1 coaching spaces opening up in September, so reach out if you want personalized support and help prioritizing yourself. I offer 4-, 6- and 12-month packages to meet your individual goals and aspirations, on a sliding scale. Reach out to discuss your needs and how coaching can help.
Want a personalized strategic planning session? I’m happy to offer Tune In Tune Up Deep Dive sessions again! I used to offer these sessions on my farm in Saskatchewan, and I’m excited to share them now that I’m on the island. This 1:1 focused session is typically delivered in 2.5 hours, and includes weekly accountability check-ins and a 30-minute follow-up coaching session one month later.
That’s all for now.
What else do you need as we head into autumn? What would support you to thrive, or feel productive AND restful? What permission can you grant yourself for what you need as you shift into autumn?
Be well,
Jilly