The Real Lisa Bain

The Wandering Widow

Grief Recovery Project

Top 5 Widow Lessons Learned: Year 3

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Language alert! Sorry, Mom. 

A Keeping It Real Post

Year 3
Made it! There were many days I didn’t think I’d survive this long. Back then, I never dreamed I could thrive.

Today marks three years since Dan died. Holy fuck, dudes! It feels like an eternity has passed (haha) since that awful morning where I watched him take his last breath. Today I sit here, back in England, where this nomadic adventure began. I’m looking in the rearview mirror in amazement at how far I’ve come. I continue to learn about the bereavement process daily but have narrowed down my top five lessons learned in this Widowhood reality. If you’re new to the W Club, I promise you it does get better. I won’t lie. It doesn’t get easier; we get better at coping with it.

Lesson 1: Sometimes Life is Shit For No Reason

One of my favorite memories of Ireland happened on my second visit to Killarney. For whatever reason I can’t remember, my last train wasn’t going to operate, so they loaded all of us on a bus to make the final leg of the journey. I was tired, but my seatmate cheered me right up. Sheila was beautiful and full of the wit and charm all Irish women have in spades. We chatted about our lives, our families, and our stories. But she said one thing to me that I will never forget, “sometimes life is shit for no reason.”

Whoah! I don’t know why this statement struck me as profound, but it was so monumentally important to me, I even wrote it into my first novel. After Dan died, I spent a lot of time screaming “Why?!?!?!” at the Universe, especially as that cluster bomb of losses continued to blow up. (If you’re new, my two-ish-year-long lousy country music song went something like this: my ex took his own life, Dad died, Dan died, my dog died, had to sue my snake of a builder, Mom started exhibiting signs of the Alzheimers, etc. Good times.)

Sheila helped me remember that sometimes, there is no Why. Sometimes life is just shit for no reason, and nothing we could have done would have changed the outcome. I still laugh when I think about that conversation and how it allowed me to let go of some of the anger that had been festering.

Lesson 2: Grief Hurts

Grief hurts physically. Few people will warn you that grief is an all-out assault on our bodies. The brain fog is just the tip of the bereavement iceberg. You may experience more illnesses and physical pain, as well as accidents.

Insomnia and malnutrition, both of which tag along for the grief party, exacerbate everything. I know, you probably won’t have much of an appetite, but try. When your friends and family ask what they can bring you, ask for vitamin and protein-packed smoothies or something similar. Try to protect your sleep hygiene and get as much sleep as possible.

As for self-medicating, I won’t lecture you on limiting your alcohol consumption since I dove face first into a bottle of bourbon every night for months.  What I will tell you is that the numbing is temporary, and it makes the physical pain worse. You’re a big girl. Do what you must.

Lesson 3: Time Really Does Heal

I wanted to throat punch people who said that to me, so understand if you newbies feel the same. But that doesn’t stop it from being true. Nothing will ever make me not miss him. And there isn’t a force on earth that could make me forget him. But time has dulled the pain, and I’ve gotten used to the scars.

These days I can walk through the moments leading up to his death. I can openly share what it was like to be a raw gaping wound, without reliving the pain. And I did finally reach the point where I was more interested in looking forward than looking back. Time helped me rediscover the joy in life; including laughter, love, and peace. In time, those will find their way back to you, too.

Lesson 4: It Takes A Village

You don’t have to do it alone. I’ve gotten pretty good at letting people in and asking for help when I need it.  That wasn’t the case three years ago, and I made things a lot more complicated than they needed to be. When you’re in crisis mode, it’s next to impossible to think of what you might need, so try to accept the offers of help. Get grief counseling. Talk about how you feel. Journal. Let someone babysit your kids. Whatever you need to do, don’t shut people who love you out of your life. Being a grease fire is okay, you don’t have to hide it.

Connect with other widows who understand your feelings, even if they haven’t walked your path. Let them love and guide you. Trust me; it will be all too soon before you’re the one helping another new widow get through it.

Lesson 5: There Is Beauty in All of It

Sunrise-Stonehenge
The sunrise will always symbolize the promise of the light to come. At least to me. The light and life DO return after the darkness of grief. I took this at Stonehenge last week.

If you had told me this three years ago, I would have told you where you could stick your advice. But here I am, a few years down the grief path, and I’m begging you to keep your eyes open for the beauty of it all. It’s there. You can find it in the sunrise, sunset, and unexpected rainbows. The love of those who stand with us in our worst possible moment brings beautiful light to the darkness. The friendship of those new people who come into our lives brings beautiful colors in hues that belong to us alone since they only know us as ME and not WE. Savor the beauty of the songs and memories that tug at your lips before tugging at your heartstrings. There is beauty in all of it. In time, you will find more moments of beauty than sadness.

How Far I’ll Go

Yes. Looking back, I can see how far I’ve come. It wasn’t pretty, but I made it. And I’m done looking back in that rearview mirror. It’s time to step on the gas and see how far I’ll go.

XOXO,
The Wandering Widow
Live Now. Dream Big. Love Fierce. 

Thank You

I’d be remiss if I didn’t take a moment to thank everyone who has been part of my journey: my family, and my friends, old and new. I couldn’t have done it without you. To all of you who continue to follow along, thanks for reading. And to the one and only Dan Bain, thank you for all of it. But mostly, thank you for loving me.

Post Soundtrack

How Far I’ll Go (Moana Soundtrack)

I’ve been staring at the edge of the water
‘Long as I can remember, never really knowing why
I wish I could be the perfect daughter
But I come back to the water, no matter how hard I try

Every turn I take, every trail I track
Every path I make, every road leads back
To the place I know, where I can not go, where I long to be

See the line where the sky meets the sea? It calls me
And no one knows, how far it goes
If the wind in my sail on the sea stays behind me
One day I’ll know, if I go there’s just no telling how far I’ll go

I know everybody on this island, seems so happy on this island
Everything is by design
I know everybody on this island has a role on this island
So maybe I can roll with mine
I can lead with pride, I can make us strong
I’ll be satisfied if I play along
But the voice inside sings a different song
What is wrong with me?

See the light as it shines on the sea? It’s blinding
But no one knows, how deep it goes
And it seems like it’s calling out to me, so come find me
And let me know, what’s beyond that line, will I cross that line?
The line where the sky meets the sea? It calls me
And no one knows, how far it goes
If the wind in my sail on the sea stays behind me
One day I’ll know, how far I’ll go

Source: LyricFind
Songwriters: Lin-Manuel Miranda
How Far I’ll Go lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group

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Grief Counseling and the Bereaved (aka Why I Keep my GC on speed dial)

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A Coping With Grief Post

As I was preparing to leave town for another trek across Europe, I got my usual frenzy of appointments on the calendar for my last week. One of those was with my grief counselor.  A friend of mine was surprised and asked why I was still seeing her. In her mind, since I was doing so great, I shouldn’t need to. I laughed. One of the reasons I’m doing so great is I continue to see her once or twice a year. You know, kind of like seeing the dentist? Both preventive and an excellent way to nip potential issues in the bud.

Those of you that are regular readers know I’m a huge proponent of the value of grief counseling. As we peel back the layers of that onion, we often uncover new levels of our grief, old traumas long buried, and all sorts of long-forgotten things. My grief counselor helps me work through those as they make their way to the surface. And my cluster bomb of losses ensured some of that emotional shrapnel was buried deep.

How It Works

Grief Counseling
I’ll forever be a Grief Counseling cheerleader.

Most insurance in the US pays for it. Most EAPs offer it. Some clergy will provide it, although their training is unregulated and inconsistent. Go with what feels right for you.

You’ll schedule an appointment. In your first visit, set the expectations of how the process is going to work. Don’t fool yourself into thinking one or two sessions will miraculously make the pain go away. The counseling helps to give us the coping mechanisms to deal with it, but it’s not a magic eraser.

If you aren’t connecting with your counselor, find a new one. You’re not under contract just because you saw them once or twice. Shop around. Ask other widows who they see and why they like them. If driving is an issue, look for a GC close to you. Don’t give up. (For example, due to my travel schedule, it was important to me to find a counselor that would work with me via skype or telephone.)

I’ve heard some widows say they can’t work with a counselor who isn’t also a card-carrying member of The W Club. I get that need for someone to truly understand your pain. But I view it a bit differently. I don’t need to have my arm chopped off to know it’s going to hurt. My very first counselor, through hospice, explained to me that while he hadn’t lost anyone to death, he’d experienced losses that broke him. That while he couldn’t understand MY pain, he did know pain. He wasn’t comparing our pain, so stop freaking out. He was doing his best to relate. That was enough for me.

And counselors have gone through years of training and study to help the bereaved. I love that my counselor listens to my feedback and has used it to help other Widows. She even reads my blog. (Hi, Kelli!) Can you see why I still see her? She takes my grief recovery and healing as seriously as I do.

Why I Still Go

My philosophy on why I have a grief counselor is the same as when I had a personal trainer, a sales coach, and any other mentor I’ve hired to help me be my best self. Sometimes we need that outside “coach” to help us along the way. I love her. She reminds me I’m doing a great job. She also calls me out on my bullshit, something only a small group of individuals has had the cajones to do since D died.

You’re Not Angry Anymore

In this last visit, my GC said something that caught me off guard. We were talking about how far I’d come, and when I told her I felt that I’d transitioned from healing to healed, she basically agreed and said that she didn’t hear any anger from me anymore.

Wait. What? Anger? I thought I’d gotten through the Widow Rage in Year One. Nope. She gave me examples as recent as six months ago, where I was still angry. A lot has happened since then, but forgiveness is a powerful thing. I could only laugh as I realized she was right. Her file notes provide an aerial view of the long and windy road that is grief recovery.

Sometimes, even when we think we’re all healed up, we’re really not quite there. And that’s why I still keep my GC on speed dial. I know life will continue to throw me grief curveballs as I hit new and unexpected milestones. Whatever you decide to do for yourself, please remember it’s never too late to get help if you want it.

XOXO,
The Wandering Widow
Live Now. Dream Big. Love Fierce.

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Reclaiming All the Colors: Project WE to ME continues in Hawai’i

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Thank you to everyone who reached out to make sure I was okay. I took a few weeks off to go on a much needed holiday. XO, L

A Grief Recovery Project Post

If you’re a regular reader, you’ve heard me describe the grief recovery process as peeling back layers from an onion, an ugly grey onion. Those onion’y tears sting. They also steal the colors of life from our eyes, pushing us into a grey limbo bordered by before and after.

Onion vs. Spiral

Nature loves spirals, like the ones you see in this tree fern at Keahua Arboretum on Kauai.

As more time passes, I’ve started to think the grief process is actually a spiral. The grief path circles further and wider but always brings us back to the point of origin. Each time we circle back around we experience that loss differently, with new eyes and a stronger heart, both of which see the colors we lost when our husbands died. This time my spiral has brought me back to my point of origin. Literally.

Gone Girl

I’m currently in Hawai’i, the land where I was born. It was here I learned how to be a human. Hawai’i is where Dan asked me to marry him. It’s also the place I gleefully left as soon as I graduated from college. I spread my wings and never looked back. Despite my family and friends here, if it weren’t for my baby cousin’s wedding, I can’t say that I’d have returned. And that would have been a colossal mistake. While every memory I have here includes the people I’ve lost, I’d have missed out on the opportunity to make new ones that were just mine.

Home

BirdOfParadise_Kaneohe_Hawaii
I love all flowers, but the ones from my home state will always be my favorites.

As a military wife, HOME was wherever our orders sent us. In the last two years of my traveling nomad life, HOME was wherever my suitcase was. And while I’ve recently established a home base back in Boise, I haven’t been tied to any one place in a long time; not since I left Hawai’i all those years ago. So imagine my surprise as I stepped off the plane and had every cell in my body screaming at me that I was home. HOME!

It’s difficult to explain if you’ve never left your hometown. I’ll do my best. First, my skin and hair started smiling at the humidity. Even my lungs were breathing easier. Was that the humidity or the sweetness in the air? The melodic singsong voices made my ears happy. And I can’t wax poetic enough on how good it felt to enjoy island food again. (PRO-TIP: Never get between an island girl and her food.) But the best part was the peace and joy I felt in my bones. HOME.

Project WE to ME

Sunset_Lahaina_Maui_Hawaii
I try to watch the sunrise and sunset every day. This one was postcard perfect.

Hawai’i is so vibrant it makes the rest of the world look washed out. Everywhere you look, life is set to vivid. The ocean is extra blue, the mountains extra green and the daily rainbows are just extra. Everything exudes a “no filter” kinda beautiful. I love that and was determined to treat my home state like any other place I visit, diving into the nooks and crannies of Hawai’i life. I desperately needed to remember both this place and who I was when I was a girl.

After traveling solo for the better part of two years, it was a special gift to have a dear friend join me for part of this visit. Showing her “my Hawai’i” let me see it through her eyes. I heard my long-buried accent resurface as I described growing up in this multi-cultural paradise, and enjoyed explaining the meanings of words and traditions, just like my Daddy used to when mainlanders or Japanese family would visit. I wasn’t sure if I still qualified as a kama’aina (local) or not, but it sure felt like it.

Prodigal Daughter Returns

Rainbow_HanaleiBay_Kauai_Hawaii
Ever touch a rainbow? This one at Hanalei Bay on Kauai was the lowest I’ve ever seen.

The Hawai’ian word for family is ohana and, to quote Lilo, “Ohana means family, and family means no one is left behind or forgotten.” The absolute best part of this visit has been my friends and family, who welcomed me back with open arms as if I’d never left. To them, I’m the same, even though I’ve changed. They love me no matter what. And that love is the best color in life.

Yeah, I’m home and in full color. I think I’ll stay awhile.

XOXO,
The Wandering Widow
Live Now. Dream Big. Love Fierce.

 

Post Soundtrack

Where I’m From, Eels

Three Ghosts and I, sitting on the couch last night
Catching up on all the time
It’s been a while since we got together and
You know that it’s often on my mind

So long ago, I left it in the dust, well I was so young and dumb
Ran far away, but I have to admit, sometimes I miss where I’m from

Let’s have a drink, to everything that we went through
It wasn’t always so bad
We can’t forget, each other’s company
And all of the good times we had

So long ago, I left it in the dust, well I was so young and dumb
Ran far away, but I have to admit
Sometimes I miss where I’m from

Three ghosts and I, sitting on the couch last night
Catching up on all the time
It’s been a while since we got together and
You know that it’s often on my mind

So long ago, I left it in the dust, well I was so young and dumb
Ran far away, but I have to admit
Sometimes I miss where I’m from

Songwriters: EVERETT MARK O / SAWITZKE MICHAEL DAVID

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Set Your Intentions

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“Such a simple concept, yet so true: that which we manifest is before us; we are the creators of our own destiny. Be it through intention or ignorance, our successes and our failures have been brought on by none other than ourselves.”
Garth Stein, The Art of Racing in the Rain

A Grief Recovery Project Post

Sometimes the Universe just slaps me upside my stubborn head until I learn the lesson it has assigned. Case in point: setting intentions. You remember my two weeks of hell in November, the ones that kick off the six-week holiday season? Well, they were an ass-kicker. I’m talking brutal lows that I haven’t felt in two years.

Setting Intentions

But it was pointed out to me, by someone I love and trust, that they were awful because I willed them to be so. Ummm, excuse me? I did no such thing. But the minute I started to get defensive, I realized the truth in what he was saying. Son of a biscuit eater! I DID will them to be awful, because I said they were going to be awful. I even call them my two weeks of hell! (Note to self: find a new description for this time period, stat!)

I can laugh about it now, but I actually hit a low point that had my finger hovering over the “confirm ticket” button on a flight back to Ireland. I knew that wouldn’t solve my problems, so stayed right where I was, but it sure was tempting. Instead, I chose the harder option and I adjusted my mindset about the looming Christmas holiday. I decided it would be whatever it would be, and I’d deal with it accordingly. Good or bad.

I Forgot

Somewhere along the way, my “No Boundaries, No Expectations” mantra must’ve fallen out of my suitcase on my way back to the US, because I instantly set all kinds of expectations the minute I got home. Including for the six-week milestone season I’d been dreading.

Christmas-Jammies
How can you not have Christmas Magic with family, lights, hot cocoa and matching Christmas jammies?

A Christmas Miracle

So how was Christmas? It was AMAZING! Major props go to Baby Sister for working overtime to make it extra special, but I could totally have screwed it up if I’d have set the intention it was going to be sad, painful and lonely without Dan. Instead, I set the intention that it was going to be whatever it would be, and I couldn’t wait to see what that was.

To my fellow bereaved, this isn’t a judgment on feeling the feelings of grief. Instead, it’s a reminder of how easy it is to get stuck, and how powerful our minds are when we tell them what to expect. I would have been equally okay to have been sad all Christmas, but because I didn’t limit myself to that expectation up front, I wasn’t sad. At all. Not once. I know, I’m shocked too.

Lesson Learned

I can’t make any promises that I won’t get stuck again, but I hope the next time I’ll be a little quicker to remember that when I set my intentions, and release those boundaries and expectations, it frees me to just live in the moment. And that moment might be pretty damned good.

XOXO,
The Wandering Widow
Live Now. Dream Big. Love Fierce.

The Christmas GRP:

You know I go all in on my Grief Recovery Projects, so here’s a quick breakdown of Operation Christmas.

1. Go home for Christmas

My first Christmas in three years needed to be at home. I had to force myself to return, but it was worth it.

2. Be Festive

This can be harder than it sounds, but I did it.  I went to places that were all peopley AND festive, including parties. I rocked dresses, ugly Christmas sweaters, and Santa hats. And I had a great time.

3. Eat Christmas cookies

Two of my friends are the most amazing cookie bakers on the planet. I’m happy to help them sample any and all recipes. I’ll be one of those dorks who joins the gym next week.

4. Go look at Christmas lights

Driving around town in our matching Christmas jammies on Christmas Eve, with hot cocoa and my favorite two-year-old, was a favorite moment. It reminded me of all the Christmases as a kid when mom and dad would drag us out to Candy Cane Lane and Honolulu City Hall to see all the lights. The Winter Garden Aglow paid homage to my last visits there with Dad and Dan. Wistful, but also beautiful.

5. Wear Christmas jammies

Y’all rock. After blogging about getting some, I had Christmas jammies show up in special delivery from both Santa and one of Santa’s amazing helpers.

6. Spend as much time as possible with friends and family

At the end of the day, it’s all about the people we love, and the time and experiences we share with them that matter. Thank you to everyone who made time in their busy holiday lives for me.

7. Christmas music

The boycott is over. I listened, I sang, and I Christmas music’d the F*out. And as for the singing, I didn’t say it was good, I just said I was all in. That’s right, that was me belting out Rocking Around the Christmas Tree at the top of my lungs in my car.

8. Honor traditions

Baby Sister dug my Christmas stocking and ornaments out of the trash pile when I left town a year and a half ago, and they were hanging up at her house when I got home. Some traditions are good. I’m grateful she had the foresight to rescue them, on the off chance I ever chose to do Christmas again.

9. Say His Name

I talked about favorite holiday memories of Dan and Dad, and didn’t cry! After Thanksgiving, where no one mentioned his name at all, I participated in the Hope For Widows Foundation “Say His Name” campaign this year. I know it’s scary to talk about the deceased because you don’t know how the bereaved will react, but it’s good to share happy memories of them. You aren’t reminding us they died. You are assuring us they are remembered.

10. The magic of Christmas

Waking up Christmas morning to have my little prince take a flying laughing leap off the stairs into my arms to see what Santa had brought was my absolute favorite moment. It’s true, kids really do help us see the magic of Christmas. Talk about No Boundaries, No Expectations.  Kids just show up and live in every magical moment as they happen.

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The Death Cafe

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“To the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure.”
~J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter & the Sorcerer’s Stone

A Grief Recovery Project Post

What happens when a grief and bereavement blogger walks into a Death Cafe? Sounds like the start of a bad widow snark joke, but that’s exactly what happened last week. I know, I may be a bit rusty on how holiday festivities work, but this is something I’ve wanted to check out for a while now, and the timing worked for me to attend while I was in Boise for the holidays.

Death Cafes

Library-Death-Cafe
The Library! provided a table with a selection of their books relating to death.

Right about now you may be asking, “Lisa, what the heck is a Death Cafe?” My dear reader, I’m so glad you asked. It’s an international movement to de-stigmatize the conversation about death and dying through local meet-ups. The Cafe is the event itself, not the place. The meetings have a facilitator, but the attendees drive the conversation. Oh, and there’s cake.

You know how I feel about shining the light on the ugly underbelly of grief and bereavement, so a Death Cafe seemed right up my alley. And I do like cake. So, on the appointed evening, I showed up at my local library for the Death Cafe I’d read about on Facebook.

Death Is Personal

As much as I write about grief and bereavement, I was a bit uncomfortable talking about death in a room full of strangers. Irrational, I know, since I can usually have a conversation with anyone about anything. But death is so…death-y. (Those of you that remember the time I was accused of having a grief blog that was too grief-y can imagine why this makes me laugh.)

And after having a front-row seat to Dan’s gruesome end, death also feels personal. Really personal. I mean talking about sex personal. My reaction is a prime example of why conversations like these are needed.

So, like most everything else in my life, I showed up alone. Seemed appropriate since that’s how we’re all going out. Alone. I arrived to find people of all ages, from all walks of life, and diverse spiritual and philosophical beliefs. The group size that night was unusually large due to recent media exposure, so we were broken into smaller circles.

First Rule About Fight Club

Death-Cafe
Frank conversations about death today can make tomorrow’s reality a little easier.

I can’t discuss anything that was said. The first rule about Death Cafe is, we don’t talk about what’s said in Death Cafe. (That was funnier in my head when I pictured Brad Pitt saying it, but whatever.) I can assure you that the room was full of kindness and a genuine willingness to both hear others and share if desired. It was a safe place to talk about a scary topic without judgment. And based on the number of people there, our society has a deep-seated need to talk about it.

I’m still processing everything I heard and felt, but would encourage anyone to attend. Just like grief and bereavement, we need to make the conversation about death one that is accepted in our culture.

To find a local Death Cafe in your area, visit DeathCafe.com, or @DeathCafe on Twitter. If you’re in Boise, Death Cafe Boise can be found on Facebook.

Oh, and if you decide to go, please drop me a line and let me know. I’m dying to hear what you think.

XOXO,
The Wandering Widow
Live Now. Dream Big. Love Fierce.

POST SOUNDTRACK

To Where You Are, Josh Groban

Who can say for certain
Maybe you’re still here
I feel you all around me
Your memories so clear
Deep in the stillness
I can hear you speak
You’re still an inspiration
Can it be
That you are mine
Forever love
And you are watching over me from up above

Fly me up to where you are
Beyond the distant star
I wish upon tonight
To see you smile
If only for awhile to know you’re there
A breath away’s not far
To where you are
Are you gently sleeping
Here inside my dream
And isn’t faith believing
All power can’t be seen
As my heart holds you
Just one beat away
I cherish all you gave me everyday
‘Cause you are mine
Forever love
Watching me from up above
And I believe
That angels breathe
And that love will live on and never leave

Fly me up to where you are
Beyond the distant star
I wish upon tonight
To see you smile
If only for awhile
To know you’re there
A breath away’s not far
To where you are
I know you’re there
A breath away’s not far
To where you are

Songwriters: Linda Thompson / Richard N Marx
To Where You Are lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc, BMG Rights Management

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