Navigating Loss E-Book

Heather Stang

• Herausgeber: CICO Books
• Kategorie: Ratgeber
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 227

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

Beschreibung

With these self-care and mindfulness practices, discover a path through the uncharted, invisible territory of grief and learn how you can change, grow and heal through the different types of losses in life. Grounded in author Heather Stang's expertise and heartfelt desire to relieve suffering, Navigating Loss explores the invisible, often minimised, nature of grief in a variety of losses, from ageing or illness to redundancy, estrangement or even seasonal loss. Find strength in the unseen through the practical actions of meditation, journalling, creativity and physical self-care as you cultivate presence to tend to your pain and honour your loss. This is your journey on your terms – a refreshing approach to grieving that which you no longer have – with the supportive tools, attitudes and insights necessary to find your way, embrace change and emerge with a deeper understanding of yourself and the world around you.

Leseprobe

Navigating

Loss

Navigating

Loss

Wisdom and self-care for times of grief and the challenges of life

Heather Stang

IN HONOR OF MARY THERESA DECKER 1964–2024

Published in 2024 by CICO Books

An imprint of Ryland Peters & Small Ltd

20–21 Jockey’s Fields

341 E 116th St

London WC1R 4BW

New York, NY 10029

www.rylandpeters.com

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Text © Heather Stang 2024

Design and illustration © CICO Books 2024

The author’s moral rights have been asserted. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher.

A CIP catalog record for this book is available from the Library of Congress and the British Library.

ISBN: 978-1-80065-379-5

E-ISBN: 978-1-80065-397-9

Printed in China

Editor: Emma Hill

Illustrator: Camila Gray

Commissioning editor: Kristine Pidkameny

Senior designer: Emily Breen

Art director: Sally Powell

Creative director: Leslie Harrington

Head of production: Patricia Harrington

Publishing manager: Carmel Edmonds

CONTENTS

PROLOGUE

A Journey of Loss and Healing

INTRODUCTION

What is Loss?

CHAPTER 1

The Rocky Terrain of Unacknowledged Loss

CHAPTER 2

The Language of Loss

CHAPTER 3

Mindful Tools for Your Healing Journey

CHAPTER 4

Tending to Your Grieving Body

CHAPTER 5

Mindfulness in Facing Difficult Emotions

CHAPTER 6

Navigating the Emotional Landscape with Compassion

CHAPTER 7

Writing Your Story

CHAPTER 8

Building Resilience Through Ritual

CHAPTER 9

Reorienting Toward Your Future

CHAPTER 10

Finding the Support You Need

CHAPTER 11

How to Help Others Navigate Loss

CHAPTER 12

The Global Landscape of Loss

EPILOGUE

The Path Ahead

References

Further Reading and Resources

Index

Acknowledgments

TABLE OF PRACTICES

Reflecting on Your Disenfranchised Grief

Charting Your Grief Timeline

Building Healthy Coping Skills

Somatic Yoga Therapy

Coming to Your Senses

Befriending Compassion

Revisiting a Familiar Story in a New Light

Marking Life’s Unseen Milestones

Reframing Loss

Crafting Your Story to Share

Supporting a Grieving Person

Metta Meditation

PROLOGUE

A JOURNEY OF LOSS AND HEALING

EVERYONE’S LOSS MATTERS

When my new husband and I were pronounced man and wife on the Sanibel Island beach, dolphins jumped out of the water. I am not making this up. It was a gift. A blessing. A sign, for sure, that the universe sanctioned our marriage.

Except, as you can imagine from the subject of this book, it wasn’t. Ten years later, we would divorce. It turns out that our so-called wedding dolphins were just doing basic dolphin things.

Because I love math, and statistics in particular, the fact that our marriage ended is not surprising. If I am honest with myself, the moment my future husband proposed, I felt not joy, but deep and foreboding dread. And yet, I said yes.

Growing up, I unconsciously learned that acting on instinct was unsafe; doing so would lead to being labeled difficult, unreasonable, or my favorite, histrionic. I was conditioned to do the opposite of what I thought was right. Saying yes when my body said no was a habit that had been deeply ingrained in me since my childhood.

This is why I ignored the alarm bells going off in my body the night he proposed. Instead, I focused on the attractive man holding the ring, asking me to be his wife, while floating on a gondola in Las Vegas, serenaded by a gondolier whose name tag said “Figaro.” I entered into a dreamlike state—one in which I could not say no.

So, I said yes to the fantasy. To the dream of happily ever after, of mattering to someone, of being able to love fully and to be fully loved. And on a deep unconscious level, the goal of the fantasy was to prove my father wrong. I wanted to show that I could be loved.

Ever since I can remember, I believed no man would ever want me, because this is what was demonstrated in both the words and actions of my father. I bought into the idea that I was too aggressive, too independent, too weird. When I was left with a scar on my knee from a bike accident, my father offered to take me for plastic surgery. Generous on the surface, perhaps, but followed with “You need to get that fixed because when you are older, men will walk by you on the beach and not give you a second glance.” I am not sure what made my thirteen-year-old self more frightened: the idea of surgery, foreshadowed rejection, or the fact that my father could be so hurtful.

When my fiancé and I returned home from Las Vegas, I slid into the role of happy bride-to-be with an outward ease masking inner anxiety. To be fair, I did love him. I wanted him to be my “ride or die”—my partner, best friend, and confidant. Once married, I did my best to keep the peace, denying the fear triggered by broken promises, gaslighting, and the financial infidelity that years later resulted in a tax lien on our house and my working three jobs to support an unsustainable lifestyle. I couldn’t imagine leaving, both because I loved my husband and because I wanted to prove my father wrong.

It took a particularly chaotic visit from my dad for me to realize that I wasn’t the whole problem. I finally saw clearly what my therapist had been telling me for years; that I was in a codependent relationship with, well, pretty much everybody. For two years my dad and I tried to repair our relationship, but finally I realized that we were just not healthy for one another.

“Cutting yourself off from a parent is, psychologically, a very big deal,” my therapist told me during a two-hour session, when I had read my dad’s and my letters back-to-back in chronological order. “Expect to grieve.” I asked my father for no contact, and grieve I did.

While deeply painful, and not something I entered into lightly, letting go of my paternal baggage created a healing space in my life. Once I dropped the story of not being worthy, wanted, or cherished, I was able to investigate the deep fissures in my marriage. And just as I had with my dad’s and my relationship, I tried to save Us. I wanted to save Us. However, as you already know, that relationship ended, too. More grief.

To many, my story may not seem particularly horrific. And that’s kind of the point. That’s the reason I’m sharing it. The types of losses I experienced—divorce, parental estrangement, identity, financial hardship, my home, stability, childhood innocence, betrayal, and the dream I had for how my life would unfold—are so common that they are often invisible not only to others, but to ourselves. Ubiquity, however, does not make any of these losses less painful.

My privilege is not lost on me. I know without a doubt that I have access to resources for navigating loss that many people in the world do not. All I can do is try to share what I’ve learned in my personal healing. My goal is to give life to my gratitude by acting from a place of service, reverence, and compassion to reduce suffering.

Everyone’s loss matters. Everyone’s pain matters. Everyone includes you. As you learn how to cope with the loss that led you to pick up this book, know that it is natural for present losses to intensify the grief of a previous loss.

Together, we will peel back the layers of this very human existence to get to what remains: your ability to do more than just survive. Whether you are learning how to live fully with your loss once more—or for the first time—you will learn to craft a future that resonates with who you want to be. Maybe this doesn’t feel possible right now, but one step at a time, you will arrive.

I am not saying that grief is a gift, though I do think it can be an invitation. You are in a place you do not want to be, otherwise you wouldn’t have picked up this book. What wouldn’t we trade to have things back to how we wanted them to be? But here we are, you and I and our grief. This book is my invitation to you to mindfully engage with the meaning you have for both what you’ve lost and what you have left.

As you walk with me on this healing journey, you will learn that joy and sorrow can coexist. While all beginnings have an end, those endings can lead to a new beginning. And as unwelcome as change is, the most significant growth, compassion, and meaning often blooms from our deepest pain. You will start to live again, and, eventually, create the life you want.

While this book is an inanimate object, please know that there is a real human on the other side of these words, wishing that you didn’t have to suffer, and I am willing to give you everything I know to help you navigate loss in the healthiest way possible.

Let’s begin the journey of finding the light in the darkness together.

With loving kindness,

Heather Stang

INTRODUCTION

WHAT IS LOSS?

A NEW PERSPECTIVE ON GRIEF

When I was earning my master’s degree in thanatology—the study of death, dying, and bereavement—I was taught that the word “grief” should be used only when discussing the “uncontrollable reaction” to the death of a living being. “Loss” was a more fluid term, general enough to describe both death and non-death loss alike. This distinction hinged on the concept of permanence. My teachers reasoned that you can always buy a new house, get a new job, find another partner, or even remarry a person you divorced, whereas death is irreversible. If any of this made you bristle, read on.

My perspective was challenged while attending the 2019 Association of Death Education and Counseling (ADEC) annual conference. Dr Darcy Harris, Professor and Thanatology Department faculty member at King’s University College in London, Canada, delivered a keynote advocating for more sensitivity toward non-death losses within our field. Harris’ interest in this subject began when researching couples going through infertility treatment.

She observed that even though the loss the couples were experiencing was the end of a dream rather than the end of a life, the language they used to describe their pain was the same language used by people grieving a physical death. This inspired her to research the intersection of non-death loss and grief theory, leading to insightful books including Counting Our Losses: Reflecting on Change, Loss, and Transition in Everyday Life (2011) and Non-Death Loss and Grief: Context and Clinical Implications (2020). Harris’ work advanced the application of grief therapies when supporting clients through non-death loss; it also serves as the foundation of this book.

The idea of opening the definition of grief up to include death and non-death loss was unsettling to me for personal and professional reasons. In my own narrative of love and loss, my deepest grief began with the deaths of my uncle, my stepfather, and our family dog Brandy. From a professional standpoint, my resistance stemmed from respect for my beloved thanatology professors, a deep desire to uphold their teachings, and the fact that, back then, I rarely questioned anyone in a position of authority.

I do not remember the exact words Dr Harris spoke in her keynote on Non-Death Loss and Grief, but I will never forget how I felt when she explained that adjusting to non-death losses could be just as unmooring as a death-related loss. This is because the impact of loss is shaped by individual circumstances. I remember sitting up straight, eyes wide, and tilting my head as tears filled my eyes and a deep sense of bittersweet understanding washed over my body. It was at that moment that I realized that my narrow view of grief had minimized my own very significant non-death loss: the estranged relationship with my father.

Harris defines loss as “An experience where there is a change in circumstance, perception, or experience where it would be impossible to return to the way things were before.”1 She likens it to a pane of glass that has shattered; while the pieces can be reassembled and glued back together, the original, unaltered pane will never be restored to its former state. This interpretation led me to an internal reckoning. If you’ll recall, the primary argument for separating non-death losses from bereavement was the concept of permanence. But I now agree that the idea that death is the only permanent loss is erroneous. My father may still be alive, but the impact of our estrangement is irreversible. Even if we did reconcile, like the shattered glass, I am forever changed.

I can now hold space for both these truths: death is painful, disruptive, disorienting, and lasting—and non-death loss can be these things, too. When it comes to loss, we can care instead of compare. The hardest loss for any of us is the one we are experiencing.

This book is for all those hardest losses. The deaths, the divorces, the dreams, the routines, the autonomy, the careers, the stability, the identities, the wellness, the safety, and any and everything else that has left you unmoored. Living with a chronic illness, parenting a child with a disability, adjusting to the ongoing impact of a life-altering injury, or facing the perpetual uncertainty brought on by a loved one’s mental health obstacles or addiction are just some of the nonfinite losses that, for some, are just as hard as a death.

Death itself can bring with it many non-death losses—the future you planned that will never come to pass, the sense of security that vanished, or the circle of friends or family relationships that became strained. These secondary losses may not be as visible but are no less deeply felt and deserve their own space and recognition. That recognition is what you will find in these pages. If you’re looking for a deeper exploration of death-related loss specifically, you will find it in my first book, Living with Grief: Mindful Meditations and Self-care Strategies for Navigating Loss.

MIA’S STORY:

LIFE’S INEVITABLE CHANGES AND LOSSES

In early March 2020, Mia attended a continuing education program on infectious diseases for massage therapists. Little did she know that a global pandemic was just weeks away. She simply respected the instructor and wanted to earn her required continuing education credits. Mia was surprised to reunite with classmates she met in her massage therapy program back in 1996. It had been years since they graduated, and life had taken them all in different directions.

As they caught up, Mia learned that most of her former classmates were facing tough times. Their businesses were struggling, and many were navigating either health or relationship issues, sometimes both. This was not only true for her close peers; it seemed to be a common theme with the massage therapists who had traveled from different states to attend the class.

Unlike her peers, Mia’s career was thriving. She had built a successful massage therapy business over her 24 years in practice, and was always booked months in advance. Her personal life was equally fulfilling with her significant other, Teddy. Despite a massive heart attack in 2006, Teddy defied the odds, living well beyond the two-year prognosis doctors predicted without a heart transplant. Mia also navigated her own health challenges, including a hip replacement and surgeries for a salivary gland stone and basal cell cancer.

Mia’s stable world began to crumble just one week after the infectious disease class, as COVID-19 turned into a pandemic and state mandates forced her to close her business for one and a half years. In an effort to generate income, Mia launched an online wellness summit, tapping into her earlier skills as a communication consultant and video producer. Despite her talent, fear and uncertainty shadowed her every step. With no income, and hesitant to tap into Social Security at the age of 64, the financial pressure mounted.

“My entire world had changed almost overnight. I felt like I had lost my identity, my purpose, my people, and my health. I was so grateful to have Teddy. He became my everything.” But concern for Teddy’s health grew, and socially, Mia felt isolated. All the years working six days a week, 12 hours a day had left little room for friendships beyond Teddy and her clientele. The physical distancing didn’t help her feeling of isolation. Even once the restrictions were lifted, Mia and Teddy continued to isolate due to their individual health concerns.

Then her worst fear came true. Teddy died—not from COVID-19—but from his long-standing heart condition. In losing him, Mia felt the ground beneath her give way. She lost her partner, her emotional anchor, and with him, a big part of her world.

It was around this time that I met Mia, who joined my online grief support program, Awaken. As she shared her story with me, my heart felt like lead. The scope of loss she carried was immense—almost too much for one person to endure. Yet, as I listened, I knew her experience mirrored a global narrative of loss that many were experiencing. The pandemic not only claimed lives, but the everyday normalcy, security, and connections we once took for granted.

While Teddy’s death was the focal point of her grief, Mia’s journey underscored the need to recognize and address the multitude of losses that had silently piled up in her life. I trusted, as I always have, that the work we would do together would help her find her footing once more.

Mia’s story serves as a poignant reminder that loss extends far beyond the death of loved ones. When anything we hold dear is taken away—our people, our pets, our livelihood, our health, our security—it challenges our sense of stability and identity. Mia’s journey, while uniquely hers, offers valuable insights into the collective experience of navigating life’s inevitable changes and uncertainties. Just like her, so many people lost so much during the pandemic that it seemed the whole world succumbed to a form of global compassion fatigue. It validated what I realized during Dr Harris’ 2019 keynote. It isn’t a question of whether a death or non-death loss is harder, grief in any form is disorienting, painful, and requires us to adapt, because we cannot return to how things were before.

RENOVATING YOUR ASSUMPTIVE WORLD

Whether your loss is one big event, a series of misfortunes, or a million tiny stones piling up until you feel crushed under their weight, the act of reading this book means you have hope; hope means you are one step closer to digging your way out of the rubble. Loss has a way of changing your internal geography, rendering the landscape you once knew unfamiliar or even unrecognizable.

Grief upends your assumptive world—the unique lens through which you see your life—a perception shaped by your individual upbringing, beliefs, and experiences. It includes how you appraise other people and their intentions, how you believe the world should work, and how you perceive yourself. Your assumptive world informs your sense of safety and your narratives about the past, present, and future. This perspective is so ingrained in your psyche that you might not even recognize it is there—until it is challenged by loss and/or trauma.2

Like Mia, your loss may feel like it has completely demolished everything you hold dear, destroyed the ground beneath your feet. But you will learn how to adjust to the changes, and even go beyond mere survival. The tools in this book will help you craft a solid foundation for an even more resilient structure, just like rebuilding a home damaged by high-speed wind and rain with new hurricane-resistant materials. As with any devastating storm, loss leaves us with no other choice other than to pick up the toolbox and get to work.

And, just as restoring a house combines old materials with new, rebuilding your assumptive world will include a mix of established and fresh points of view. When it comes to grief, journaling, movement, meditation, and ritual will be your wood, brick, insulation, and drywall. These time-tested tools will not only help you cope with this season of loss, but will help you savor what remains, and weather whatever the future brings.

If you’ve ever worked with a contractor, you’ll know that construction projects often take longer than the time that was originally estimated. Grief is no different. Recalibrating your existential view will include unexpected delays and setbacks. Just because progress is not linear does not mean it is not happening. So, if you are wondering how long will this take, my answer is that I don’t know—but it will happen. What I do know is that if you trust the process and use the practices in this book, you will be able to rebuild a world you want to live in again—one brick at a time.

You wouldn’t want to live in a structure where corners were cut during construction to speed up your move-in date. Nor should you rush the process of rebuilding your assumptive world, as this can lead to structural weaknesses that may plague you down the road. Grief work is not a quick fix; it is an adaptation to the natural rhythms of loss, a period of trial-and-error while you learn how to take care of the one who is grieving—you. If you honor your feelings, recognize that progress comes in waves, and practice self-kindness and patience, you will indeed create a new sturdy, sustainable, assumptive world—one that is safe for you to live in.

LEARNING HOW TO GRIEVE

For over 20 years I have witnessed clients transition from deep grief to living fully, but this is not to say it is a welcome task. No one chooses the heartache of loss. And unfortunately, only you can show up for you 100% of the time. Even our closest allies may not always be able to show up for us. Sometimes the person that would normally help you through is the one you are now estranged from, or they are coping with their own loss, or they are the one who died. The only person that can give you the care and support you need anytime, day or night, is you.

I have a love-hate relationship with this truth. There is a part of me that wishes that we could all rely on someone other than ourselves to support us consistently, without fail. That same part of me wants to kick and scream and throw a temper tantrum when I realize that the only person who can truly take care of me is me. It simply doesn’t seem fair. But it is reality. Learning how to tend to yourself in this way is the greatest skill you will ever cultivate, because it teaches you how to meet your own needs. I am grateful that I’ve learned how to companion myself through tough times, and I hope you find the same to be true. I am always with me, just as you are always with you.

If this makes you want to run in the other direction, I understand. But this will not reduce your suffering. What will help is choosing to learn how to grieve. Mary-Francis O’Connor, grief researcher, neuroscientist, and author of The Grieving Brain: The Surprising Science of How We Learn from Love and Loss, writes, “Because learning is something we do our whole lives, seeing grieving as a type of learning may make it feel more familiar and understandable and give us the patience to allow this remarkable process to unfold.” From how to cope with a wide range of emotions to exploring who you were and who you want to be now, grieving is fundamentally about learning.

Savor this: you are actively choosing to engage in this learning by reading these words. I do not know you or the intimate details of your story, but I do know something very important about you; if you are holding this book, it is because you are going through an incredibly tough time. I also know that, because you opened this book, there is a part of you that has hope, and there is a part of you that is ready to learn.

HOW TO GET THE MOST OUT OF THIS BOOK

Within these pages you will find a framework to navigate all forms of loss. Most chapters include a real-world story from myself or my clients, with names and identifying details altered for confidentiality unless otherwise requested. I have tried my best to offer a variety of loss narratives; however, whether or not yours is represented, if you focus on the common themes of loss and adaptation you will get something out of each one. Similarly, while not every practice, theory, or type of grief will apply to your situation, choose what works for you and do not try to force anything that does not resonate.

This book is organized into three types of content:

•Chapters 1 and 2 focus on the foundations of grief and loss, and help you normalize what likely feels like an extremely abnormal experience.

•Chapters 3–9 give you the practical tools to cope with the pain of loss, adapt to the myriad of changes, and, while it may seem impossible right now, build a life that you want to live.

•Chapters 10–12 address the external elements of loss, including getting support for yourself, offering support to others, and coping with global loss and devastation.

While I encourage you to read through the chapters and their practices in order, if you are struggling with a particular challenge and want to skip ahead, trust your instincts.

The practices in this book will help you put theory into action, so you apply what you have read within your daily life to create change. I often compare reading a self-help book to a cookbook; reading it alone will not create a delicious meal. You have to shop, gather your tools, prepare the ingredients, and then let it simmer. So please take your time with each chapter and practice. While you may be tempted to rush through them in an effort to ease your pain more quickly, metabolizing the information and embodying each practice will have long-term benefits that are worth savoring.

All that being said, it does not take long for you to start feeling a shift. Just like munching on a delicious carrot while you are chopping vegetables for a stew, many of my clients report that even a little bit of practice is helpful. It gives you hope and control, and your whole being enjoys benefits from the experience itself.

PREPARING YOUR SPACE

One of the most helpful things you can do for yourself is to dedicate a practice space in your home. This could be a whole room, or a quiet corner with a comfortable chair, calm music, and perhaps even aromatherapy to enhance your sense of comfort and focus. Many find comfort in having tactile objects such as soft blankets, pillows, and even stuffed animals close by, symbolizing self-compassion and support.

While the yoga practices in this book are gentle and do not require a yoga mat, you will want to at least place one or more blankets under you on the floor for cushioning if you engage in the somatic yoga therapy exercises (see Chapter 4).

JOURNALING