Love, Loss and Learning the Price of Love

The Price of Love
Stars in the Heavens

Love, Loss and Learning the Price of Love

The other morning, I sat outside in the dark enjoying my coffee. What an amazingly beautiful morning. After days of humidity, rain and cloud cover, the crisp air and clear skies were welcome. The stars and planets were brilliant, and I was in complete awe with the beauty of the universe and life.

It has been a journey, these past several years.

As I sat under the stars and reflected on life and loss and love, I was moved to such tremendous gratitude. There have been days I have shed happy tears, but today I sat with the gratitude and my heart just swelled with joy and peace.

Not only did I reflect on the beauty in front of me, I reflected on a quote I heard the other day.

“Grief is the price we pay for love.”

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Love, Loss and Learning what’s in a name

Love and Loss

There are so many story ideas I have written down during my journey of healing. My last post shared where I’ve been, which was recovering from a fractured femur and the surgery needed to repair it. I am so far behind in writing.

I also noticed that a lot of my grief writing has been sad. Because, well, that’s grief. I have been trying to make some meaning out of the grief.

One of the goals I am working towards now is incorporating what I have learned on my healing journey, recovering from grief and trauma, be it physical, emotional or spiritual. I have been attending workshops in an effort to combine all of my talents as well as my knowledge. I’m passionate towards helping others navigate the deep, dark waters of grief.

That said, one of the numerous things I have learned in my coursework is that grief and joy can happen simultaneously.

That is what I would like to share with you today.

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Love, Loss and Leaving Notes at the Labyrinth

Love, Loss and Leaving Notes at the Labyrinth

Love and Loss

It had been months – over six months, to be precise – that I had been able to visit my sacred space – the labyrinth that I shared with Sarah, just about a week before she passed away.

For the past six or seven months, I have been recovering from a serious lower back/hip injury. I truly believe it was a manifestation of the grief and trauma surrounding her death, and other major significant losses.

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Love, loss and life lessons

Love, Loss and Life Lessons
Weight of grief – Sculpture by Celeste Roberge – www.celesteroberge.com

As I continue on my healing journey, I am learning lessons on love and loss.

As I mentioned in my last post, I feel grief is the death of hope. It’s the loss of the loved one, the dream, the life you hoped for.

Grief sucks. Grief produces a trauma all of its own. You can feel its physical affects.

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My mental health journey – May is #MentalHealth Month

My mental health journey
My mental health journey – recognizing that I am stronger than I know…

Why is it that when we have a physical ailment, we feel free to go to the doctor? Yet, when we have a mental health issue, often times we don’t seek help.

There is a stigma around seeking mental health treatment, and it is killing us in many ways: broken souls, suicides, abuse, stress-related illnesses, substance abuse, etc.

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Broken Hearts and Christmas

wpid-Broken-heart2.jpg

“Somewhere there’s someone who dreams of your smile, and finds in your presence that life is worth while. So when you are lonely, remember it’s true: Somebody, somewhere, is thinking of you.” – Unknown

Christmas is the season of hope and miracles. Festive lights and decorations are everywhere. There is absolutely no escaping it. No matter where you are, music is playing. Wishes for snow and gifts are plentiful. To-do lists and errands seem miles long. Hustle and bustle. And exhaustion – all in an effort to have everything “perfect.”

For weeks I have been asked: Are you ready for Christmas? Are you in the holiday spirit? Don’t you love this time of year?

No. No. And this year, no.

For the record, I am not a Grinch. Most years, I am as wound up as a five-year-old waiting for the big day. Though no longer a child, I do believe in Santa. On Christmas Eve, I search the sky, looking for the jolly ol’ elf. And I believe in Christmas magic and the hope of this season. The Babe in Bethlehem is my Salvation.

But I am not really into Christmas this year.

I have freely admitted this to many people, and save for a few, I am greeted with shock and horror. Some people look at me like I am crazy.

But I am normal. And I don’t need a therapist and I don’t need an anti-depressant.

I just need people to understand that, for me, this is a difficult holiday season. I am going to smile. And I am going to laugh. And I am going to cry. And those tears are healing. Those tears are okay.

Christmas will be different this year. That doesn’t make it bad – it doesn’t make it good. It makes it different. I never wanted it to be different.

I wanted it to be perfect.

At some point in our lives, how we celebrate Christmas changes. Children grow up, family members move, dads pass away. Maybe, for the first time in my life, I really have come to understand that there is no such thing as the perfect Christmas.

I overheard a conversation that resonated with me. Two women were discussing the emphasis on to-do lists, and shopping and baking, “all for one day.” The older woman hit the nail on the head – that the emphasis is on the wrong place.

“All you need to be ready for Christmas is to be surrounded by the ones you love.”

Yet, this year, there will be very dear ones missing from our celebrations – but because of my I love for them, they will be in attendance, for they are always close in my heart. Always.

Undoubtedly, Christmas will be different. Acknowledging that difference and that I won’t do all the same things this year relieves me of some of the pressures of “perfect.” I won’t have to pretend I am happy if I am having a sad moment. Different will make previous memories more precious, and new moments memorable.

Different will give me an ever greater appreciation of what I have been blessed with, which will go a long way towards healing my broken heart.

Different will also force me to look outside of myself and share with others – hard as that may be – even if all I can do is muster up a smile or be polite.

Maybe different will cause me to become different – but in a good and more thoughtful way. Maybe it will give me a greater compassion for the lonely, the hurting or for those experiencing loss.

Maybe, just maybe, different will one day feel perfect.

“It is the personal thoughtfulness, the warm human awareness, the reaching out of the self to one’s fellow man that makes giving worthy of the Christmas spirit.” – Isabel Currier

How are you helping yourself or a loved one this holiday season?

© 2012 – Lynne Cobb

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