This weekend marks the one year anniversary of my mother’s passing. I’ve had many musings over the last year regarding the impact, the movement of my grief, and the life transitions that have inevitably occurred. Something that continues to be helpful in this journey (especially this week as I navigate the resurgence of beautiful thoughts of love and longing, mixed with frightening thoughts of death and dying) is this list of 4 mindsets, pulled from Steven C. Hayes, co-creator of ACT (Acceptance and Commitment Therapy).
You are not your thoughts
You might be thinking, “What the heck does that mean?!” I want you to stop and think about what pains you. Yes, right now. Maybe it’s “there’s not enough time in the day” or “I don’t know how to live without my person” or maybe it’s “I never do anything right.” Take a minute to find those thoughts.
Chances are, when I asked you to think about what pains you, you had words. Maybe a few, maybe a lot. And I bet those words felt really real, right? Like they were truth? Like they were defining?
Words, language, are meaning making. And they are great at it! Language allows us to do so many things. What it also does is wrap up us up in the meaning making. When we believe our thoughts that keep us stuck (ie. “I can’t do this”), we move further into our pain.
To cement my point, I want you to say “I cannot turn my head” and continue to repeat that (out loud if nobody is around, or in your head if necessary). Are you doing it? Ok, keep it up, and now, at the same time, go ahead and turn your head. Did you do it? Could you do it? Yes, of course you could! Because you are not your thoughts. It is so very helpful to observe your thoughts, observe the observer, and create distance that allows you to choose your valued direction.
In my journey, the sticky thoughts happened when my mind liked to say things like “you’re too emotionally drained to be with your family.” Here’s the thing…my family is important to me. THE most important. So if I turn away from them, I’m actually feeding into the emotional exhaustion. It didn’t mean that being with them was easy. I did feel exhausted. I was able to hold that exhaustion, share that with them, and receive support from them. Had I believed I was my thought, this away move would have made things much darker.
Your pain is not the enemy
I’ve been fortunate to have a family that did not turn away from emotion. I had beautiful models of that, and my mom was the very best model for transparency. I know this is not the case for many, many of you. So, let me reiterate…pain is not your enemy.
Pain reveals what is important, what you value, what you want to tap into or change. Pain is fundamentally the thing that provides direction, unless we try to avoid it.
Pain: guilt, shame, depression, anxiety, grief, anger, hopelessness, embarrassment. I like to sum this up as discomfort. We are pleasure-seeking beings, no doubt, so when we experience discomfort, our inclination is to figure out how in the world to not to feel it anymore. Here in lies the problem. Our problem-solving techniques lead us to a whole lot of avoidance techniques.
Avoidance can take on many forms, and can be housed in really pretty, “healthy” looking packages, including cleaning and organizing, working out, spending time with friends, listening to particular music, etc. Avoidance can also be drinking, bingeing Netflix, sleeping, and so on. Any behavior can be used as an avoidance or distraction technique. If you are trying to ignore or get rid of pain, this is the definition of experiential avoidance.
Back to my journey, which includes lots of pain in the form of grief and longing. Avoidance would look something like being quiet, for me. I value sharing. When I stop sharing, I’m suggesting I fear the depth of my grief, and that grief gets bigger and bigger. Moving back to the space of pain not being my enemy allows me to open and share, and move in the direction of my values rather than away.
You are not alone
Oh, boy. Is it ok if I say you are not unique? My pain is not unique. And not being alone in my grief has been an important acknowledgment. In my personal journey, my sister and father have been integral to not feeling alone, but so are two close friends who are going through their very own specific grief journeys. The loss of a child. The loss of a husband. My thoughts kept trying to convince me that my grief did not compare, and they kept sharing their grief openly. And you know what? Grief is universal. Different, and universal. Pain is universal. You are not alone. This part of our human condition, when embraced, can encourage connection and growth even as it sucks the air right out of you.
Your change process is never over
My journey, your journey, everyone's journey is ongoing as we navigate this life. It’s not about the goal or outcome, it is about the direction. Getting slowed down, feeling the “two steps forward, one back”, the ebb and flow of emotion, the resurgence of intensity, are all part of this journey.
In conclusion, my journey of grief is never over. I get to hold, gently, the experiences of pain that float in and out of my experience each day. Sometimes it's big and raw, other days it sits in the back hanging out, and other days its beautiful and loving. It doesn’t need to have an end, because it gets to be exactly what it is in the context of life. And this is how I recall that there is no destination for grief, just a direction.
If you or someone you know is personally struggling with “pain”, and would like more guidance in how to increase flexibility around experiencing these thoughts and feelings, please reach out. Gaining the language to help with this process can help increase contact with values, gaining greater personal awareness of avoidance behaviors, and move towards greater openness to the discomfort of life.