Thriving Loss

BALBOA PRESS

Contents

Introduction......................................................................................xiChapter 1: Getting to Grips with Grief............................................................1Chapter 2: The Tree of Transformation.............................................................18Chapter 3: The Roots—Creating Space for Grief to Flow.......................................29Chapter 4: The Trunk—Feeling the Flow of Grief..............................................46Chapter 5: The Branches—Knowing Who You Want to Be After Loss...............................70Chapter 6: The Leaves—Cultivating the Relationship withYour Loved One.......................87Chapter 7: The Fruit—Finding the Good in Loss...............................................107Chapter 8: Maintenance—Caring forYour Tree of Transformation................................125Chapter 9: The Biggest Challenge—UnderstandingYour Story....................................135Chapter 10: DeepeningYour Experience—The Transformative Power of Nature.....................153Chapter 11: Moving Forward—PlantYour Tree Now...............................................171Recommended Resources.............................................................................177About Tabitha Jayne...............................................................................179Acknowledgements..................................................................................181Pay It Forward....................................................................................183Biographies of the Thrivors Whose Stories Appear in Thriving Loss.................................185

Chapter One

"We bereaved are not alone. We belong to the largest company in all the world—the company of those who have known suffering. When it seems that our sorrows are too great to be borne, let us think of the great family of the heavy hearted into which our grieving has given us entrance, and inevitably we feel about us their arms, their sympathy, their understanding." —Helen Keller

I was twenty-two when my brother died. I was at a party, high on cocaine, ecstasy, and alcohol when I got a phone call from my grandmother.

She told me that my brother's car had crashed, killing him instantly.

The drugs had numbed all of my emotions and all I could do was sit there blankly. The world seemed vacant, strange, and dream-like. People were shocked; some didn't know what to say while others came to say how sorry they were.

As I left the party that morning to meet my mum who was on her way back from identifying his body all I remember was that the sun shone brightly without a cloud in the sky. Delicate pink flower petals bloomed on every tree, carpeting the ground in swirls. It seemed so wrong. Dark clouds and rain would have been far more appropriate.

In retrospect, I was not emotionally equipped to handle this type of trauma, which even for a strong young woman would have been difficult.

My vulnerability had its roots deep in my childhood.

As a little girl I had loved running with the feel of the wind around my face and my hair flying behind me. I felt free. Yet when a thoughtless kid made a comment judging my appearance, I stopped running. What the kid said ate into my already low self-confidence created by growing up in an abusive household. I felt ashamed to be me.

Other kids started teasing me until I dreaded going to school and all I could do was pretend that every horrible word said wasn't affecting me. I became very self-conscious and found it very difficult to speak to people.

The comments and taunts followed me wherever I went. New schools offered new chances but I'd hear the same comments and experience the same feelings of isolation and exclusion.

High school was hell. Like everyone else, I just wanted to be liked and to fit in.

When I was sixteen I discovered drugs and alcohol. I thought it would be a way to be accepted. It didn't work like that. But what did happen was that the pain inside went away for a while and life didn't seem that bad.

Over the years I found refuge in my room where I would spend hours reading book after book, dreaming of foreign countries and hoping that someday, someone would find me beautiful. I also found solace in nature. Alone, with the sun on my face and the wind in my hair I could run freely, without judgment. I could open myself up and just be.

I had become so used to the taunts that I just accepted them. What was even worse was I believed them. Yet despite all this, there was a part of me that would get up every morning and look in the mirror desperately trying to find something pretty in my face. Some days I'd find it, but others days I'd feel hopeless. The drugs masked all of this.

In the weeks following my brother's death I kept myself busy. I contacted the magazine that had organized the event my brother had attended the night he died. They put up a tribute page on the Internet which was so popular they decided to print it in the actual magazine. I helped my mum prepare his funeral and organized a party for my brother's friends to celebrate his life. I read poems and prayers to find the right words I wanted to say at the funeral.

The whole time I felt my brother close to me, like he hadn't really gone. It was very surreal. I didn't cry. I didn't really feel that sad and wondered why other people were so upset and crying. I couldn't relate to that.

After my brother's funeral, I spent some time back at the family home where I was drawn to the beauty and splendor of the surrounding nature. I spent hours staring at the sky and the trees, and going for walks in the nearby wood. I began to realize that I'd been wasting my life. I'd been scared to live it properly and was hiding from both my problems and the opportunity to really live. I understood I wanted to help others and to do something worthwhile with my life. This was my wake up call to life. It was my challenge to live. And only then did my emotions flow.

Not only was I grieving my brother but as I went back into my past to find memories of him, all the pain and suffering I'd blocked out as a child tumbled forth.

It was overwhelming. I couldn't think about anything else.

I wanted to do something worthwhile with my life but I was drowning in the self-destructive behaviors that kept me taking drugs, drinking and self-harming. While my behavior was becoming more and more erratic, my thoughts were more and more disordered. I know people thought I was crazy.

Hell, I thought I was crazy.

One night, seven months after my brother's death, I was again back at home and was desperately trying to explain how I felt to my mum. I could feel the anger and frustration rising amidst the confusion. I couldn't find the words to describe how I felt. Grabbing scissors I started hacking off my long hair in an attempt to show how I was feeling. I didn't stop until I had cut it all off.

This was my darkest hour but also my turning point. It made me realize that I couldn't continue like this. Not only was I destroying myself and my family but I was dishonoring my brother. The next day I put...