Tag: loss

Would You Live Your Life Over Again? Or is Once Enough?

Thomas Wolfe famously wrote a classic American novel entitled, “You Can’t Go Home Again.” These words seemed to resonate with most people who at times during their lives feel a need to return to their roots. To smell the smells, hear the noises and feel the feelings of being home again is enticing.

Of being in the safety and comfort of youth and innocence. A time when loved ones were still here and home meant warmth and security. A place to dream, plan and experience the excitement of a life not lived, but still only imagined. A future fraught with possibilities and a present filled with friends, fun and hope for the future.

I usually try to inject humor into my blogs, yet sometimes life isn’t funny. It’s sad, confusing and devastating. And perhaps that’s why I am suddenly drawn to memories.

I guess when you put it that way who wouldn’t want to go home again?

And yet as Wolfe reminded us, we can’t. These memories are a form of time travel transporting us back to happier times. And that realization is a moment of sadness. It fills us with a longing to return to our past we so covet and yearn to recapture. Memories keep the people and places we lost in our lives alive.

Oh, I’m not saying that we should live in the past, foregoing the present and future while wishing to go backward.

I’m just saying there are moments in life that seem to sneak up on us like a thief and rob us of the present. We find ourselves steeped in a memory.

But aren’t these recollections actually an important part of our present and future?

Isn’t what and who we are a product of what we were?

I myself find that there is no intention when these memories arise.

I will simply pass a store window and see a sofa and suddenly I’ll recall the living room of our first home. And I am drawn instantly back in time to the feelings and moments spent there. Of my late brother using the back of the couch as a horse pretending to be Hopalong Cassidy.

Or I could be watching a television show and see a bakery when suddenly I can smell the place on our corner I used to go with my mother to get bread and cakes. These feelings can be so powerful they stop us in our tracks and we are forced to remember, to experience, to luxuriate in the glow of our past.

So why does it seem at times we all desire a return to childhood. To innocence and hope?

Surely no one can honestly say they would like to go through it all again. To fight the war of existence and battles of becoming who we must be.

Eons ago as a teen I was watching a talk show and the host asked the audience how many would like to live their life over again.

Only a few hands were raised in response. I was shocked to see so many people would choose not to redo, to reconstruct their lives. I mean doesn’t everyone want a do over at times?

As I grew older, I fully understood the reason for their lack of enthusiasm reliving it all again.

I imagine a great part of that question and answer lies in the fact that as we age, we gain wisdom.

And a big part of that wisdom is understanding. Knowing if we went backward in time we’d have to repeat all our mistakes to gain the knowledge we now possess. The lessons, hard fought and difficult would certainly reoccur since we would lack the ability to know any better.

The caveat is I would like to go back knowing what I know now. So what’s the point?

What’s’ the point indeed?

What’s the reason that we stand transfixed when a sudden memory intrudes on the now? Perhaps memories are the way we do live our life over?

Still why are we sometimes filled with a longing to return to simpler times and familiar places?

Is it a flaw in our nature? Something that makes us want to escape the present instead of facing it head on?

I don’t believe that is the case.

I think these memories are a powerful reinforcement of our own humanity and the reality we are still in the world.

Most of us rarely sit and focus on how we became who we are. How we arrived in this place or achieved or failed at our goals.

Part of this may be the pain of knowing we can’t go back and change anything.

And perhaps that’s why we need to return so badly to the “then.” To a place where there is no reckoning, no judgement, no regret.

To feel that sense of freedom that the whole world lies before us and time is never ending.

That we have a lifetime to dream, hope and live. Or assured that years didn’t seem to fly by at an alarming rate as we stood by powerless and watched.

When we were kids, summer vacation seemed eons away. Christmas and Chanukah couldn’t come fast enough. November just dragged until we turned the calendar over to December.

Now we are faced with the fact the clocks speed along like a rocket and Monday becomes Friday in the blink of an eye.

We’re supposed to be psychologically healthy and grieve for our loved ones, yet afterward get on with life. That “life is for the living” is a mantra we all must adopt to be happy. Yet deep inside we question that is true.

If we’re honest with ourselves we fight against loss each day. When the past slips up on us in a memory, it is actually us giving in to the fact we miss happier times.

And that’s okay because that memory is a gift that allows us to revel in the past when we need comforting.

These moments we feel warmed by the happy times of the past us, the past them who are no longer here. Through these memories, they return and yes, it may be for only a few moments, but we need that time again. Who we are is what we were and who were in our lives.

To ignore this need goes against a pleasure in which we should all indulge.

So when you hear a bell ring, it’s okay to taste that Good Humor ice cream again. When you an old song plays it’s okay to dance and sing once more with friends while bouncing on your bed. When you taste a favorite food it’s wonderful to return to your family table once again and share a meal with loved ones.

It’s a necessary part of who we are and what we need to be us. To survive and thrive in a world that is too often unwelcoming and cold.

I wish everyone all the wonderful memories you require to feel the love and strength from what and who came before.

Do You Need to Feel it to Heal it

Do You Need to Feel it to Heal it?

“Grief is the price we pay for love…” Queen Elizabeth II

I have no earthly idea where I came up with the phrase you need to feel it to heal it but it’s stuck in my head. Like a flying shard of glass that catches you just behind the ear and you can’t see it to pull it out.

Anyway, so it got me to thinking about what this means in terms of how we come back from the bad places we’re forced to enter in life.

Lately I’ve watched while people close to me including myself have struggled to come back from a painful loss.

Begs the question, what is the best way to cope and is there really any foolproof way to deal with grief?

Does one magic bullet exist for everyone or does each person require a unique method of moving forward toward healing? It also made me wonder, what is healing? How do we know we’ve achieved it without the signs of a visible scar we can actually see?

I like to think I can cope with pain on my own and don’t require any medication to mask the effects.

I imagine myself strong, adept and able to cope without outside help. Then I’m reminded of that box of Godiva I keep reaching for at odd times during the day that seems to calm me with each bite. So, who am I kidding here? Because it doesn’t come in a bottle with a prescription attached is it any less medicinal?

Okay, I admit it, chocolate is my Zanax.

Others need an actual drug to quiet them enough to function. Without help masking the pain and its effects some are lethargic and unable to function in life.

I’ve witnessed this and it can be incredibly debilitating.

The question I’ve asked is how long is long enough to stay medicated until one can face life alone again?

How much Godiva will it take until I can get through a day and go through my normal routine without popping a few caramels and am I simply fueling my addiction to chocolate?

Is my need for sugar better than a Zanax or two to get through the day and isn’t it just as addictive?

Honestly, I don’t know. I like to think because eventually I’ll stop masking the pain with pralines it’s the better option. Yet whether it’s drugs or chocolate it’s still a crutch one uses to cope.

Returning to my original question, does one need to feel it to heal it?

Haven’t you heard people say that we must acknowledge and embrace our feelings to change them? That ignoring the pain merely adds time to its effects and we must go through the pain to get to the other side.

If we ignore pain can’t it burrow deeper into our soul until it’s almost impossible to find? Does it morph into a deep and festering wound that we are unaware exists and manifests itself in ways we don’t understand?

Is feeling and recognizing the hurt a way to battle it on our turf, like a home court advantage?

Know thy enemy is a phrase that never goes away and if we refuse to see what is attacking us can we rise to conquer an unseen enemy?

Sun Tzu said “Know the enemy and know yourself in a hundred battles you will never be in peril. When you are ignorant of the enemy but know yourself, your chances of winning or losing are equal. If ignorant both of your enemy and of yourself, you are certain in every battle to be in peril.”

So we need to know the enemy and know ourselves as well to achieve victory.

What does this mean to someone battling to avoid the pain of loss?

I imagine we must know ourself what weapons will be successful fighting our individual war.

We know sorrow, but how well do we know what it takes to defeat it?

Is it as many believe that time heals all wounds and we need merely to wait it out?

Is it simply medicating ourself and hoping the effects of the drugs will delay the enemy until we are armed and ready to face it again?

Does waiting actually weaken our resolve and the masking create less will and ability to deal with and defeat our aggressor?

Or does time, no matter what we do step in to do battle for us and eventually close the wound naturally?

Can it be a combination of all these; or perhaps none?

Do certain wounds never heal but remain to be opened and felt again, like a battlefield where there is no resolution?

Do some wars never truly end and exist in a state of semi-peaceful coexistence?

I truly believe that grief is fluid. We may go through times when we are coping well and then suddenly a memory attacks from behind and you are caught off guard.

Many spiritual leaders believe feeling the hurt and acknowledging a broken heart is the path to true awakening. To function in the midst of chaos without panic is the right path.

Looking forward to future nicer times can for the moment give you a sense that there can be happiness ahead. This is one way to restore hope life will eventually reach some new normal state.

Does staying connected to loved ones through pictures, memories, birthdays and so many other reminders help and deflect from the loss.

Maybe there is no one way to feel the pain and get past it that works for everyone. If needed some should reach out for help as part of their journey back to wellness.

In the end we all fight our own war, grieve our own way and slay the monster with the weapons we find most useful.

Hearts break and time heals to some extent, or so they say. Just how much it heals is not universal and differs within us all and we know wounds can reopen.

So if you need to feel it to heal it and get past it, arm yourself for battle and slay that dragon. And if you need to call in your army of loved ones and friends to help you do battle, that may be a huge help as well.  

How a Sorting Hat Could Manage Painful Memories

How a Sorting Hat Could Manage Painful Memories 

The other day a friend was amazed by my memory. She couldn’t get over how I remembered so many things from so many years ago. I realized long ago my mind was merely a clearinghouse for trivia and useless information, but I’ve found a way to appreciate having a sense of recall, although at a much slower pace now. As I like to say my computer takes longer to reboot.

However more and more of late I’ve questioned whether or not a good memory is a positive or negative feature. Is it good to be able to remember so many facts and figures and replay old memories at a moment’s notice? Especially when lately I can’t remember what I walked in the room to get from one second to another?

I think any Harry Potter fan is aware of that magical wonder called the sorting hat. It was used when one enters Hogwarts to determine in which house the student will reside. So if the sorting hat is so smart maybe it can help me with my memories.

When someone reaches the “golden years,” (that phrase always cracks me up) there are certainly far too many memories to recall. Some we try to call upon and others seem to flash into our minds with no warning, like a bird into an airplane engine. With I’m afraid the same unfortunate result.

I need the sorting hat to ensure the unwanted memories don’t slip through the cracks and attack what was otherwise a pleasant day. 

With the help of the sorting hat the remembrances we would not elect to keep could be sent off to a special part of our brain to remain stored away.

Lately I’ve become acquainted with a new term, grief dreams. They are the strange dreams we have after a loss of someone close. I thought I was losing my mind when I awakened every morning thinking what was that about until I learned a close friend who’s recently also lost her sibling was also experiencing them.

We have no control over what we dream so while sleeping and faced with vivid dreams about our loved ones we cannot stop any painful results. Yet when we’re awake I’d hope we’d be able to restrain our thoughts. But as usual when believing I have some power over my life, I was wrong.

Wasn’t it Hamlet who famously said, “for in that sleep of death what dreams may come must give us pause.”

Well I’d like to pause these recollections from invading my space.

Anyone who has ever known me will tell you I’ve always believed humor was a cure for all ills. Now at this age I see how wrong I was. There are some circumstances where a laugh is not up to the task and loss is one of these times. 

Memories have a mind of their own. They must populate a place in our brain where there are no fences or door with locks. This makes them capable of rushing out to play whenever they wish. 

A sorting hat would put a lid on their freedom. A childhood memory of my brother and I with my grandfather could not simply attack me while I’m driving in the car and singing along with my favorite song. Or when I’m in the shower rinsing the shampoo from my hair and suddenly there’s a memory coming at me full force and I’m sobbing instead of making my grocery list.

I believe it’s difficult when one loses your parents and becomes no one’s child any longer. 
Now I have lost the moniker of sister. Yes, I still have one brother, but it doesn’t seem the same. I was a sister to two and now… Why should these labels matter at all actually, especially when we’re older and yet… Does time heal all wounds or is that a fantasy we embrace to pretend the pain will eventually stop?

I know these memories I seem to be castigating are actually a necessary part of our lives and we need them those who are gone nearby. So as painful as it is, I know in the end remembering is a good thing. To recall happy moments is vital even though when a wound is fresh the happy may actually seem painful. 

Friends who have experienced loss say it gets easier with time and eventually thoughts that are now causing pain will bring a smile. I wouldn’t doubt that is true, but right now a sorting hat seems like a very good idea. Perhaps it could choose to let through the ones that might cause the least hurt and save the other memories for when I’m a bit stronger and able to handle them.

Some recollections will always cause a pang of pain.

Whether a cruel remark from a classmate, a break up or even a disappointment the marks of these experiences seem to leave scars. In time we learn to form some type of defense against them, but loss that’s a tough one.

The finality of losing a loved becomes more real as time goes by. And each memory opens the scar again. 

Memories keep someone alive and that’s what we want. It just seems sorrow is a high price to pay.

But would we rather forget? I think not. For in the end we are all well aware of the fact no sorting hat, no forgetfulness can hide the truth…we need to keep the people we love close to us and reminiscences accomplish that. And no hurt or tears could ever be too high a price to pay.