HelenzArt-life-musings

Tag: purpose

  • Where am I going!?

    When I was made redundant from work 6 months after our son died, I was in a better position to help my husband yet I intuitively knew I wasn’t there to rescue him or divert him from his grief.  I wasn’t going to be able to drag or bully him out of his depression or helplessness or any other feeling that he was having, regardless of whether he was intent on denying them or not.   I could only help myself. To carry on embracing my emotions, and to share that, or rather my,  way of being in his environment.  To share that it’s OK to feel helpless, lost, floundering in a sea of what’s the point. 

    So, I cried when I needed to cry, and I still do that. Its not often but I do have the heaving sobs and snotty nosed cries and always feel better after.  Emotion is energy in motion, it needs to be helped in moving through.  That’s perhaps why laughter is good for you, it moves all of the body with joy. 

    Obviously I wasn’t going to hang around my hubby waiting for his next time of needed solace. So where was I going, there’s only so much busy-ness a body can do, house clean, laundry done, dogs walked etc.

    I began sitting, looking at a golden soul thread that was pulled by my sons departure. I didn’t know that I was pondering on that, but in hindsight, that’s what it was. An invitation to find a different path. To perhaps weave a different cloth in what may remain of my life.  To step out of being daughter, sister, wife, mother, all those facets that have kept me in a seeming place. Doing what I have always done, try to fit in to what I thought others wanted or needed, ‘people please’, so as to find worth from others as I had none in and of myself. Though that too is an hindsight.   How can loss shape such thoughts? Grief,  tears one apart, dismantles a lot of what one thought one knew, opens up those darkened and hidden spaces where we have hidden from ourselves.  That is an opportunity to reorganise, to fling wide the doors and windows and really have a good look into those shadows, and maybe shine a little light.  Maybe with the loss of one purpose perhaps one looks for another and at my age, the patterns can change. Survival needs change. There is a roof over head, money available, children grown.  There is less wanting to climb the social ladder,  seeing that we have enough stuff and perhaps it’s time to gather up the inner treasure and make more or better use of what is already here.

    So,  where was I going? I was going to begin finding me.

  • Seeing some light.

    This painting came into being in 2022, whilst waiting for my mother-in-law to transition from this Earthly world to some other state of being. Its part of a series I call the ‘Waiting Room’ and can be found on my art website.

    http://www.helenzart2021.com

    Yes, that’s how I see and feel the passing on of a bodied person is. A transformation of beingness from this bodied person, within which is a spirited soul, and the release of those Earthly ties to set a spirit free.

    I started feeling this when the overwhelming pain that Gavins’ death engulfed me with had begun to settle. Whilst sat in the moments of stillness, which come after the releasing of emotional energy through sobbing those copious tears with body wracking heaves, I felt those tugged threads of continued connection. Those heart strings that sing at the memories of his smile, the quiet laugh at a wry comment. His voice, that deepened from childhood to manhood yet always him. A felt knowing that physical presence was not all that he gave, that what was of essence within that body was still in existence. Still held in my own soul spirit, woven into my own fabric of existence, of beingness. So what was I to do with this awakening of connection.

    Like many humans, I began to look beyond the survival needs to ponder on purpose. When feeling purposeless seems to be a result of losing a loved one. Especially one that has been a central part of ones caring. What even is a purpose? Is it to simply be mother, daughter, wife, colleague, and friend, in many cases that is enough. Yet what if there is more to be found. A potential to see that whilst those are important, there is more to being those parts and roles that to be all, and yet none of those is to be more whole. What was to be done by me to bring my potential wholeness to the fore. To be a better version of this bodied person living fully now.

    That sudden loss was bringing the realisation that there is no future for certain. All could be lost in the blink of an eye. Gavin had achieved much in his 28 years, things that had allowed a fulfilling of some of his dreams, and I felt proud and grateful that my nurturing of him in those early years had been a purpose of mine. Where now to place that nurturing spirit that wells up from within. Where indeed!

  • What a difference a year makes!

    What started with the loss of our son, Gavin, became a whole different direction once that embracing of emotion was allowed to takes its own course.

    There’s no denying it was extremely painful in moments, even long moments, yet they were transitory. The allowing was in flow, coming and welcomed, ebbing to and fro. Those inbetween times were of the ordinary and yet were leading me towards extra-ordinary. The feeling that the loss of his physical presence had some how pulled a thread, a soul thread from with in me to be examined. To look for where this soul of mine was hidden.

    At Gavins committal service there were people there who we knew that knew Gavin and some that we had no idea of. His death meant something to them as did his life and interaction with them. His life had touched theirs in a way that we could have no knowledge of. So his soul thread had touched the fabric of their lives and secured his beingness to theirs. His going had tugged on their threads to move them towards something else. Be that a realising that life is transient, that removal from this physical life can happen no matter what age one is. A facing up to and conversation of death and seeing that there is a purpose to how we do, what we do now, rather than next week or next year. To try to live fully today in this moment. Who knows if that stuck or not, and it is up to them to feel it.

    I simply felt that tug to become more ‘now’, to be the better me in each moment. How wasn’t fully formed yet, it would sift through in the quiet moments, and that is OK. It’s still OK to not really know or understand as the feeling is all that’s needed. Threads, strands of spirit have become a curiosity to me. That life tapestry that is poetically thought of as part of life and so much more. I feel the warp and weft that interweaves through all things.

  • What does life look like after a loss?

    For me it pretty much looked the same though coloured by the emotions of the loss. We still needed to eat and keep clean. Chores to be done, bills to pay, dogs to walk and tend to. Work to go to, though with a phased return, offering the proviso that if I felt the need to take an unscheduled break I would. 

    Going back to work was actually easy, my closer coworkers had been told of my circumstances but there were others who didn’t know and even after afew weeks I was able to speak about it with out feeling overwhelmed. 

    It’s funny how we try to be tender with other people’s feelings at these times. To make it easier on them to deal with that knowledge of someone’s suffering. Yes, I would often go for a quick weep or deep breaths in the solitude of my car, that being my way to embrace the emotion and not deny it or save it for later. The return to everyday things can make us feel guilty too, perhaps. That we are carrying on as ‘normal’ and the grief and pain looses their grip a little. It’s OK to feel it. It’s survival.

    In that first 6 months I watched my hubby fall to pieces. Trying too hard to be ‘normal’ struggling to express his emotions. Saying yes to work when he ought to say ‘no’. His work asking to much anyway given the circumstances. I had to leave work a couple of times to go to support him as he tried to make sense of world so unfamiliar. It was heart wrenching to see him slumped on the stairs, purposeless and hurting. Yet all I could do was support. Let him know and hold space for him to feel all he was feeling. I felt deep down that I couldn’t rescue him from this. That all I could do was hold his hand as he found his own way to heal, walk his own path to safer ground. By my sharing and showing that grieving fully was OK, that I was willing to share our grief, together, with ugly sobs and snotty noses. That neither he nor I had to be strong and calm for the other, simply be there and hug.

    Why did I feel that to embrace all was the right way? It simply did feel right. A deep knowing that surfaced, and was going to bring support for me and those around me. If they couldn’t do it for themselves, I could show them how. 

    A serendipitous event then came my way. A reshuffle was happening at work, and redundancy was an option on the table. The payout would support my financial contributions to the household for a year, and so I took that chance. I would be able to support my hubby through his own stages of grief as well as begin my own explorations about purpose. that were starting to sift up. Percolating through the emotions and senses that our/my loss had shaken loose within.

  • Why the guilt?

    I’m angry, so why did I feel guilty too? With all the emotions that were being felt in waves, there was always the sense that I was feeling guilty too. It was an under current, yep I’m back to my ocean analogy! In fact my mother-in-law said something that was reminiscent of guilt when we told her of Gavins passing. She was in hospital having had some stents fitted. She simply stated that it should have been her who was taken, she had lived a long life and it ought to have been her passing not Gavin. He was too young, with a life ahead full of potential. Yet we all said that’s not the way it goes, he was called and she wasn’t, not yet. Maybe that’s where bargaining can come in when it’s someone young who has a potentially terminal or life changing disease, yet something like an embolism isn’t necessarily foreseeable. Though Gavin did have symptoms that were misdiagnosed. 

    So why guilty? For me it was expressing regret and wishing I had done more. Yet once more I come back to that being a mother who was allowing him to be the man he had become. Still my boy, but old enough to make his choices, to make mistakes and learn. The apron strings were loosed. Yes, I could express concern yet it was still his life. I felt guilty of failing him, of failing in my role as mother. Yet a mother has to stop mothering and smothering. That is not to stop caring but it is to stop interfering, as too much of that can be detrimental to a healthy relationship. There’s also the guilt at not going to his home and finding his body earlier. He went silent in the Tuesday, my husband went round on the Friday. In all likely hood he died either Monday night or sometime on Tuesday. The thought of him laying there all that time is difficult to bear. Yet bear it I do, I made the choice to allow him privacy and space as I have done as he was growing up. As I chose to do when he was at University, I never needed or expected daily contact. That we spoke regularly was enough. To be honest that has always been my way, I didn’t speak daily to my dad once I left home. 

    There’s also the looking back over events through our life together as mother and son, nurturing and disciplining that may prompt a guilt that perhaps if.. .. Yet that past can’t be changed, no matter how much one may wish it. If I could have done things differently I would have. Over the 5 years since his transition I have have transitioned too. That guilt is part of who I am, its OK to feel it so it can find its place. It doesn’t ‘eat’or ‘nag away’ inside, because its accepted as having a place within. I give myself permission to feel all that needs to be felt. Opening up to the learnings they offered in their time. Gavins departure gave me a gift, and yes we all like to find a meaning to events in our lives, yet this was more than just finding a reason to his passing this was finding a pathway to living fully in what is left of my life. 

  • More of that cosh

    That cosh is self wielded. We batter ourselves with ‘if only…’, and ‘I should have.. ‘. Focusing on what we wish had or hadn’t happened, what we think we did wrong or didn’t do at all! That, too, is sending feelings into a void, a place where there is no answer. There is no answer because what has happened, has happened. A death can’t be undone. The circumstances are that the loss is now to be lived with. Whether that death was through disease, a tragic accident, or even that their life was taken by another’s hand, the truth is that our loved one is no longer here in physical form. That hurts, and pain that deep needs to be felt. I have seen my husband struggle with feelings. That anger, at others and himself. That despair of depression at having his purpose of being a dad to Gavin taken from him. Especially once the sorting of Gavins funeral and estate, an immediate purposefulness, was completed. Those final things that could be done for Gavins earthly presence. In the grieving there are those moments of forgetting that they aren’t physically here anymore. Wanting to show them something or talk about some thing that interests us and hope would interest them too. For me it was sat on a break in my car and seeing a man walking to the shop and I fleetingly thought, ‘what’s Gavin doing here today!!’ Those moments catch us unawares. Can make us feel silly for making that mistake. They can be painful reminders of our loss, yet they can be a catalyst for letting more emotion move through us. The more movement there is of emotion, the easier it becomes to feel and release.

    My choice to embrace each emotion as it arises was to fully feel and be sad or angry. Its liberating to give ones self permission to feel fully. To show the others in our lives that it’s OK to feel what ever we feel in each moment. That emotion isn’t to be caged up or denied to spare the feelings of others. By giving permission to ourselves we actually give permission to others to feel too. There’s a holding of space to allow expression. That’s what funerals and wakes are for. A coming together to mourn and celebrate the one who has transitioned to a new phase of being. No longer a physical presence but a spirit held in heart. Remembrances of the love they gave, the wisdom shared or simply the joy they spread whether they knew it or not. It was 3 weeks til we could have a service for Gavin. It was 3 weeks til we were able to have a service for Daves mum last year. A suspension of grief that awaits the humanised ritual of farewell. A ritual that we have come to expect as a permission to grieve perhaps.

  • Under a cosh!

    A cosh is simply a weapon, yet, for some it may feel as though this grief is a thing that is keeping us from being ourselves. The self that we knew before we lost someone dear. That had a place, a sense of purpose in the human that we have lost. That person was a rudder to steer our lives by and is nolonger a physical guidence.

    Our son was a nurtured part of who I was. His mum who birthed him, breast fed him, just as I did with my first born, his older sister. Children become a purpose when they enter ones life. My purpose to raise them as best I could. To see them safely through their lives for as long as possible. For the rest of my life. Certainly not seeing that it would simply be for the length of his. To wipe snot from the nose, dry their eyes. Laugh with them at simple sunbeams and butterflies.

    Even with our parents as they age, we take on a purpose to care for them as they once tried to care for us. To ease their way through to the end.

    Perhaps that’s where the depression can take hold. Losing our purpose, to feel that we have failed in our duties to love and protect. To feel that the void caused by their leaving, their travelling on to new beginnings is a void in our reason for living. As darker spaces tend to do, they draw us in. Become a vortex, a spiral that feels too strong to step away from. Yet step away we must. The platitudes of ‘they wouldn’t want to see us like this’, that we are ‘not carrying on as they would want’, don’t feel terribly helpful in the depths of pain and sadness. Yet, it is true. There us not to be a denying of the loss, of the hurt and even of the loss of purpose. They were only part of life’s purpose. Granted possibly a huge part for their lifetime and ones own. As an infant, the child is all consuming. Yet as Gavin grew and learnt, my purpose as mum went from doing everything to nurture his survival reduced and evolved. A letting him become his own person, to make his own choices. Hopefully secure in that I would always love and support his choices. That’s where ’empty nest syndrome’ may cause depression, because they are no longer a sole purpose. There is our own life to be filled with other human shaped purposes, our soul purposes to live as best we can with what we have of our own self being. So yes, I can understand that depression fits into the stages of grief, but did I feel that? In honesty and with hind sight? No. I had already shifted purpose to a supporting role. I was already letting go, letting him lead his life. I was a smaller part of his life than I had been when he was a child.