Tag: connections

I’ll Bet You Didn’t Know

I’ll bet you didn’t know that I’m a suicide survivor.

But first, I want to share a happy memory of my husband, Pablo. It’s fall, my favorite season. We lived in Metro Denver, CO, and often planned trips to visit some national parks nearby. This trip was to see the Grand Canyon during Thanksgiving week. But first, we stopped at Zion National Park.

The flaming red maples along the Riverside walk at Zion National Park in Utah stirred my desire to remember this day, 11/22/2007. I stopped to take this photo as Pablo continued walking. I wonder now what was going through his mind. What emotions were stirring? Did he enjoy the quiet grandeur as much as I did?

What prompted me to do this now?

Although my Substack publication is about grief, I don’t mention that suicide is a part of my grief. I’ve never written publicly about being a suicide survivor.

My husband, Pablo, took his own life a little over ten years ago in September 2014. I thought the different therapists I saw after his life ended, the suicide survivor group, and the more recent grief recovery coaching would have worked some miracle healing.

It didn’t.

There are no miracles in grief healing.

The healing process has been slow, often hindered by my choices of avoidance, stuffing down emotions, and allowing guilt to invade my thoughts.

But a few painful realizations and aha moments mark my journey stepping up the staircase of grief toward joy.

One of the aha moments was realizing that writing about my relationship with my husband and his suicide might help someone alter the course of their lives positively.

The synchronicities continue

I’m reading these two books because I am also on Substack. Paul Crenshaw’s book, This One Will Hurt You,  is for a Book Club with Jeannie Ewing, and I was led to buy A Year to Clear.

I’m reading Stephanie Bennett Vogt’s book because I’m starting another home decluttering. I didn’t realize how much clutter was still in my home and my heart. Today, I start Day 9 in A Year to Clear.

suicide survivorAs I start each essay in This One Will Hurt You, I experience an element of fear. Will this one hurt me the most? Or will it make me laugh, like Of Little Faith did? Fear or not, I move forward. Life can be challenging, but we choose how to meet those challenges.

And Pablo still reaches out

Today, he feels nearby.

As I was writing this post, I looked up at the clock on my computer and saw 10:23 a.m. Pablo was born on October 23rd, and this time catches my attention multiple times each week. Today, it feels like a message from the other side: Pablo is with me, telling me it’s okay to share our story.

Does your loved one reach out to you beyond the veil?

I’d love to hear your tender experiences in the comments.

Follow the Dance of Your Dreams

Follow the dance of your dreams. Then, when everything seems to block your path, take a deep breath and strengthen your resolve.

Follow the Dance of Your Dreams

Allow your path to flow around obstacles, thanking them for helping you see the importance of your desire to follow through to the next crossroad.

My path includes dipping my toe into my community. So when a new friend told me about contra dances, it was an obvious inroad to meeting people while enjoying a fun evening.

What is a Contra Dance?

First, I wanted to know the answer to this question. A search for “contra dances near me” returned the Boone Country Dancers. It’s almost impossible to describe the experience. The most important fact is that genuine joy permeates the dance hall.

A contra dance is uniquely simple yet deeply complicated. All dances in my area offer a minimum of thirty-minute pre-dance instruction. The caller led us through the basic moves without music, gradually added some live music, and by the end, we flawlessly executed a contra dance.

Perhaps This was a Test

After understanding the concept of contra dancing, it was time to find one. The next dance was the following Saturday night at the Blowing Rock American Legion, 30 minutes from home. As you may have read last week, I was overdoing so much that Spirit stepped in to help. With my energy so scattered, it wasn’t surprising that I experienced a severe, short bout of dizziness on Thursday afternoon as I started to step into the shower. As my week calmed down, there was more room to consider adding something fun to my life.

Perhaps the dizziness contributed to the next stumbling block to attending my first contra dance.

As I sat waiting for my hairdresser Friday afternoon, I searched for a funkier short hairstyle. The results included a photo of Jaime Lee Curtis. I’d admired her bold short style for years but pointed out a less severe option to my hair stylist.

We talked as she snipped, and before I knew it, the floor was thick with my hair! Was this another reason to chicken out of the contra dance?

The Theme is Fun

A bout with dizziness and an unexpected pixie haircut would not keep me from my plan.

I put a raincoat on, left 10 minutes early, and parked close to the front doors with an umbrella poised above me. It had been raining for over two days. But I wasn’t going to let the weather stop me now.

I paused undercover before the front door, shaking the rain out of my umbrella. As I hung up my coat and stashed my umbrella, I reached into my pocket for the ten-dollar bill, my final requirement for admission.

One of the Volunteer hosts welcomed newcomers and first-time contra dancers (like me) with smiles, encouragement, and a special button to wear. In addition to friendly faces, the button guaranteed helpful tips from experienced people while I danced. There were no mistakes. Instead, those experienced partners helped me catch up quickly as we flowed back into the moves.

My first partner during the pre-dance instruction was an experienced contra dancer in her late thirties. Many more experienced dancers came early to help the newbies. After a few dances, people filled the hall, and I sat down for a breather. Soon, a young man asked me to dance. I was back on the floor, remembering more and more moves.

The dances became more complicated as the night wore on. Then, taking a break, I filmed the feet of the dancers in this short video of the dance. The violinist had switched to a recorder, which he delivered beautifully.

My Takeaways

Even though I was one of the oldest women in the dance hall, three men asked me to be their partner. Two were young enough to be my sons. The smiles on their faces added to the joy radiating from both my face and my heart. My last partner was George, who was near my age. He has been contra-dancing since 1980 and calls dances in Winston-Salem, North Carolina. Their first dance is next Tuesday night. So I’m spreading my wings next week too.

Many small steps brought me to my first contra dance. You can do this too.

  • Reach out to a new friend
  • Listen to their suggestions to meet new people
  • Find an event near you
  • Step over each hurdle placed in your path
  • Follow through to the event
  • Walk through the door

How did I manage this when I’ve not followed through so many other times?

Going with the flow allowed my natural inclinations and strengths to ease me down the road to joy.

  • Connectedness – realizing the synchronicity throughout
  • Harmony – taking the time to listen to my friend
  • Input – the more information I gather, the easier it is to understand
  • Responsibility – showing up and walking through the door
  • Positivity – I saw the haircut as fun

It’s rewarding to look at my top five strengths from my CliftonStrengths assessment and see how they show up when I follow the dance of my dreams.

Find Joy Instead of Despair

Mom’s third day in the hospital dawned as I assessed my morning routine. In my quest to find joy instead of despair, I learned to practice self-care in my caregiver role. Even so, there were little messages that I heard but didn’t heed. For example, I didn’t take time to make breakfast, looking up Bojangles’ sandwiches. But I forgot to download the ordering app. So instead, I completed an abridged version of my Reiki practice, showered, and put on makeup, including mascara.

Find Joy Instead of Despair

When I arrived at Bojangles, I tried to go inside. The staff locked it. I backed out of my parking space and pulled into the drive-up line behind two men on foot. They had motorcycle t-shirts on, and there were motorcycles in the parking lot.

I noticed the pile of large river rocks where the speaker and menu had been. The drive-up line moved slowly. As we neared the temporary ordering setup, I heard the noisy highway floating through my open windows and felt the cool morning breeze. I

It was amusing to watch the motorcycle guys order. They jumped on and backed off the sensor plate to let the Bojangles employee know they wanted to order. The taller of the two bent himself nearly in two at the speaker stand. Then it was my turn to drive up and order. The long line behind me was impressive, snaking around the far side of the building.

I closed my passenger side window to reduce the noise. Waiting patiently, I listened for acknowledgment from the speaker stand. Finally, I shouted at the pedestrians in front of me, “Guys! Hey, guys! Motorcycle guys!” Eventually, the shorter man turned my way and started to approach. Then a voice from the speaker stand said, “Are you talking to me?” I answered, “No, but I’d like to.” We all laughed. I placed my order. It was so amusing; I took a photo of the two guys in front of me from my windshield.

As they approached the drive-up window, one said, “This is a first for me, walking in the drive-up at Bojangle’s!”

Mom’s Third Day at the Hospital

Soon I was backing into a space in the hospital parking lot. Gathering my purse, book, coffee travel cup, and changing my glasses, I locked the car and walked the familiar path to the temporary entrance of the hospital. A new face was staffing the makeshift welcome table. After sanitizing my hands and placing my mask on my face, I approached.

“Do you know where you are headed?” she asked.

“Yes, I’m very familiar with the route.”

“I’ve heard that a lot this morning,” she replied.

As I walked through the gauntlet of chairs in the shared emergency room waiting area, I began the familiar path past walls striped with blue painter’s tape. The young man who was patching drywall all week was absent. I missed saying hello or commenting on his steady progress.

You Never See it Coming

Stepping into the waiting elevator, I pressed the button for the second floor. As the doors opened, I saw two unfamiliar masked faces at the nurse’s station.

“Good morning, you guys are new!”

One of the women, striking in her deep blue scrubs that matched the blue of her kind eyes, had moved toward me. I noticed her name tag said ‘Brenda.’ I turned left for the short walk to Mom’s room. Just before I arrived at the closed door, the nurse, who had discreetly followed me, spoke.

“Are you Dawn?”

“Yes.”

“I just put the phone down as I heard the elevator. I’m sorry, but your mother just passed.”

Brenda was ready for my reaction. She took the coffee mug out of my hand as I covered my audible sob. Her sweet arms hugged me as I continued to cry. Finally, my need to purge grief subsided, her hug loosened, and our eyes met.

“Spend as much time as you need.”

The room was oddly silent as I walked to my familiar spot next to the bed. Mom was serene; her closed eyes had lost their tightness. Although her body had ceased to function, I felt her soul nearby.

“Hi, Mom. It’s Dawn. It’s all over. Don’t worry about anything. You can be with Daddy now.”

I stroked her still warm forehead, “I love you.”

I closed the hospital room door and headed for the nurse’s station to thank them. Then, out of the blue, I heard myself telling the story of my funny experience in the drive-up at Bojangles. I knew Mom’s soul was there, too, laughing along with us.

Find Joy Instead of Despair

Hospitals and death can be harrowing experiences. Or they can be joyful. Allowing my emotion’s full impact when I had the loving support of nurse Brenda opened up space for the joy of release. The release was for my Mom and me. Furthermore, it gave me the freedom to relieve the natural stress felt by the hospital staff.

Having experienced the deaths of two husbands, my father and now my mother, in the past seven years has served as a primer for grieving and letting go.

Mom and I discussed death many times. She and I were together at Dad’s passing. And both were adamant in their wish to allow death it’s due. I’m grateful Mom’s end of life wasn’t prolonged and that the hospital staff supported our decisions.

My understanding of the importance of self-care, especially in the role of caregiver, has brought me peace. I have learned how to find joy instead of despair. So, may your life experiences bring you growth toward fulfilling your purpose.