Tag: change

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Why don’t we talk about grief?

The title alone may have made you hesitant to continue reading, I get it. When we think about grief what comes to mind? Me? I think about wailing, moaning, sobbing, weeping, tearing at your clothes. Basically, I think about what Hollywood has created grieving to be, or what I’ve observed watching the news. Grieving is usually associated with what people do when someone they love or care about dies. Absent death, most of us don’t think about grieving, much less talk about grief. And yet, grief is complex and exists on a multitude of levels we may not otherwise contemplate. I wonder why we don’t talk about grief?

Where does grief reside?

18. The age when I first experienced death in my family of someone close and the subsequent grief. My grandfather died unexpectedly and receiving the news on the rotary wall phone in my dorm room in my freshman year in college, I collapsed to the floor. My legs unable to sustain my body. I felt the loss deep in my body, in my gut and the pain persisted for weeks. But your skin gets thicker through life and though I could trace the reasons, I’ve learned to hold grief I’m experiencing inside.

Tightly wound around what may otherwise be a molten center, my emotions are ready to ooze out and flatten all in their path. I am well familiar with the tightening of my gut and deep inhalation. And for as many tears as fell from my blue eyes over the years, they have been dry the past few. Atypically dry, perhaps even abnormally so. But do I talk about it? Of course not. Nope. Because I’m an adult now and it’s my job to handle my business…read that and other lies I’ve told myself in the upcoming series of the same name…not really, but I could (and couldn’t we all?)

What is grief?

Our good friend Merriam Webster defines grief as:

1a: deep and poignant distress caused by or as if by bereavement

b: a cause of such suffering life’s joys and griefs

I’d argue that Webster’s definition is a starting point. The multiple levels of grief push the bounds of a simple definition because when “…experience change, something has to die.” These words by Brené Brown have stuck with me because I would not have included change as a cause of grieving, certainly wouldn’t have caused me to talk about grief. Through observation though, I know it’s true.

And I can see it coming.

We can have grief within otherwise joyful experiences

Right around the corner, I’m moving from the city in which I’ve lived for 9 years across the county. I’ll be close to a larger portion of my family and that brings me great joy. It’s a both/and situation. I feel both joy at the closeness to family and impending grief at leaving a place where I’ve lived at lot of life. I’ll leave treasured friends. A state I was born and raised in and which – contrary to many – still love. A house which…if these walls could talk, boy howdy, they’d make the talk show rounds.

I’m joyful and anticipatorily grieving at the same time. Two opposite things can be true simultaneously.

When we experience grief, we need to recognize it for what it is

Our tendency is to rush past grief, but the risk is allowing pieces of it to lodge in our soul and continue to fester. Brené shared in this article about healing through grief:

“We run from grief because loss scares us,

yet our hearts reach toward grief

because the broken parts want to mend.”

We may not consciously want to recognize our grieving, but our bodies do. He or she tells you, deep inside, how you’re feeling. And that needs to be mended. We can make steps towards healing our grief by acknowledging it’s there. Talking about grief.

Grief is not limited to death of a body. Grief includes the death of an idea, a dream, a situation, a relationship, a season of life. Grieving can include embracing the joy you experienced, grief you’re feeling and giving it a place to be seen rather than rushing by with blinders on hoping to escape it. If you don’t want to talk about it, write it down, perhaps for no one else but you.  “Writing helps you metabolize your life,” Allison Fallon – The Power of Writing it Down.

No one escapes change or loss and the subsequent grief. As much as we’d like to deny it. You may have experienced loss in multitudes of ways. So, how can you grieve? How can you ‘mend your broken parts’? As I drive away from this house in less than two weeks, I will grieve. And…I will talk about my grief. We’re not on the journey alone and need to process our collective emotions – together. Be there for you and be there for your friends. Both/and…joy and grief.  Be Brave. Lisa

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Why change is hard

change

Did you ever see the movie We bought a zoo? Yeah, me neither. Yet, it was the first thing that came to mind after I did a thing this week. I bought a house…in another state…sight unseen (I had a proxy)…on the other side of the country. Am I excited? Yes. Am I terrified? Yes. I am all the things. Lest you think I’ve lost my marbles; the purchase wasn’t entirely out of the blue. I’d been contemplating making a move because the bulk of my family is across the country, but the timing was ‘out there.’ And, the move won’t only be in my residence. All changes I desired. So, why did it feel like I’d swallowed wrong and was choking? Because change is hard.

Why change is hard

It is. Change rarely rises to the top of anyone’s bucket list, and with good reason. When we go through change, whether it be in our personal lives, as an organization, or our thinking around a long held believe, we’re leaving something behind. We allow a process, a relationship, a practice, a belief to die. Although our destination is positive, it doesn’t diminish the fact that we’re leaving something, and that thing may be one we treasured.

When I make a significant change, my inner voice begs me to return to the old way. Because many of us, myself included, are creatures of habit. We might park in the same place, eat at the same restaurants, order the same food, drive the same way to work according to our habit. Introduce a new variable and it throws us off our game. Our internal memory craves to return to the old way. I use the word discombobulated to describe the feeling inside when parts of my world in a flux, in the midst of change. I desire to restore order. But that may not be what is best.

Change is well studied

Google wouldn’t pull up 5,370,000,000 results (literally) when I type in change if it were a well-oiled machine. People are continuously working to process improve it and producing models for how to do it well.  As defined by Meriam Webster, change is a verb with a variety of applications:

1a: to make different in some particular; b: to make radically different; c: to give a different position, course, or direction

2a: to replace with another; b: to make a shift from one to another; c: to exchange for an equivalent sum of money; d: to undergo a modification; e: to put fresh clothes or covering on

Nearly every single definition applies to my situation. Not even kidding. Words like ‘radically’ land with me because that’s what change can feel like.

Because change is hard, you can find 8 models for change in a 2 second internet search. One I’m partial to is by Kurt Lewin which has 3 phases: Unfreeze, Change, Refreeze. Unfreeze challenges the way things are done; in Change we look for new ways to do things; and, our change takes hold in Refreeze. A similar process is Form, Storm, Norm, Perform. You create, brainstorm ideas, create new standards and processes and finally, perform.  We transform through the change process over and over in our personal and professional lives.

Why some change feels harder

Despite, or maybe, in spite, of our regular journey through change, some are markedly harder than others. When we change, in the words of the Brady’s…you’ve got to rearrange. Buying a zoo, er…house across the country, isn’t the only change I’m making. For the past four years, I’ve wrestled with the direction of my career. After 30 years in the same field, I’ve been itching to transition into a new capacity. Specifically, coaching. I became a certified coach and operate a side business. But without full attention, the side business hasn’t gained traction.

I’d ruminate about leaving my job and branching out on my own. I’ve worked since I was 13 years old but always for someone else, which brings stability. On my own? That’s a white knuckled drive on a snowy mountain road. But, early in 2020, after rolling it around in my head for 3 years, I was ready. Ready to make a plan that is.

And, as fate would have it (as fate does), a friend from my coaching program asked if I wanted to start a business with her. Since that phone call in the Spring of 2020, we’ve formed a company, Wayfinders Talent, and are in the form/storm phase. We’ll be coaching leaders to bring out the best performance in themselves and others. It’s the culmination of several years of unfreezing.

Once you decide to change, then what?

Which means I’m transitioning out of my day job. Slowly at first, but eventually it will be time. I’m not exactly sure when, but it will be time. Akin to buying a home across the country, I’m excited and terrified at the same time about the transition. I’ll leave stellar people behind and that part of change is never easy. But I’ll be building a new business that will change lives.

Given that I am in the ‘creature of habit’ camp, I want to know what’s next. Biologically, our brains want to know how the story ends and change doesn’t always afford that. Again, change is hard. Does that produce stress in me? Yes. It would for anyone who’s similarly situated. I have to remind myself of what Glennon Doyle write in Untamed, “we can do hard things.” The only way we can get through change is…to change. I hope you’ll stick around for the white knuckled journey and consider what changes you’re making, or need to be made, in your own life. It may be hard, but it may be time. You’ll know if it is in your gut. I did. Be brave my friends. Lisa

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Why is change so difficult?

In preparation for an upcoming series of articles my company plans to publish, I headed to the great encyclopedia of Google earlier this week. My business partner had shared the phrase, “Nothing is certain but change.” Our conversation centered around that idea and the question we continued returning to was, if nothing is certain but change, why is change so difficult for the vast majority of humans?

Change has been with us since the beginning

I wanted to get my hands on the origin of the concept of the certainty of change. I had to look way back to 500 BCE philosopher Heraclitus of Ephesus. Thank goodness someone had boiled down his philosophies so that I could understand them because it seems he has known as the dark philosopher… his writings were that difficult to understand. My eyes would have glazed, I’m quite confident of it, if I’d reviewed his original manuscripts. Beyond the fact that they were probably in Greek. Greek to me. (I couldn’t resist that one…low hanging fruit.) Heraclitus’ claims are summed up as:

Panta Rhei (“life is flux”) recognizing the essential, underlying essence of life as change. Nothing in life is permanent, nor can it be, because the very nature of existence is change. Change is not just a part of life in Heraclitus’ view, it is life itself.

We see Panta Rhei played out in the world around us. As I write, it’s late fall and my yard is covered with leaves. If I wait long enough, say, around March, the trees will again be covered with leaves and flowers. It happens around us every single day, this process. Yet, so often we’re resistant to change. Not surprisingly, there are underlying reasons why change is so difficult.

The devil you know

Consider a situation you continue returning to despite the fact it’s uncomfortable, or even painful. A job that you show up begrudgingly, day after day, because while you are miserable, it’s a familiar misery. Or the relationship you fight to maintain despite the fatal flaws you know are not going to heal. A habit you maintain because, without it, you feel unanchored and lost. That’s the root of it. We stay in a situation that’s unhealthy, or unproductive, or miserable for us because we know it. In junior high, we even wrote in yearbooks, “Don’t go changing.”

Think about it. At that job. You know what’s expected of you, how to perform successfully. Without the job, you’d be unanchored. Turns out, humans hate uncertainty, and change creates uncertainty. When we’re unanchored, or in a state of uncertainty, our brains trigger a threat response in our limbic system. Instead, when we find the answer, complete the equation, our brains are rewarded with hits of dopamine, that familiar, feel good, hormone. Brené Brown equates it to story, in that, our brains are wired for story. We look for the beginning, middle and end…certainty. When we don’t have one of the elements, we move to story…complete the cycle, get the hit. Usually, that story is the one we’re making up.

We want to know what’s going to happen next. And since life doesn’t always give us a roadmap, hence, change is so difficult.

We must choose to take the first step

Back to the job, the relationship, the habit… we know when something needs to be different. We do. If we’re listening to our guts, they speak to us plainly. But that first step is terrifying. We meet our friend uncertainty on that first step. Damn, not that guy again. Temptation to retreat to our safe existence is strong. So strong, if fact, often we do. Often, what you’re taking is the 470,256th first step. But, when you’re uncomfortable enough, you’ll keep trying.

And although change is difficult, once you take a step, you might find you keep moving forward. You can start to see the light in your situation. I’ve heard from dozens of people who’ve shared that they spent years in a job, or at a company they didn’t like. Too afraid to change, to lose what sense of certainty they had in that situation, because even negative certainty is certainty. But once they left, the feeling of “Why did I wait so long???” washed over their entire body.

It’s not easy, but worth it

I’ve shared snippets of a former relationship before wherein I was told, “You’ve changed,” and it wasn’t a “Yay you, awesome, you’ve changed.” Instead, it was an accusation. In fact, I had changed, because, we’re allowed. And the woman that was emerging as the change took hold was different. More assured, confident and willing to be in a space of uncertainty.

Liz Gilbert described a sensation that happens when we make a change that causes us to leave our former beliefs (amongst other things). The group, whether family, friends, colleagues, church, that you’ve been part of will fight against your change. They’ll use any means to draw you back into to the ‘safe’ place with them. You might hear comments such as, “you’re making some dangerous decisions,” or, “you’ll miss us,” or, “you are straying from the path.” You might even be told that you won’t survive outside the group. Liz calls that “tribal shaming,” and unfortunately, most of us have experienced it.

When do you feel that resistance, maybe from a person or group, in the form of tribal shaming, or other strategies, or the resistance within yourself the most? When you’re on the right path. Truly. So, when you feel that pull, keep going. Even when you’re afraid, keep going. Why is change so difficult? Because science. Because other people. But when you feel the pull to return to the old ways, in the immortal words of Dori, in Finding Nemo, “Just keep swimming.” You’re brave my friends. Keep swimming. Lisa

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Asking yourself, who ARE you?

Decide who you areBe a good girl. Words likely spoken to every little girl at one point or another. While I don’t specifically recall the moment the good girl message sunk into my conscious, it’s as attached as a small child is to an all-day sucker. While a “good girl” is never specifically defined, the message is clear. And the message starts with don’t.

Don’t get in trouble. Don’t stay out late. Don’t associate with the wrong crowd. Don’t get bad grades. Don’t be irresponsible. Don’t, don’t don’t. Depending upon who your parent was and their ideal for a “good girl,” you received variations of that message.

And they stick. Like the sucker. I never saw the external message as external to who I was. While slip-ups happened, on occasion, I followed the good girl model. Conceptually, it’s a solid model. The idea was to keep us on the straight and narrow so that we would become responsible adults. Which I am.

Yet, if we’re not careful, the good girl message becomes like a piece of Velcro in the dryer. Everything sticks to it. Descriptors that we may not want but which close enough to “good girl,” that a pile on effect happens. While we’re preoccupied with marriage, kids, career, other people narrative of what life “should” look like we stay in the rut. Honestly, it’s easier than bucking the system.

Perhaps you stay in groove. Or, if you’re like me, you reach the middle part of life and get curious. You expose yourself to different ways of thinking, approaches that challenge your status quo. Brené Brown was my gateway. In simple terms, her books opened my thinking and asked me to give the “good girl” a break.

In the pursuit of a wholehearted life, I’m using Brené’s Guideposts for Wholehearted Living, starting with Authenticity – Letting go of what other people think. The good girl is a byproduct of following what other people think. But if you don’t ascribe to the good girl, does that make you bad? It does not.

The truth is, when you drop the expectation, the label, you have the chance to look at who you are at your core and what you believe. It takes some work, digging around in your heart and mind, because other people’s expectations are entwined with your own by midlife.

It’s not a one and done activity. It’s a journey. Letting go of what other people think doesn’t mean abandonment of every last expectation you’ve adhered to. It means asking if you hold that ideal as one of your own. You might. Or you may not. It’s your choice. Your journey is not creating a new you, it’s discovering who your authentic self is, at your core. What you believe, how you want to show up in the world.

Don’t be surprised if others in your life notice that you’re changing, with mixed reception. You’re allowed to change. It’s healthy and it’s normal. Wholehearted living requires you to have courage, but each of us have that courage within us. YOU have the courage within you. Ask yourself today if you’re living wholeheartedly, or if you need to take time for reflection and sorting out who you are and what you believe. It’s our journey, friends, and I’m taking it with you.

 

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Looking at change differently

Flame to ChangeI LOVE CHANGE! Said no one, ever. Admittedly, my friend said it to me the other day, but she’s an anomaly. A lovely anomaly. Truth is, change can be difficult. In order to get to the new state, whatever it may be, you must end another. Oftentimes we approach change as though it’s a train. Everybody on board, into your new seats and away we pull from the station. Leaving behind the old way. No time for long, emotional goodbyes on the platform. It’s on to the new we go, looking back is for suckers.

Except.

Inherently change results in the ‘death’ of what was, and that comes with emotions that, if ignored, may have a damaging effect.

Change is often associated with business. The notion that ‘without change, we will perish.’ While there is truth to that, we encounter change in a wide array of places in our life, but don’t tie those to the word, hence we treat them differently. But they’re still change.

Your first, and then last child leaves for college.

You face a change in job.

After living in one place for many years, you move somewhere that’s altogether different.

You enter the middle of your life.

A relationship shifts…and then ends.

On the surface, we may not look at those instances as change, but they are. And with all certainty I can say they produce emotions that are far reaching. Until recently, one emotion hid in a corner. There, but I couldn’t quite identify it until someone else named it for me.

Grief.

Change results in grief. The closer the change is to us, the more significant the grief yet, we rarely take the time to acknowledge it, sit with it, process it.

I’m amid a change that, on the scale of 1-10 is an 11. It hurts, is raw and painful. In the several months I’ve been going through it I’ve often wondered if it should feel differently. In some respects, it felt like the wind got knocked out of me and I can’t quite catch my breath, and in others I feel relief. The conflicting emotions were confusing, and I wasn’t sure what to do with another one, numbness. Feeling nothing. New to me and arose as a defense mechanism, most certainly.

After the continuous swirl confusing emotions had continued beyond the point where I thought I could soldier through them any longer, I sought professional help. And exhaled. Within a short time, a new word surfaced that made sense to me and which I hadn’t considered. It was the one hiding in the corner, grief.

As though a light bulb had illuminated a previously dark space, I could see it. Of course, it was grief, yes! But now what? Oh, you mean I have to actually do something with it? Indeed. I was handed a tool that walked me through emotions I experienced, some named, others unnamed, all valid. And isn’t that the case for any of us in times of change? Sometimes we can’t put a name to the emotions we’re feeling, but once we either figure it out, after long suffering, or another person names it for us, it’s as though the final puzzle piece clicks into place.

Grief is normally associated with death, yet, when we think about death expansively, isn’t that what happens in change? One state ceases? Unless we acknowledge the ending, the new is tainted. Stained with the unresolved emotion we carry forward. We must grieve the loss and that phase may be brief, or it may span a longer time. But we must give it the time and space it warrants, or we’ll experience the aftermath.

Over a couple months, I worked through the grief exercise which culminated in reading it aloud. Yep, instead of simply having the thoughts in my head or on paper, I spoke them. As much as I wasn’t looking forward to that step, there was something cathartic about it. The exhale, feelings returning to my core. But once it was complete, I knew that holding on to those papers, what essentially was a letter, would only result in my returning to them. And there is no value in that. In any change, continuing to return to the emotions we feel during transition result in being stuck there. Which is counterintuitive to the process of moving through the grief cycle, feeling the feelings, in the first place. You don’t need to keep picking that scab.

So, I burned them. Ceremoniously, yet without fanfare, I placed them in the fireplace and lit a match. What I’d spent a couple months processing was ashes within minutes. When we go through change, whether personally or in business, we need to give grief the time it’s due. If we don’t, it’ll hide in the corner and come out in unhealthy ways. Destructive to you and the people around you. While not an easy process, one that is entirely worth the effort.

What change do you need to process? Give more time to? Realize the grief that is hiding, waiting for you to finally see it’s face? Friends, that’s the journey. Believe me, we’re in it together and my heart is for you. Sending you all the love. Be brave.

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Becoming you

Adult CourageWhen I was young, many of my daydreams surrounded growing up, getting married, having babies… standard dreams, at least that’s what I thought. What I saw happen with my friends was a detour from that path. Many of my friends waited to get married, had no kids, pursued their careers, they made different choices. But not me, I took the path I thought I was supposed to in order to truly “adult.” I got married, had my babies, and at the same time, did the career thing.

That’s what many of us do, we follow the path that someone else has laid out for us. The plans that the collective “they” said we were supposed to go down. The plans that were supposed to lead to lifelong adulting happiness. And sometimes that worked out, at least for a while.

In talking to many other women in the middle of their life, what I notice is that many of us did what society expected of us. Happily. Once the kids were out of the house though, the prescribed route started to feel uncomfortable. Now what?

We entered the stage of life where we have choices. In reality, we had choices all along but were so engrained in the societally defined lifepath that it didn’t even register. But now, we start to experience discontent, or feel out of alignment with our own lives. The thought of making a change is scary.

Continuing the path we’re on is certainly an option. It would provide a smooth slide into retirement. But we want different qualities in our lives now. A fulfillment that we haven’t yet experienced. One that comes from reaching into ourselves and pulling out our unique gifts and talents that may have sat on a shelf for 25 years. That’s where courage enters the picture.

It may be that in order to pull out our unique selves, to bring our gifts to light, we take a shift from the paved road. It’s a different phase of adulting, one that is less defined, honestly, it can be a bit scary. We can continue doing the same thing we’ve always done, comfortable, but if it doesn’t match who we are on the inside anymore, is that how we really want to ride out our lives?

Brené Brown explained that whenever you have change, something ‘dies.’ Whether it’s a way of life, a career… and if you’re wise, you realize that and allow yourself to grieve the loss. Doing so better prepares you for what’s next. You can change into who you truly want to be. It’s not that who you were wasn’t right. It was. For a time. But it’s ok to change. Healthy even. Change to who you are becoming.

Now is the time to explore who you are, what you want in this phase of life. What “adult” do you want to be today and for this phase of your life? Even if you’re not in the middle, you have choices. Not always easy, bumpy at times, but leading to the you that’s waiting inside of you. Becoming is beautiful… I pray you are courageous and pursue you.