Staying with the pain of grief and loss - the other side of love.

Pain is what brings people to me.

Sometimes it's straight-forward pain, seeking help on how to deal with grief, loss or trauma; sometimes it's hidden pain, pain that has been pushed under for a very long time, and is resurfacing under the guise of anxiety or addiction.

Emotional pain can be so unbearable that we look for ways to dull it. As always, there are healthy and unhealthy ways to do that. But it seems that avoiding the pain altogether is not a good idea.

When we use the pain to connect to other people, when we create something out of it, we are more likely to come out of it at the other end relatively unharmed.

But what I really want to talk about today, is how feeling the pain is actually part of the recovery process from whatever it is that hurt us.

In the case of pain because of abuse or violence, its purpose is to tell us to "get out", to avoid those situations, and to become aware of patterns that harm us.

In the case of grief, having lost someone, the pain reminds us of the love we shared, of the things we did together, of the conversations we've had. It is a reminder of all the good, all the beautiful; and yes, it hurts terribly not to have them anymore, but see - how lucky are we to feel that, to have loved and been loved so well that we have something so big to miss!

So part of my work with clients around the issues of grief and loss are about trying to make sense, to see the meaning of those relationships, good or bad, and how they can grow from them.

It is about seeing that despite the fact that they may have missed out on their childhood because of violence or abuse, they not only survived, but became strong because of it.

Or how, when we lose a loved one, it can be an opportunity to reflect on how well we were loved.

And maybe, just maybe, it can also be an opportunity to reflect on how we can love more widely, better, how we can add to the lives of others, in a pure and selfless way, so we leave a faint trace after us, that continues to glow, long after we are gone.

Personal responsibility - it's all about our choices

My mantra has been "personal responsibility" for a while now, and I find myself trying to explain it on a regular basis. It comes hand in hand with the idea that we all have choices.

First of all, let me get one thing out of the way: when I say we all have choices, I don't mean that we have ALL the choices. We don't all have the choice to become neurosurgeons, or opera divas. We still differ in abilities, place where we're born, family background etc.

And, contrary to what "the Secret" has been telling you, it is not about choosing to be rich or famous.

But every situation in which we find ourselves has choices. And every choice we make, has a price. Let me give some concrete examples.

• You have suffered abuse in your childhood. You can choose to see yourself as a victim, who has no luck in life and is meant to always suffer: the price tag is probably further abuse unfortunately. Or you can choose to seek help, build up your confidence again until you realise you are a survivor, stronger for the ordeal you have been through; the price tag is confronting your past instead of avoiding it.
• Your parents are very unwell. You cannot change that. But you can choose to stop rushing and instead to take the two hours that seem necessary to do anything with them, you can choose to look after them to the best of your abilities, you can choose to be thankful for the time you still have together instead of lamenting what you have lost.
• Your husband - or your wife - mistreats you, on a regular basis. You could choose to stay and endure, which comes with the price tag of your self-esteem, and your personal safety, being eroded. Or you could choose to seek help, calling up a domestic violence help-line, speaking to lawyers, your friends, family, a counsellor until you feel strong enough to leave the abuse situation. Price tag: possibly financial, definitely an upheaval. 
• Let's be a bit more extreme. Through no fault of your own, you're condemned to 30 years in prison. What choices do you have left? Well, you can either consider your life is over, or work bloody hard to make sure that when you're released, you will change the system that saw you imprisoned. Impossible? Think Nelson Mandela...

But without considering life-threatening situations, we can use our personal responsibility in day-to-day situations.
Don't like meat and three veg every night? Choose to learn how to cook. Price tag? Not much really.
Hate your body? Choose to start exercising. Price tag? Temporary physical discomfort.
Don't like the way your kids talk to you? Choose to draw firmer boundaries. Price tag? It's easier to give in, so expect an uncomfortable transition.

Can you see a pattern here? You cannot choose to change others, but you can choose to change yourself or the way you handle others or see things. And personal responsibility means to stop using others as an excuse for your unhappiness or unhealthiness or insecurity or whatever it is that you think is holding you back.

I'd like to finish this post with a few words about Victor Frankl, an Austrian doctor who spent years in concentration camps in Germany during WWII, where successively his mother, his father, his wife and his brother were murdered. I honestly cannot imagine a bleaker situation than his.
Yet he strove successfully to find meaning, that even though the Nazis could take everything from him, they could not take away his choice of how to think about his situation.
He survived, having made a difference to many of his fellow inmates, and continued after the war to work as a doctor and psychiatrist. He remarried, and had a child.

Every time I think of him, I am reminded that my own choices are manifold.