Tending the heart's ache

I've been in a long walk with loss, supporting my mother through her journey with Alzheimer's. Cognitive decline is often called "the long goodbye", as it is a prolonged, slow way to lose a loved one. Through this experience and others like it, I've learned to turn towards my heart break, and tend my heart's ache. I've cultivated an unflinching commitment to (as much as possible) feel my feelings in real time and to do so without self-judgement.

Several people in different parts of my life have shared recently that they are in a time of profound grief, and feel like they're walking alone. They want to resource themselves with space to be honest about what their situation evokes, but they have not found a support group aligned with what their spirit needs. This was my experience, too. So I'm creating the community I was longing for, and will serve as facilitator as we hold one another through the holidays.

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An altar to the "long goodbye"

I remember a day a few years back. I was having a caregiver's stack attack - a sense of overwhelm, expressing as anger and resentment. My dear husband asked softly, "I wonder if it's easier to feel angry than to feel sad?" He waited a moment for that to sink in before adding, "I wonder if you could make an altar to the long goodbye as a place to hold your grief?" It was a very gentle gesture, but I heard myself reply in a child's voice, "well, I don't want to do that!" before I stormed down the hall.

It was then my turn to wonder: why was I now mad at him? Of course, I was protecting the soft spot he'd touched. While rage and resentment have their place, in that moment, that place was serving as a wall between me and my grief. Turning towards it was going to take guts.

Over the next weeks, I designated a new little place, one outside of myself on a little shelf, to hold some mementos that signified my memories, my love, and my loss. In so doing, I found the room to breathe. And from that breath, came gratitude.

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Many ways of knowing

It's been said that all healing happens in relationship. While I don't think that's exclusively true, I do believe that our heart's content (what it ethereally contains) and our heart's content (what brings us peace) is often best reflected in a caring circle of community. There are many ways of knowing what our hearts truly want and need. When we gather together, sometimes we can better discern the mending move that is ours to take. We can honor ourselves while caring for others or letting them go.

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A shared journey

This eight-week guided group is for people interested in co-creating a supportive container strong enough to hold the feelings that arise while we each navigate our labyrinths of loss. Weather we share or bring silence to any given moment, we will serve as reflections for one another's deep, still waters.