When Perfect is the Enemy of Good

I’ve been toying with the idea of blogging for a couple of years. I’m “in the thick of it” with school age children, building a practice, and just the busyness of life. It’s been easy for me to put it off. “I’m too busy.” If I’m honest, though, there’s more. I envisioned meticulously researched blog posts with references and footnotes, thoroughly edited for grammar and punctuation… probably something that would have ended up looking more graduate school paper than thoughtful reflections on the human experience. I’ve come to realize- I was aspiring to write something perfect. Iron clad. Immune to criticism. Not a human therapist’s reflections on life, sometimes relevant to my own (because… even therapists have their own messy lives, we’re just trained in a certain set of skills and tools that we work to apply to ourselves as well). Perfect was the enemy of good.

So, hopped up on Brene’ Brown* and budding self-compassion, my new aim is to, when inspiration strikes, provide for those who care to read my thoughtful reflections, sometimes brief, on topics professionally relevant to those I serve, life in general, and occasionally my own journey if I believe it to be professionally relevant. See that run-on sentence and those excessive commas? Yup, that’s me. It’s how I think and talk. Hello, there.

*Brene’ Brown, I call her the social worker’s social worker, talks a lot about the power of vulnerability and authenticity. “Authenticity is the daily practice of letting go of who we think we are supposed to be and embracing who we are,” she says. I could write formal papers on “Twenty strategies for….”, but there’s already plenty of that out there. (Not saying I won’t ever do it, insert wink emoji here). I’m going to strive instead to make a space to reflect and connect as an authentic human, mom, partner, and therapist.

I would challenge you to ask yourself if there are any areas of you life and relationships where perfection has been the enemy of good, or even great, and join me as I travel the road of the authentic, imperfect, good.

-Kelly

On Grief Anniversaries

On Grief Anniversaries

1.12.2020

Today marks the 6th anniversary of my mom’s death… and it is reminding me of All. The. Things. All the things I know in my head as someone who has worked in the field of grief and loss for many years but are totally different when you know them with your heart.

Things like…

Grief has no timeline. Some years have been harder than others, different parts hurt more at different times. I couldn’t have predicted that approaching six years I would be trying not to cry while grocery shopping.

There will be grief waves- unbidden waves of emotion that come, often triggered by an unexpected smell, sound, song, sight, sensation. SUPER awesome when you’re in target, by the way.

Secondary losses are part of grief. Over the years there have been many big and small changes that have somehow created a much bigger cumulative loss. Relationships have shifted and changed, there are less people around who knew her stories, places change, people change. She feels father away.

Grief evolves. The things I grieved initially are not necessarily the things that make my heart ache (physically ache) today. And, by the way, grief evolves US, too. I think about how the rushing water carved the Grand Canyon. It softened some edges and made others sharper, it created depth.

Anger is part of grief. It. Is. Not. Fair. and, just because someone dies doesn’t mean it wasn’t complicated- there’s the hard stuff to sort through, too.

And my own personal addition, not found in any book I’ve read so far, parenting while grieving is bullsh*t. Sorry for the swear. I could say bologna, but it just doesn’t cut it. Your kids aren’t going to take it easy on you on a grief anniversary or on a rough day because, well, they’re kids and they are busy doing their own growing.

All of that to say… it doesn’t matter the year. Make room for the mess. Let the feelings come, if you can. Be alone if you need to (and can make it happen, see last point above), ask someone to come over or do something if what you need is to not be alone. Stay in bed or take a walk. Ask yourself, “what do I need?” If it feels helpful, do a ritual that connects you- buy their favorite flower, watch their favorite movie, light a candle, share a memory, volunteer. Reach out to a therapist. Make room.

From one griever to another, thinking of you and making room for you if you are struggling, too.

-Kelly

It’s All Grief, Baby

It's All Grief, Baby.

Ok, so that sounds a little flip. and to be fair, it’s an overgeneralization. It is, however, what pops into my head so often as I’m struck by the thread of grief that runs through so many seemingly unconnected struggles and events.

There is grief not only in death, but in the loss of what we assume the world to be when we experience a trauma, loss of trust, loss of safety, in betrayal by a spouse or friend, in the “this isn’t what I expected” of new parenthood or a new marriage, in the loss of ourselves as we were following a medical diagnosis. There can even be an element of grief in the transitions in life that hold a bittersweet quality- the babies going off to school, the children turning into teenagers, the empty nest, the new move, the new chapter, the BIG birthday. It’s all grief, baby.

In all of these, grief cannot be ignored. In fact, the pushing away of it, the minimizing of it, only serves to demand more and more of our energy. Kind of like trying to keep a beach ball submerged under water. You take your hand off it for a second, don’t have the right angle on it, and it pops to the surface. That takes a lot of energy, sometimes more than just holding it, letting it be.

Our culture does a fantastic job of pushing down that beach ball. “At least…” “Well, you still have…” “They’re in a better place.” “Stay busy.” “Oh, they grow so fast, enjoy every minute.” **Insert smile and half-hug here.** Have you ever asked a cashier at the store “No, really, how are you really doing?” It’s an awkward social experiment, but it will show you we really don’t generally make space for our truth in the day to day. and it’s kind of exhausting.

Can you make space? Do you have someone who can sit with you in your truth? Therapy can be a place to say the unsayable, feel the unfeelable (is that a word? It is now.). Practice being with our grief so that we learn how to hold it. A support group can also be a great place to be with other people who get it in the way that only other people who are carrying the same grief get it. In the day to day, pausing just a moment to acknowledge, “this is hard,” “I’m sad,” “I know I’m supposed to be enjoying this, but I’m just not right now,” can be a powerful first step toward a lightening of the weight of it.

A little further? A ritual can be a powerful acknowledgement, just for ourselves or with others, too. Light a candle, write a letter, send a letter/don’t send a letter, rip up a letter, make a photo album, get a tattoo/have a tattoo removed, become an advocate, frame a picture of the house, start a new tradition.

Our culture tells us “chin up,” but it is in the acknowledgement of the grief and holding a little space for the grief that we can truly begin to find a little more peace and authenticity.

Here’s me, holding a little space for you.

-Kelly