Category: Healing

Flying to Wonderland

WarriorLara

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If someone came to me inviting me to race dragons in the moonlight I would laugh with glee and race out the door ready to fly away.  I would barely stop to take a breath before jumping onto a dragon’s back.  Oh the wonder and joy at just the thought of this!

Dragons and imagining them as real is part of Wonderland for me – the place where all things of joy, hope, peace and wonder are possible.  Wonderland is the place of dreams come to life.  It is the magical place of walking, and flying, as a whole, healed person.

Wonderland is the opposite of Cuckoo Luckoo Land. Cuckoo Luckoo land is the place of dark and twisted paths. It is the place I dropped into when Russell entered the hospital and still travel into at times as I heal from his death.  In Cuckoo Luckoo Land up is down, in is out, left is right, nothing is as it should be.  There is much wisdom to be gained while traveling in this place but the drops into it are truly like stepping into a rabbit hole and sliding down a windy slide with the speed of light.

Wonderland is the place of light, open skies, peaceful winds and freedom.  Just today in reading this lovely dream of a picture I have named that place I go inside myself where I feel at peace and feel ready to fly on a dragon.  Wonderland it is; the place where I believe dragons are real and I picture myself riding one to healing. All things are possible here and I believe that I can transform my life into one of Joy. Ahhh Wonderland.

I’m going to play with creating a picture board of what Wonderland looks like to me, calling in all of the magic of that place to me.  I want to invoke the light, laughter, love, healing and joy I imagine as I picture myself flying on my dragon under the moonlight.  I may also as I play with what the wisdom of Wonderland holds for me create another board revealing what Cuckoo Luckoo Land means to me.  There is wisdom in the dark paths I travel when I am there.

I cannot, in all honesty, have one without the other.  They are both part of my dance; the light and the dark, the grieving and the healing.  For tonight, I will go to sleep dreaming of someone coming in the moonlight with my dragon.  Oh do I want to fly to Wonderland!

Time Outs

WarriorLara

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Sometimes there can be no words. Or at least no adequate words to say to someone when a curve ball of life has been thrown at them.  Especially if it is someone who’s black and blue already from trying to dodge a lot. In those times when yet one more thing has happened all we can do is be there, give them a hug, and walk alongside them.

I’m also learning that during these times of dodging and weaving I need to step away for a while to regroup and re-center myself before I try to engage too much with people around.  Take a quick time out isn’t just for little kids who’ve done something they weren’t supposed to do.  Time outs give us a chance to say to the world “I just can’t right now. Give me a few minutes to reset my brain, my heart, and my body.”

As adults we often think we need to just suck it up and keep moving.  Allowing ourselves to take a time out can leave some of us (me for sure sometimes) feeling weak and ineffective.  However I’m coming to realize that time outs are one of the easiest, best ways for us to put our self-care and our health first.  It is 100% okay to say we need to focus on our own needs first.  If we don’t do it, no one else will for us.

I’m doing a bit of dodging and weaving this weekend as is Kateri and a few others within our Avalon community. I’m betting there are a lot of folks out there dodging and weaving things being thrown at them quickly and out of nowhere.  I am encouraging us all to take time outs when we feel our inner stress level rising.  Stop, go to a quiet place, take some deep cleansing breaths, and let go.  As we allow ourselves to just settle into the moment, not trying to figure out the future in any way shape or form, perhaps we can settle into a calmer, more grounded space,  At least that is my hope my myself and all of us.

All will be well and all is well!

Dive on in

WarriorLara

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“Hold it in. Don’t let them see you cry.  Just let it go. Move on with your life.  Get over it already.  Push through. You’ve got to do your job.  People don’t want to hear it anymore. Don’t wallow in things.  Get on with it.”

These messages come through from somewhere. I don’t recall directly hearing these but these can run like ticker tapes through my head.  I honestly have no one in my life who is saying these things directly to me.  But somehow these “suck it up” messages are part of my thought process because I can hear them play in my head if I’m having a rough time that I just can’t seem to shake.  The longer I try to hold it in, not cry and just keep pushing through the more of a mess I become.   Each day that I try to ignore the depths of emotion welling up inside of me the less I am able to get much of anything done.  As I shove things away, trying to stay focused on getting tasks done, it’s as if an internal top starts spinning faster and faster and faster.

Instead I’m learning to dive into the emotion, especially when it flares up inside me with the fierceness and quickness of a summer storm.  When things finally come to a point that I must stop all I am doing and face whatever storm has arisen inside of me I am finding it is much healthier for myself and those around me if I completely tap out for a day and dive deep into the sadness and confusion before me.   I am learning to stop listening to the ticker tape messages in my head replacing them with ones of self-love, care, and allowing myself to dive deep into the exact place I need to be in each moment.

Some would see my dives as wallowing in sadness, and some days I judge myself that way. There seems to be a time limit that is placed upon feeling deep emotions and the further out from the initial event the less time we should spend thinking about it or feeling the aftershocks of it.  If you’ve got to cry again do it quick and get back to the task at hand. However my experience of allowing myself to dive into the emotion, feeling it as deeply and as long as I truly need to is that I am then able to be in a clearer space, a more healed place upon my return.

What amazes me is that each time I finally give myself permission to tap out of expectations to “suck it up and just keep moving” and dive into all that I am feeling, I come back out feeling more whole and truly ready to move again.  It’s as if the dive into the murky, darker places of intense emotion shake things up to the point that I  no longer feel clogged and stuck.  I can almost feel my whole body shift as I cry, scream, feel and dive on in. I can hear that deep, inner self say “thank you for listening to me and honoring me.” I can feel love wrap around me as I say yes to me and what I most need.

I wonder what would happen if I gave myself permission faster to tap out and dive on into the emotions swirling inside of me. I wonder if I would be able to quiet those negative, ticker tapes running through my thoughts if I said yes to the quiet voice inside of me saying “taking the day off and dive in”.   I wonder if I would feel better sooner and have less days that felt like I was trying to move through quicksand.  Probably.  It’s worth trying.  I’m worth trying!

 

 

 

I’m learning

WarriorLara

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Grief is a long, twisty, bizarre journey .  I’ve been feeling good overall, feeling as if my heart has healed a lot and I’m ready to move forward with life in ways I hadn’t been previously.  I’ve felt ready for something.  But I’ve  not really known what that something might be.  I’ve tried this and that, wondered this and that, moved forward on this and that.  But there is no this or that catching my attention past the point of taking the first steps forward on a path.  I am living in the hope that something, anything will just grab me and scream to me “Yes, this can feed your soul enough to carry you through the rough days.”  I keep moving forward, one tiny step at a time.

I’m realizing today that this second year of grieving the death of Russell is even more treacherous to journey than the first.  The path is so much more foggy.  Life has taken over and I spend most of my days dealing with work, helping my children figure out their journeys, and spending time with family and friends.  I don’t as much as I want to.  I am caught up in living a life.  I am trying to just live.  I go for weeks feeling stable, whole, and able to handle life. And then something triggers me and I find myself in the midst of one of those darker places again.

I think of Russell. I miss him everyday.  The kids and I talk about him more now than we could a year ago.  We dream of adventures.  I pay my bills.  I line up doctor’s appointments.  I try to eat healthy.  I cook more.  I laugh some everyday.  I talk to Russell in my head of how proud of our children I am.

I am also finding that my heart is hurting so much the past few weeks.  And little things can pop up that leave me feeling as if I’m unraveling all over again.  I know that I am strong but I am feeling weaker as time goes along rather than stronger.  And than I realize that this second year, this year of rebuilding and integrating the shock of last year, has so many lessons to learn.

I’m learning to tap out again, just like I did much of last year.  There are just some days, some moments that I just need to be away from the world.  In those moments I collapse into myself, sob a lot, and hide under the covers for at least a few hours.

I’m learning to not feel guilty about continuing to place great emphasis upon my self-care and encouraging my kids to do the same.  There is a part of me that believes I need to suck it all up and just get the job done, no matter what my emotional state might be.  I do work hard most days on many, many things. But other days I give into the need to focus primarily on self-care.

I’m learning to find the one or two things that I can do each day that always make me smile.  Usually these involve my children or my pups.

I’m learning that the unraveling I experience is needed so that I can start to weave a new life web. I’m strengthening the strands of my web, spinning new ones, and dreaming.

I’m learning that I need to write everyday, and not just in my journal.  Blogging feeds my soul in ways I can’t quite understand.  There is something about writing and sharing my journey – the good, the bad, the challenging, the easy – that heals me and gives me purpose.  Even if the writing is short I think I need to start blogging everyday, no matter what.  Considering I have the topics for at least 15-20 blog posts already written down it should be fairly easy to do.

I’m learning that not knowing what I want to change in my life is okay.  I’ve got to settle into this unknowing place as a good, normal place for me right now.

I’m learning that part of what makes me strong is being able to say I’m not strong all of the time.

I’m learning that grieving impacts us on such a deep and broad level that it can take a very long time to rebuild our lives and learn to still be able to move even when those little things try to pull the rug out from under us again.

I’m learning that just when I think I’ve got this grieving thing under my belt, it is really that a new layer of learning is being reached.  Just because I have bad days or rough weeks it doesn’t mean that I’m not healing or that I’m not strong.

I just need to be sharing my story, not worrying if others get it or if they are even listening or how rambling my writing seems to be to me.  My path doesn’t have to be a linear one, it just has to be my path. I don’t know why it feels so important to share my story. Maybe because it’s one of the few things that seems to come easily to me.   There is so much in my life that seems hard to do or figure out still.  Writing, sharing my life journey, loving my children, listening to other people’s stories, these are the things that seem real to me. These things feed my soul.

I’m learning!

 

Place of Readiness

WarriorLara

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It is in this place at Avalon, by our pond, that I’ve just written for the past hour and a half. Writing, for the first time, of my slide into Cuckoo Luckoo land 18 months ago today and putting into words my memory of that day.

I wrote not out of a painful place but rather out of a place of readiness. Another door was opened, another layer of my cocoon peeled away this afternoon. The compulsion to write came over me so fiercely as I was driving I almost pulled off the road …to write in that spot. But I knew I needed to be here, at Avalon, on land that is Sanctuary for me. So I wrote in my head and waited.

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It’s not time to share the story of that day out loud yet. It was enough to write it, knowing that when I write my book the story will need to be told.

I am breathing deeply and freely in awe of the Muse gift that comes to me. I am smiling as I stand barefoot upon the grass I just laid upon writing of Russell and our story. As I write this story I feel him cheering me on, believing in me as he always did.

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In this time, this moment I am filled with love and light as I continue my journey through the shadowlands. I know I am not alone.

 

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Attraction – Cracking Open a New Door

WarriorLara

door This time, this moment: Living out loud in every moment.  That is my goal, my mission so to speak, for my blog.  From the very beginning of this current life path I am on that started with Russell’s entry into the hospital I have done my best to live this mission everyday.  The path has been raw, vulnerable, and hard to speak at times.  But in walking it I have found a profound new realness to living life.

When I stay committed to this mission of living my life out loud in every moment I find the path before me to be very clear.  As I honestly state what I am feeling, thinking and dreaming it’s as if the fog lifts and the sun brightly shines my way forward.  It’s in the times that I hide away my truth or hold back from speaking the musings that float up inside of me wanting to come out that I feel like the path and my life become foggy again and almost impassable.

Interestingly much of my journey forward through Russell’s sudden illness and death and then the grieving since has been fairly easy to live out loud.  Oh I can’t always speak it but I’ve been able to write it.  My inner muse awoke with passion when I dropped into Cuckoo Luckoo Land 17 months ago.  She remains awake when I slow down my racing mind, take a deep breath and listen from my heart about what she wants to say.  I like it when she is awake as there is such a sense of rightness, of “yes this is what I most want to do,” when I listen and allow myself to drop everything to write.

This past week I’ve had several shout outs from my muse about things to make note of. None of them have been so compelling as what she kept nudging me with this morning.  The entire time I was at the airport dropping my sons off for their flight to camp in Oregon I could hear her whispering to me, inviting me into a new place of pondering.   A story is what she wanted me to tell about the door that was opened just a crack on own flights home from Asheville last weekend.  I kept trying to tell her to hush thinking nope I don’t need to or want to tell that story.  It’s not important.  Blah, blah, blah.

My muse was persistent though as I thought back to last weekend and realized that it is about a significant shift I need to speak and share.  The story isn’t that big of a deal but the door it has cracked open is an important tiny, bitty step in a new direction on my grieving/healing journey.    The story is a bit of a ramble so I hope you bear with me to the end.  Smile!

In a long, way too long to tell the whole thing here, adventure at Chicago O’Hare airport last weekend there were hundreds of people who spent the night in the airport.  Several of us from the same flight temporarily bonded together as we encouraged each other to find new flights or other means of transportation to St. Louis after our flight was cancelled at 11:30 at night.  We rallied together to talk, laugh, hug a few who were crying and basically shake our heads at the surrealness of hours of delays, followed by a late night cancellation and getting stuck in an airport.

One of the people in this little cluster of folks who connected was a man about my age with a great laugh, super positive energy and a willingness to help.  He and I chatted at various stages from the cancelled flight’s gate to the United Airlines service desk to the point of heading to our new goals of getting to St. Louis.  We both offered support to a young woman who came almost completely unglued when the flight was cancelled.  We helped her figure out a new plan before heading in different directions – me to the American airlines area for the night and him towards the rental cars as he tried to get a car to just drive home.  It was a nice reminder that there are others in the world who can find humor and the positive, while also supporting others, in the crazy situations that pop up in life.  No other thought beyond that.

After an exhausting night sleeping on the floor of O’Hare’s airport, I got on my flight back to St. Louis where I promptly fell asleep for the entire way.   After we landed in St. Louis and we were waiting to disembark I felt a tap on my shoulder.  I thought maybe I had dropped something and I looked around. Well, there was the guy from the night before smiling and thanking me for the tip about switching airlines to get home sooner.  It was funny as we chatted like long-lost friends about the goofiness of the night before.  I told him about losing my new boarding pass and trying to find blankets. He told me about trying to rent a car and deciding not to when he found out it would cost $750 for a one way drive to St. Louis.  We laughed and shook our heads.

As we got off we said goodbye and good luck. Again, I didn’t think much beyond that.   Then, we saw each other again at United’s baggage claim as we tried to find our bags.   Several others from our original, cancelled flight were there and we all got talking about our adventures.  This guy and I got laughing about what had happened.  Part of the silliness was being so tired but it was good to be laughing rather than crying.  Others joined in as we all talked in general about where we were from and what we did, desperately all hoping our bags had somehow made it to St. Louis already.  I finally got my bag, said goodbye and good luck, and headed for home.

As I talked and laughed with this guy I had a sense that I was kind looking at myself from the outside in because I knew something felt different. But I was wayyy too tired to figure out what and why it felt different.  I just knew it was and left it at that.

Throughout the past week I’ve had moments of pondering the niggling sense that something had shifted during that 15 hours or so at O’Hare and then finishing up at Lambert.   I now know what it was and my muse insists that I write about it as part of my commitment to living my life out loud.  I had personal interest and an attraction to the guy I kept meeting along my journey home.  There was something about him that piqued my curiosity and my interest beyond just this is a nice guy.  There was something about him, about the energy of who he is that I felt drawn to and that prompted thoughts of “I wonder what his name is? I wonder where he lives? ”  The fact that he shared he with me he had the young woman in distress the night before “Just close your eyes and take a deep breath. Everything will be okay.” was enough for me to think “Hmmm, who is this guy? I’d like to know more.”

For the first time I felt enough of an attraction to a man who I was willing to contemplate, to consider the possibility that someday I might want to date.  Ack, there I said it!  Truly some of the most terrifying words I’ve written on this whole long journey.  Writing about the rawness of my grief has felt far easier than writing that I felt attracted to someone.   If my muse hadn’t been so persistent I am quite confident I would never have written this story.  But if I am truly going to commit to living my life out loud than this is part of my journey right now and I feel compelled to share it all.

There are so many layers to the opening of this door that I am barely aware of them all.   Question after question has arisen for me as my awareness of how this guy opened a door for me has grown.   Questions like…

“How could I be ready for this? I can barely doing anything besides work, be with my kids, watch silly sitcoms and occasionally see friends.”

“What would I have said if this guy had asked me out?”

“How does one date in their late 40s, almost 50?”

“Do I have to start wearing makeup?” Followed by “Why would I think that?”

“Should I take my ring off? But wouldn’t that be disloyal to Russell?”

“When will my kids be ready? and How will I know?”

“How does a widow date?”

“What could I possibly talk about?”

And on, and on, and on the questions go.

I don’t know any of the answers to these or the other questions that pop up around this.  I do know that I am not ready right now for dating nor do I think that I will be anytime soon. There is so much I am still sorting out and that I am trying to put into place for myself and my kids.   I do think I am ready to be curious about the possibility of someday wanting to date again. I am willing to leave the door cracked opened at least a little bit.

Who knew a cancelled flight and a floopy night in an airport could lead to such a long rambling story?   And who knew a nice, friendly guy could open up a new door for me?  I guess, maybe, the story and the telling of it was a big deal.  Most interesting!

It is time

WarriorLara

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This morning I opened a door, a very thick steel, doubly locked door that I’ve kept locked up inside of myself ever since Russell was in the hospital.   As that door unlocked and then flew open a flood as fierce as a tsunami wave crashed over me.  I was left sputtering as I felt battered about by waves of grief, guilt, and questions flooding over and over me.  All I could do was sit and cry as memories of the hardest decision I’ve ever had to make in my life flashed back into my heart and mind.

I dropped temporarily (okay for most of the day) back into Cuckoo Luckoo Land – the place in which up is down, in is out, black is purple, and absolutely everything is turned inside out.  It’s been months since I traveled even a little in that land.  As my healing has continued I’ve been walking new paths of joy, staying in the moment, gratitude and celebrating what is right in my world rather than focusing on what no longer is.   But today my breath caught in my chest as I tried to not panic with the waves inside tossing me around.  I actually almost thought of running out of the house at one point before I just sat down, dove into the dark places and allowed myself to remember and feel it all.

Behind that steel door that I’ve kept carefully locked was the memory of having to make the decision to let Russell go.     But today there was nothing that was going to keep that door from opening.    As it opened I pictured it all: the rooms I sat in, the people there, the feelings of being both hot and cold at the same time, the mri scans, the papers explaining the process, and finally the paperwork that I had to sign.   While I had several people who were part of all the conversations and second opinions and asking questions and more conversations,  it was I who had to be the one to say the words and sign my name stating “It is time.”    There has never been anything harder that I have had to do.   And I pray that I never, ever have to be the one who has to make such a decision again in my life.

Tonight I sat with a dear friend as she sought guidance and information about making the decision to let go of her horse who has gone blind and we believe has tumors that are causing a steady decline in his overall health.  Thinking this morning about how I could best walk with her during this difficult time was the key that I somehow placed into that carefully locked steel door allowing the door to a secret, dark place in my heart to come into the light.

It is not the first time since Russell died that I’ve walked with others as a loved one was dying, but it is the first time since he died that I’ve chosen to walk the whole way there from the decision “It is time” until the end which will happen in a few weeks.   It is the first time that I’ve realized I still have guilt and worries around the decisions that were made 16 months ago.  I realize now there is a new area ready for my focused attention and healing.

I also realized throughout the course of my day riding the waves and trying to not drown in them, that while I still am not sure I will ever feel competent as a manager of a horse farm again (or at least not anytime soon), I do feel a very deep calling to walk with people as they seek to understand their own lives.  As I held space for my friend, talking with her about what she most needed on this final journey with her horse, I knew to the depths of my being that this is part of what I am meant to do, walk along with people through their joys, their sorrows and their own explorations of the dark places inside themselves.    Somehow in those moments I am able to let go of my own ego, my own baggage, my own fears and simply breathe with love as I hold sacred space for their journey.    This grieving, healing, loving work is what I seek to create as we build a sanctuary room at Avalon.   I think I am meant to find more ways to help people walk with both the light and the dark.

I didn’t really even know I had such a strong door locked away inside of me, but I think it was time to be opened so that I can heal and clear the next layer that needs healing.   I’m going to keep walking my path, living it out loud, and hope that I do more good than harm to those I meet along the way.  As always – in this time, this moment I try to just breathe and love.

 

Healing and trusting: Re-framing my brokenness and fear

WarriorLara

Ah and here is the follow up blog to “Broken and Afraid” I wrote last year. This was right after I learned about the “Dive”, a tool I still use when I feel waves of darkness threatening to crash over me. As I dive into the dark rather than fight against it I am able to listen from my heart to all I need to learn in that time, that moment.

The wisdom I learned in that first Dive Session with my guide, Ayanna, is valuable wisdom still today. Speak what I need. Set aside time for quiet and reflection. I must write everyday. Grieving and other darker, heavier emotions hold powerful wisdom for me if I trust myself to go into it.

Once again filled with gratitude to the depths of my being for this journey I am on and the wisdom I am gaining.

Healing and Brave – An invitation

WarriorLara

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Wow, what a difference one year can make in our journeys!  A year ago I shared one of the most raw musings I wrote in my healing journey. It popped up this morning on my Facebook memory feed and I’ve been reflecting upon it all day.

I wrote of being broken and afraid of many, many things.  The dark places of loss, confusion, grief, anger, etc. where my Kraken swims was the landscape I swam through at this time last year.  The deep, dark places of those waters often left me feeling very alone and so very lost.   Everything in my life felt like it was hovering on a precipice ready to vanish forever.

I wrote…”In the end it doesn’t really matter when the breaking began. What matters is the here and now.  And in this time, in this moment I feel broken and afraid. I feel as if all of the pieces of myself – my heart, my soul, my physical body, my gifts, my strengths, my weaknesses – all that I am is laying jumbled around my feet in a million tiny pieces.  All of it is scattered around me waiting for me to reassemble it all into some kind of cohesive whole again.”

Today I live most often in the light places, filled with hope and curiosity about what comes next.  Oh the dark places still thread throughout my being and rise up at odd moments as I think of missing Russell and the life we shared.  But each day I am making more and more choices to become stronger, more joyful, filled with gratitude and possibility.  I find that even on the darker days I don’t fall into the depths quite as far or as long.  And I am able to soar with my butterfly dragon more and more often.

Healing is possible.  Holding the pieces of my being – light and dark, hope and sadness, loss and connection – together in one magical piece has become a part of my daily dance.  I no longer fear the things I shared in last year’s writing.  I am doing the best that I can to live my life wholeheartedly and trust that all will be well.  I have come far in reassembling the pieces of myself into a cohesive whole.  No longer do they lay jumbled at my feet. Instead I can actually feel the pieces fitting back together piece by piece by piece.

As I become stronger I find myself wanting to walk with others on their own healing journeys. I find myself wanting to share the wisdom and the tools that have helped me along my healing journey. I wish to share the healing power of the horses, the community and the land at Avalon that has held me in sacred space all along the way.

The next steps on my journey include creating opportunities for people to come to Avalon and hear what wisdom the horses have to share with them.  I am creating Equine Facilitated Learning workshops that will open the new possibilities for people to heal, hope and live more authentic lives.  If all goes as planned the first of these workshops will begin in the fall.  If you are interested in receiving more information I invite you to send me a note in the comment section and I will include you on our mailing list.

In this time, in this moment I am filled with gratitude for all of the ways I have healed in this past year.  I am ready to see what the future holds!

 

If you are interested in reading last year’s blog to see how far I have come click here. Thanks for sharing in my journey.  https://larapeterson.com/2015/06/30/broken-and-afraid/