About “Primal Scream”

This is a comment about the story "Primal Scream". If you haven't read it, please drop down below and do that first, then return here.

Dear Friend,

There are times in all of our lives when we are so overwhelmed and so weighed down by our life that it feels like we can't keep it inside without exploding into a million pieces. That's where I was with "Primal Scream". I decided that I had to vent to stay sane. So I stood out on a little hill in the middle of nowhere and tried to push everything out of me before I cracked. It's a wonderful thing to do if you can. Sure beats beating your fist against a wall (and having to repair the wall afterwards) or driving like a lunatic. And it doesn't come with a hangover. Massive emotion brings massive pressure inside of you. Find a safe way to let it out, please.

When I work with children in grief, I let them have time in a room with padded walls and floor, with a big punching bag and lots and lots of foam balls and blocks that they can throw or stack and dive into. The volume in that room would frighten any adult, believe me. Kids know how to let loose and express their emotions. They know how to scream out the things we feel but are too grown up, too well trained by society to ever say out loud, the things that are screaming inside of us that we are afraid to let out.

I hate you for leaving me.

Why did you go?

You left me behind with all of this mess to clean up. How dare you!

I don't want to be alone.

Where did you go?

I need you.

Don't you love me enough to stay with me?

What did I do wrong?

How will I survive without you?

Find a safe way to scream it out, punch it out, run it out before you explode. Find a safety valve to let some of the pressure out before you crack, or before you hurt yourself or others. Try a Primal Scream.

Trust You artwork

And now for a little fun. My partner, Cee, is a talented photographer. I just love her work, and I say that totally without any kind of bias or prejudice! I've asked her to allow me to add words to some of her pictures. I wanted to create posters that convey emotions through art and text. Here is a new piece, "Trust You".

A not-so-shameless plug: It's available as a greeting card or a poster through my site at RedBubble, an online artist's community. And please visit Cee's work. It's wonderful.

Primal Scream

Part of an ongoing personal history... the story of living through my partner's coma in 2001. I'm writing it down for the first time to reach out to others who have lived through, or are going through life's losses.

The nice thing about living on 35 acres is that you can go outside whenever you want and scream your head off and no one will call the cops.

Why was I outside screaming my head off? I was trying to keep my heart from hurting so much. I wanted the pain to go away. I wanted Some One to hear me and make my world right. The love of my life was in the hospital, hooked up to a dozen IVs, breathing through a tube down her throat, with more tubes sucking the blood out of her neck and taking it to a big machine that cleaned it and sent it back to her neck and down to her heart. She was in a coma and I couldn't find her any more. That's why I was screaming my head off in the middle of nowhere.

The land I was standing on was in Colorado, in view of Pike's Peak. It was once healing land, where the original inhabitants of those vast, open spaces would gather to pray to their gods, asking for things to be made right. They would chant, and drum, and dance, knowing that some unseen Force would hear them. And here I was, in the age of computers, doing the same thing. Except mine was a bit less organized and not quite so reverent, I suspect. Mine tended more toward anger and shaking my fist up at God. I was violent and demanding of answers, resentful and desperate, longing and willing to bargain, terrified and alone. I think the ancient dwellers of this land were a bit more evolved than I was in my frantic grief.

When the echoes of my screams faded away all that was left was the blowing of the wind. Perhaps I will find my answers there.

In the years since this event I have been on a spiritual quest, looking for the answers to the big "WHY?". That journey has led me to become a grief and loss counselor. If this message has touched you, please share your experiences with me, either through comments here, or by emailing me if you don't want a public view. (See my profile for the address.)

About “The Wisdom of Harry “

This is a comment about the story "The Wisdom of Harry". If you haven't read it, please do that first and then return here.

When Harry told me "you just do", it left me feeling frustrated. I wanted words of comfort, promises of salvation, something, anything to hang onto. But Harry knew, as I know now, and as I suppose I realized deep inside of me then, that there were no promises to be made. Not ones that could be kept, anyway. Life is uncertain. Things change. We adjust. We bend. Yes, some people break. But most don't. We are, after all, self healing beings.

What I found is that time and life create a healing scab. Difficult to hear when you are in the middle of your pain. But it's easier to live through those times if you can share them with someone else. Find a good listener, someone with whom you can share your feelings. Tell that person you don't need any feedback from them. You just want them to listen, and hold you if you ask them to. You just need to know that you are not alone in this world, that someone hears your cries.

You don't need fixing, so tell your listener to give you no feedback. As Harry knew, there is nothing to say that wouldn't ultimately be false or shallow. When you are in your grief you are in a very private place because no one can truly know what you are feeling. I can tell you that you'll make it through, that the pain will lessen, that someday you will smile again, but you won't believe it from where you are. Your world has collapsed and I wouldn't try to sugar coat that because, in those dark and lonely nights of the soul, you would see through me.

"You just do." Yes, it's true You just do make it through. It's a process, but you do make it through. It's been eight years now since I heard those words. They ring in my head every time I face a challenge, because they are the truest, most honest, most valuable words I have ever heard in my life.

You just do.

The Wisdom of Harry

A true story from my life experiences. Part of my ongoing personal history.

I looked into those eyes, so gentle, so caring, and repeated my question.

“How do you get through this?”

Harry said, ever so calmly, “You just do. You just do.”

Those were not reassuring words. Harry and I were in the hospital cafeteria, trying to eat. Eating isn’t easy when you spend your days sitting in the Intensive Care Unit beside the bed of your mate, waiting for death to come, praying that it doesn’t.

Harry’s wife was in the room next to ours. That’s how we met. He was old enough to be my father. His first wife had died of breast cancer. Now his second wife was on a ventilator, with fate uncertain. He had been through this before. I was hoping his experience would have brought some wisdom, some secret of how to dull the pain, how to diminish the terror I was living with every hour of every day. But instead I get, “You just do”, like some perverted ad for running shoes.

Harry was a man of the cloth, a retired minister. I had expected some words about God and prayer and Jesus and miracles and faith making you whole. I had expected Bible verses. Something. Anything. Just a little bit of heaven to hold onto. “You just do.”

“You just do.”

Those turned out to be the wisest words I have ever heard.

Please share your life experiences with me, either through comments here, or by emailing me if you don't want a public view. (See my profile for the address.)

The Long Walk

A true story from my life experiences. I took this walk many, many times over the course of forty days starting April of 2001.

The elevator hisses shut behind me. Ahead of me lays the terrifying walk to those doors with the ominous sign: Restricted Area. Behind those doors lie the mostly dead, the partially alive, and their loved ones who keep silent, tearful vigil. The Intensive Care Unit.

I am one of those keeping vigil.

Each step comes in slow motion. I hate this walk and the questions it brings. Will she still be there, clinging to life, tied to so many machines and tubes? Or will I round the corner to see her door open, room empty, her body in the morgue waiting for me to dispose of it? Will she have slipped away, alone, desperate, unaccompanied into that dark mystery of death we all fear so much? What if she gave up and left while I had gone home for a troubled sleep and a change of clothes? What if, during my long drive back to the hospital, they tried to call me, to tell me to hurry, that there wasn’t anything more they could do and it was time to say goodbye, but they couldn’t reach me and she died alone? Would she know that I didn’t want it that way? That I wanted one more chance to tell her that I loved her and that my life would end when she left? That I tried the very best I could to keep her alive?

My footsteps echo in the deserted hallway. Left turn, five steps, right turn, thirty steps. Just one more left turn and I would have my answer. My head is screaming inside. I can’t breathe. No, no, turn back the clock. This can’t be real. This isn’t happening to us. Please let her be alive. Give us one more day together. Just one more day. Please?

Left turn. For today, the answer is….

Please share your life experiences with me, either through comments here, or by emailing me if you don't want a public view. (See my profile for the address.)

Grief and Loss Defined

Grief: The feeling that your life has spun out of control.

Loss: A hole in your world, caused by a life event, that creates a feeling of grief.

Can it be that simple? Yes. Things happen to us. That's normal. That's life. But how we interpret them, what they mean to us, how we react to them changes us, changes our lives. Those reactions, good or bad, leave a hole where our life's path diverged from the route it was on. There is an emptiness that remains. The Loss.

We feel that loss, don't we? We feel it in so many ways. Big ways. Little ways. It depends on how important the loss feels to us. What does it feel like? Many things. Sadness, certainly. Loss is sad. But it can also feel like happiness, anger, revenge, confusion, depression... a long list of emotions that can swirl you around in circles, or throw you up and down like a roller coaster, mire you down in mental quicksand or leave you feeling like you're in a slow motion tornado. The Grief.

Let Me Introduce Myself

Who am I?

I am a compassionate listener. That means I listen with my heart and soul, in addition to with my ears. I listen without judgment, wanting only to give you a safe place to speak your truth, and to act as a recorder of that truth, history, event of significance in your life.

I am trained in the grief process. I facilitate support groups for children and adults who have lost family members through normal, accidental or violent deaths, as well as through illness.

I am a storyteller and story catcher. I love to tell stories and to listen to your stories, coming together in a circle of understanding and acceptance of who we are and the space we share in this world.

I am an expert in surviving and working through loss. I have experienced many, many losses in my life… of childhood innocence, of love, of family, of home, of job, of a functioning body, of money, of self-identity and self-worth. I have come through it and am thriving, living a contented life and reaching for more.