|
            
Buy today and receive a 10%
discount on all products!
New designs on preciouspurpose.com!
|
Detailed Book Information
|
All Is Not Lost
Yes! Press, 2002
Price: $11.95
|
Book information:
Excerpts
Introduction
While most of us desire happiness, success, and peace of mind, there
are
other aspects of life we’d just as soon avoid: Death. Divorce.
Illness.
Hurt.
Disappointment. Sadness. Tragedy. There are points in your life and
mine
where we will face loss, whether it involves the end of a relationship
or
job, illness or accident, betrayal or financial hardship, death of a
beloved
person or pet, letting go of a long held dream, or a massive national
tragedy. Although we are told our entire lives that life is not fair,
that
bad things happen, and we should expect the unexpected, we are still
taken
off guard when such things take place. The September 11, 2001 attacks
took
us
all by surprise. Because of this traumatic event, and because each of
us
inevitably face our own crises, I felt impelled to offer a message of
comfort
and empathy. I had never planned on writing a book like this, but I
couldn’t
stop thinking about the victims and rescue workers who died, and their
families, friends, and coworkers. Somehow, it felt important to let
them
know
they did not grieve alone.
While loss and grief take many forms, experiencing emotional pain
is an
intensely personal process. It’s common to feel alone, isolated,
and
disconnected from others. One unique aspect of September 11 was its
universality: while we all reacted in our own individual ways, our shared
sense of shock, bewilderment, and outrage brought us together. Those
of us
who were not directly affected by the attacks identified with those
who
were.
Recall the outpouring of compassion in the form of monetary donations
and
personal contributions; the numbers of people who, at their own expense,
left
their homes and jobs, driving themselves across the country so they
could
pitch in. Restaurants, retail stores, and companies provided free food,
drink, and essential equipment for rescue workers and volunteers. Concerned
citizens lined up to give blood or assist in any way they could.
As we painfully witnessed the worst of what our species can inflict
on one
another, we also witnessed the best: countless examples of the heroic
human
spirit. Lest the lesson be overlooked, good things can come from bad
circumstances. Paradoxically, the same pain, suffering, or grief that
pierces
our heart also directs us toward deeper understanding and wisdom, and
eventually, inner peace. The events of September 11 represented a compound
loss for us as a nation, and we grieved. Even if we didn’t live
in one of
the
ground zero areas or lose a friend or loved one, our concept of safety,
security, and sovereignty were swiftly and irreversibly redefined. We
lost
our some of innocence and naiveté. We knew things would never
be the same.
Such is the nature of loss.
Through the weeks that followed, I couldn’t stop thinking about
the
thousands
of people whose lives had been so swiftly and dramatically altered in
a
single morning. Having experienced the sudden death of my youngest son,
I
know the feeling of having my world turned on its side at a moment’s
notice.
And families who have lost a loved one through a violent act tell me
that
the
harshness and senselessness of it all adds to their pain and feelings
of
helplessness.
In our efforts to heal it’s sometimes hard to know where to begin
picking up
the pieces. If you are currently in the midst of grieving, I hope these
ideas
will bring comfort to your aching soul, give you a sense of what you’re
in
for, and offer some healthy ways to handle your hurt so you can move
forward
in your life. If you have lost a loved one you’ll find comfort
here. If you
are recovering from the pain of divorce you’ll discover some insights
that
can help you adjust and eventually thrive in your new life. If you have
lost
your job or feel as if you’re stuck in a period of confusion or
angst you
will find some ideas that will help you break free.
While All Is Not Lost explores the painful, difficult side of life
it’s also
a tribute to the resilience of the human spirit. Even in the aftermath
of
loss, crisis, or trauma, we somehow find ways to prevail. This book
is about
what you can expect as you progress from floundering in the depths of
despair
to healing your heart and spirit so you can once again soar with all
you
believe in. I have intentionally left room for you to interject the
tenets
of
your faith or spiritual beliefs rather than impose my own. I trust you
will
both appreciate and take advantage of this freedom.
If you have recently suffered a significant loss or setback, even though
it
doesn’t feel like it at this moment, please believe that all is
not not
lost.
You will recover. You will once again find sense and meaning in your
life.
In
time you will find your way along the foreign terrain of the healing
journey.
Chapter 12: Goodbye Can Mean Goodbye
We have rules in our household about saying goodbye. The basic requirements
include eye contact and face to face acknowledgment. We tolerate no
automatic, empty greetings, no yelling from the door, no turned backs,
and
no
air kisses that fall to the floor, orphaned, unrequited. When we say
goodbye,
even when running out for a quick errand, we make it an event. In fact,
Rob
and I have made a game of saying goodbye. One of us will stand at the
door,
announcing our departure, hesitating long enough for the other to come
running from another room in mock frenzy, ready to dispense a farewell
hug
or
kiss.
You may be wondering if we’ve always had this rule. Of course
not. Following
my son’s death I was haunted by the distant, preoccupied farewell
I had
given
him. I have no recollection of whether I kissed or hugged him or looked
into
his eyes. I suspect I did not. My brain was already on the road, eager
to
get
home and back to my routine. After having to own up to my negligence
that
day, I vowed to never again to be so arrogant. This was a harsh, painful
lesson.
Given my history, you can imagine the empathy I felt for those who
lost
loved
ones on September 11. My heart ached for the hundreds, perhaps thousands
of
people who gave their own incomplete goodbyes that fateful morning.
Some
were
still asleep when their partners walked out the door. A few left in
anger.
How could anyone have dreamed that this casual, everyday gesture would
take
on such significance a few hours later?
For those of us whose last goodbye left so painfully much unsaid, we
must
come to accept that this was only one momentary gesture and not the
whole
relationship. It is a deed that cannot be undone and there’s a
point at
which
we need to give up flogging ourselves for our inability to predict the
future. As far as the future goes, we can only pledge to make each of
our
goodbyes something to remember.
A Healing Step:
Maybe you already give great goodbyes, but if not, I encourage you make
each
one an event, even if it’s only your pet you are leaving behind.
If like me,
you live with a remorseful goodbye, remind yourself that it was only
a
moment
in time and you do not possess psychic powers. Forgive yourself. We
can
serve
ourself and the memory of our loved one by focusing on the meaningful
hours
and days and years when we were intimately connected instead of the
brief
moments we were not. We cannot change our history, but our past has
worthwhile lessons to teach us as we move on.
Some people wrap themselves in their pain instead of learning from
it. Don’t
fall into that trap. We all have regrets and our job is to put them
in
perspective and learn what they can teach us. Regret can turn us toward
what
we truly value. Grief can remind us how precious life is. Disappointment
can
help us clarify what we want. Mistakes can provide us with the opportunity
to
try something different, to create new patterns and practices that enrich
our
existence. Who would think that a simple goodbye, one of the first social
gestures we learn as babies, and one we so casually engage in without
a
thought countless times a day, could hold such consequence.
Chapter 15: Other Losses
Change is a constant in life and it is often accompanied by some kind
of
loss. Even our circle of friends changes with the years: we leave some
of
them behind and some of them leave us. When my best friend Roxanne moved
to
Seattle I didn’t realize it meant the end of our friendship and
I grieved
the
loss for years. Having seen her a few times since then, I’ve come
to realize
that the woman I so sorely missed no longer exists. We have little in
common
now.
Work represents its own set of losses, large and small. Job loss shakes
the
foundation of our existence because it jeopardizes our entire way of
living.
Considering the number of hours spent in the workplace and the
uncontrollable
issues that go along with it (conflicting agendas and personalities,
time
demands, politics, ego clashes, unresponsive or incompetent management,
to
name a few) it’s no surprise that work can represent an ongoing
source of
distress.
Job changes such as reorganizations, reassignments, and reclassifications
can
mean losing our connections with former peers who now perceive us
differently
or shy away because we are no longer a part of the old team. Promotions
often
bring with them unexpected burdens such as increased responsibilities,
longer
hours, and people problems. With demotions, the loss of status can be
ego
crushing. Clearly, the workplace can be the source of many losses.
One person’s trauma can be invisible to others. There are people
who grieve
the loss of natural habitat just as others would mourn a lost loved
one,
taking the constant damage to our environment very personally. Edward
Abbey,
author of the evocative Desert Solitaire is one example. His subsequent
works
vibrated with anger as he watched so many cherished wild places destroyed.
One of my favorite authors, Carl Hiaasen, chronicles similar insults
in his
Miami Herald column. I respect how he has sublimated his grief over
the
systematic destruction of his home state’s shorelines and ecology
by writing
novels that pulsate with vicious, brilliant humor and evil characters.
Hiaasen is an example of how you can creatively channel your indignation
or
angst instead of ruining your health (or life) over circumstances that
lie
outside of your control.
Earlier in the book I discussed the losses that accompany aging, though
getting older has become a different issue than it was a few decades
ago.
Just look around at the emerging seniors (like myself). Old is younger
than
it used to be, and with an assist from medical technology, we can even
turn
back the odometer: many of my professional speaker colleagues are postponing
the loss of their youth with various forms of cometic surgery. This
is an
option I have not exercised, nor do I plan to.
But mind you, I qualify. I don’t even officially fit into “middle
age”
anymore. Perhaps I’m clinging to a thin strand of denial, but there
are
moments this still takes me by surprise. So far, thanks to regular exercise,
my mother’s genes, and moderately healthy diet I’m in pretty
good shape,
with a few isolated parts of my body knowing how old I really am. I
did give
up jogging some years ago to relieve the wear and tear on my knees.
Otherwise, I’m still actively learning, thinking creatively, riding
my
horse,
hiking, and coming pretty close to doing to what I’ve always done.
For this,
I am mightily grateful.
A Healing Step:
Even small losses or changes can prompt unease. If you find yourself
feeling
down or angry, take time to pinpoint where it’s coming from or
what it’s
connected to. Examine what’s going on, especially if you have experienced
any
recent changes to determine what, if anything, is different. Was there
an
expectation that didn’t get met? Have you been ignoring any physical
symptoms? Have you been avoiding an issue you need to deal with? Check
the
calendar. A pending birthday, especially one that moves you into a new
decade, or other significant dates can trigger feelings and thoughts
you
didn’t know you had. Old anniversaries, even long after a death
or divorce
can resurface old wounds or regrets.
Maybe there’s something you’re grieving over and you’ve
resisted admitting
it. You might have tried to convince yourself that you’re being
silly or
stupid, but feelings are feelings and they will let themselves be known
one
way or the other. We’ve discussed what a personal experience loss
can be.
We’ve also established that if you don’t address the emotions
that are
trying to come out, they’ll express themselves later somewhere
in your body.
Be efficient. It’s like our moms used to tell us when we were neglecting
our
chores: go “inside” and get your work done now, so that if
anything comes
along that you want to do, you’ll be free to do it.
Chapter 19: Anger and Acceptance
When bad things happen, one of the many emotions we need to sort through
is
anger. If we become ill, we may get angry at ourself or our body, and
even
the doctor who diagnoses our condition. When a loved one dies, we might
be
angry at them for leaving us behind. A divorce can trigger a good deal
of
anger, especially if it involved betrayal or deception. We can get angry
at
life for being so harsh or cruel, or at God for allowing something so
awful
to happen. And with a little bit of creativity and perseverance, we
can find
a whole lot of other people to be mad at, too.
Elsewhere in this book I describe the anger I felt when my son was
killed.
It
just didn’t feel natural burying one of my children. Parents were
supposed
to
die first, or even grandparents, all of whom, in our family, outlived
their
grandson by several years. You can imagine I was very angry over the
unfairness of it all. When I presented the minister with the elegy I
had
written for my son, I remember giving the poor man precise, insistent
instructions on exactly how I wanted it read. I think he understood
that I
was so closed down with grief and outrage I didn’t realize how
I was
behaving, nor did I care. My anger had to go somewhere.
Therapists and anger management counselors describe anger as a secondary
emotion, stating that, while what is coming out of us may look, sound,
and
feel like anger, that’s not really what it is. Fear, insecurity,
and hurt
are
often expressed as anger, as are feelings of abandonment, frustration,
and
helplessness. For example, as couples in a troubled relationship approach
the
point of separation or divorce, much of their time is spent time yelling,
blaming, and venting their anger. I am suggesting that much of what
they are
expressing isn’t really anger. They are grieving, but they don’t
know it.
Their anger is protecting them from their hurt.
I define anger as a defense mechanism that shields us from experiencing
the
full brunt of an emotion. In other words, people who keep themselves
in a
prolonged state of anger are wrapped in their “protections.”
They are closed
down, shielded; in full defense mode. Temporarily, anger does us a service.
It can keep us from having to feel the intensity of our grief or hurt
until
we have time to adjust and sort things out. But if we hold onto anger
for
too
long, it can be our undoing.
As an individual more inclined toward anger than depression, I’ve
since
learned to look for the connecting point. That is, I want to know what
root
feeling is attached to my anger at the other end. If you find yourself
feeling angry about something that’s going on in your life, take
a closer
look and figure out what it’s connected to. What presumptions did
you have
about life? What were your expectations? Did you think you were exempt
from
this kind of hurt? Were you thinking life would be fair? Well, it isn’t.
Life
is exceedingly unfair.
It’s unfair that people should die painful deaths, whether by
illness or
violence, and that our hearts or spirits sometimes end up broken by
the very
people we love. It’s unfair that employers allow unhealthy, sometimes
abusive
work environments to exist, where people in subordinate positions are
treated
with disrespect, or where politics preside over principles. It’s
unfair that
corporations can wantonly pollute our water, soil, and air and not have
to
clean it up or pay for it. It’s unfair that some people have so
much money
that they blatantly waste, flaunt, or hoard it while others have so
little
they can barely subsist.
It’s unfair that children get cancer or are born with multiple
disabilities.
It’s unfair that women and children and animals get abused in their
homes. I
could go on, but you get the point. Life is unfair and our getting angry
won’t stop the unfairness from happening. Life will go on anyway,
whether we
stay angry or not. If something terrible has happened to you, maybe
you feel
angry about being singled out. But yet, should you or I be exempt? It
only
takes a short look to regain perspective. I think of my friend Mitchell,
who,
just a few short years before the accident that paralyzed him, suffered
burns
so extensive that he lost his fingers and had to have his face rebuilt.
Or
my
neighbor Ruth who buried a son and a daughter before either of them
became
full fledged adults. Then there are the families who lost someone on
September 11.
We all have our losses to bear. Respecting the tragedies of others
keeps me
from feeling entitled; like I’m so special that nothing bad should
happen to
me. Or that I should stay angry when it does. Life happens. Hurt happens.
And
we go on anyway. We have to remind ourselves that the hard times help
us
truly connect with other human beings. It is our bond; our social glue.
By
eventually trading anger for acceptance you’ll find it easier to
forgive,
whether that means forgiving yourself or someone else. Once you accept
what
life is, instead of what you think it should be, or want it to be, you’ll
find the place of peace you’ve been looking for, and more.
But if you allow yourself to remain in a state of suspended anger you’ll
severely limit what you hear, see, and feel. Anger may seem an honest
emotion, but because it puts you in a state of protective alarm it can
cheat
you in the long run. When you are angry it’s as if your mind and
body are
operating on reserve power and only so much sensory energy can be expended.
Operating at minimum capacity will work for a little while, but it won’t
serve you in the long term. You’ll miss more of life than you experience.
A Healing Step:
If, in your grief, you have been closed down with anger and you’re
ready to
give it up, you have some work to do (if you’re not ready to give
it up you
have even more work to do). Your first step is in facing up to the fact
that
you are a human being, living in a neutral world where things you consider
bad, hurtful, or unfortunate will happen, most of which are beyond the
realm
of your control. I’m sorry, but that’s the way it is. Next,
accept that,
even though in many ways you are a very special person, this does not
mean
you are exempt from heartache or conflict in your relationships, unjust
treatment by your employer, nor are you and those you love necessarily
immune to illness, turmoil, or injury.
Getting angry and blaming people, circumstances, or even God for bad
things
that happen to you will only increase and perpetuate your anxiety. In
directing blame (responsibility) toward any source other than yourself,
you
are, in effect, relinquishing control. If you in no way contributed
to this
situation your option is to accept, not resist. If you had even a remote
hand
in helping make it happen, own up. Wishing, hoping, blaming or getting
angry
over the way things are will not change the circumstances, nor will
any of
these resistances prevent more bad things from happening. However, they
will
keep you closed down, meaning that you’ll be unable to fully participate
in
your life.
Perhaps it’s occurred to you that these declarations reflect the
sentiment
found in the Serenity Prayer and you’re right. These statements
also
parallel
the work of Dr. Albert Ellis and his model of Rational Emotive Therapy
(RET),
a powerful approach to personal transformation. Dr. Ellis has had a
tremendous influence on me and I heartily recommend his many books,
especially A Guide To Rational Living.
One last thing I will ask you to accept is that you have tremendous
potential
for creating a life of fulfillment and much of your serenity will come
from
your ability to openly accept all of life’s experiences, not just
the ones
that feel good or make you happy. But then, at some level, you already
know
that.
|
