I want to list a few books on death and grieving of which I've read all or most.
It's OK That You're Not Ok by Megan Devine. This is a book for the truly heartbroken. The author helps you to look at what you are thinking and feeling, with her own loss experience as a guide, she passes no judgment and goes with you into the tough, awkward places. Through it all, she tells you over again that there is nothing wrong with the things you are naturally feeling. Grief is not something to be cured but something we must learn how to carry. There are as many ways to carry as there are people.
A Time to Grieve: Meditations for Healing After the Death of a Loved One by Carol Staudacher. Each page encapsulates a thought about grief and grieving, using a statement from a griever, a quote, a paragraph of validation, and a short passage for the griever to repeat to themselves. It was helpful to me in those times when I was in a negative feedback loop or could not stop crying.
No Death, No Fear: Comforting Wisdom For Life, by Thich Nhat Hanh. I am still reading this. It is a Buddhist look at death and how to think of it in the ultimate perspective (infinite) rather than the historical (our lifetime). It is bigger than the big picture. I find it paradoxically comforting and frightening at the same time. This is as it should be. Death itself is paradoxical. We don't like or want death, but viewed in the long term, it ends up being a blessing. We are encouraged to consider ourselves and others as both dead and alive, just as we are both up and down, good and bad, etc. it caused me to come up with my own applicable paradox: We are simultaneously far more important and far less important than we imagine ourselves to be.
Showing posts with label Grief. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Grief. Show all posts
Tuesday, July 9, 2019
Thursday, June 20, 2019
A Grieving Atheist Book Review: The Grief Recovery Handbook.
I've recently finished reading The Grief Recovery Handbook by John James and Russell Friedman. This book is outlines a method for coming to grips with all types of loss in your life, from horrendous death to moving. The title is a little misleading because, as the authors recognize, we don't always get over major losses but can live with them in a way that they call "completing our emotions." They discuss how we are poorly socialized to deal with loss because most of our culture is concerned with gains. I agree with them that modern therapeutic methods and language are often not very helpful. Every loss and every grief is unique to the individual and can not be reduced to stages or timelines.
As I was reading through the book and finally arrived at the steps to the implementation of the grief recovery method, I felt a sense of familiarity. This book was originally written before Marie Kondo put out her best seller on the Joys of Tidying Up, but it promotes metaphorically similar actions. I realized that this practice of "emotional completeness" was the explanation I had missed when I read Miss Kondo's book.
In a nutshell, the authors of the grief recovery handbook suggest a method for reviewing your relationship to an idea, a person, a place, or a thing. It is recommended to find a partner to share the exercises with in six sessions. They want you to examine the good and the bad related to the whatever or whomever was lost, then write your thoughts down in an orderly fashion. For the loss of a person, you reminisce, you apologize if needed, you forgive if needed, you make any emotional statements that you might need to get off your chest, and you write a final good bye. This letter is to be read aloud, even if you do not have a partner in the process. It is recommended that the letter be burned afterward.
Basically, the idea is to practice letting things go in a way that gets all the thoughts and feelings off your chest, hopefully once and for all. The reason I said this reminded me of Marie Kondo is she advocates a telling each of your possessions good bye when you decide to get rid of them. You remind yourself how you got it, what joy or sorrow it brought you, and then release it to move on from your life. People tend to make fun of her thinking of things as conscious beings, but I am seeing another side of this. We do develop all kinds of relationships, attachments if you will. There is no condemnation in that. But when we need to let go, or are ready to let go, we need examples of how to do that. This book provides them.
Do I think it is perfect? No. Grief will still remain.. Sorrow still happens, but unresolved emotions have been addressed and dealt with. This can only be helpful, in my opinion. There are two things of note. First, you must be ready and willing to say goodbye, at which point I have not arrived yet. Second, though the authors stress doing the method their way, I think it's perfectly fine to adapt it in a way that works for you.
There is very little talk of faith, even though the authors let you know they are believers. They make a point out of taking faith out of the recovery process. Their method is completely accessible to those without supernatural beliefs.
As I was reading through the book and finally arrived at the steps to the implementation of the grief recovery method, I felt a sense of familiarity. This book was originally written before Marie Kondo put out her best seller on the Joys of Tidying Up, but it promotes metaphorically similar actions. I realized that this practice of "emotional completeness" was the explanation I had missed when I read Miss Kondo's book.
In a nutshell, the authors of the grief recovery handbook suggest a method for reviewing your relationship to an idea, a person, a place, or a thing. It is recommended to find a partner to share the exercises with in six sessions. They want you to examine the good and the bad related to the whatever or whomever was lost, then write your thoughts down in an orderly fashion. For the loss of a person, you reminisce, you apologize if needed, you forgive if needed, you make any emotional statements that you might need to get off your chest, and you write a final good bye. This letter is to be read aloud, even if you do not have a partner in the process. It is recommended that the letter be burned afterward.
Basically, the idea is to practice letting things go in a way that gets all the thoughts and feelings off your chest, hopefully once and for all. The reason I said this reminded me of Marie Kondo is she advocates a telling each of your possessions good bye when you decide to get rid of them. You remind yourself how you got it, what joy or sorrow it brought you, and then release it to move on from your life. People tend to make fun of her thinking of things as conscious beings, but I am seeing another side of this. We do develop all kinds of relationships, attachments if you will. There is no condemnation in that. But when we need to let go, or are ready to let go, we need examples of how to do that. This book provides them.
Do I think it is perfect? No. Grief will still remain.. Sorrow still happens, but unresolved emotions have been addressed and dealt with. This can only be helpful, in my opinion. There are two things of note. First, you must be ready and willing to say goodbye, at which point I have not arrived yet. Second, though the authors stress doing the method their way, I think it's perfectly fine to adapt it in a way that works for you.
There is very little talk of faith, even though the authors let you know they are believers. They make a point out of taking faith out of the recovery process. Their method is completely accessible to those without supernatural beliefs.
Thursday, June 13, 2019
A Grieving Atheist Book Review: Modern Loss
I'm currently reading Modern Loss, a compilation of essays from the Modern Loss blog, by Rebecca Soffer and Gabrielle Birkner. The subtitle is Candid Conversations About Grief, Beginners Welcome. Each essay is about 4 pages long and written by someone who has experienced the death of someone who was part of their life.
All kinds of death are represented, and all kinds of lives. Each author brings a unique perspective to the grief process, triggers, things to know, inheritance, identity, collateral damage, secrets, griefspeak, etc. There is some humor, and a lot of sorrow that people are dealing with on a day to day basis, in their own way. Grief is very personal and often very complicated. I find it very helpful to read about other's personal experiences. It is like group therapy without leaving your home and dealing with other people.
I'm looking forward to the rest of the book which has sections on Journeys, Shit people say but really shouldn't, and absence + time. I highly recommend Modern Loss for any grieving adult. Also, it has been entirely religion free so far. I haven't checked out the blog yet, but don't let that stop you.
All kinds of death are represented, and all kinds of lives. Each author brings a unique perspective to the grief process, triggers, things to know, inheritance, identity, collateral damage, secrets, griefspeak, etc. There is some humor, and a lot of sorrow that people are dealing with on a day to day basis, in their own way. Grief is very personal and often very complicated. I find it very helpful to read about other's personal experiences. It is like group therapy without leaving your home and dealing with other people.
I'm looking forward to the rest of the book which has sections on Journeys, Shit people say but really shouldn't, and absence + time. I highly recommend Modern Loss for any grieving adult. Also, it has been entirely religion free so far. I haven't checked out the blog yet, but don't let that stop you.
Monday, June 10, 2019
A Grieving Atheist Book Review: Grief is the Thing With Feathers
I picked up Grief is the Thing With Feathers, by Max Porter, because it was at my local library under the search word "grief." There might be spoilers in this review.
The book is part poetry, part prose, part stream of consciousness, part sarcasm. It is easy to read in one sitting. There are three voices: the grieving husband and father who lost his wife in an accident, their two sons, and Crow.
Crow is a large black bird who suddenly enters the life of the father and sons when grief hits full force. Crow is grief counselor, friend, antagonist, observer of life, and reminder of death, all in one. He insinuates himself into the household as a guest that is barely tolerated and sometimes ignored. He is raucous, rude, and nonsensical, but sometimes wise and witty. He loves rhyming and alliteration.
At the end, Crow is revealed as tender and understanding. He has somehow held the family together and brought them through the worst. His job was to remain as long as hope was absent. He eventually leaves them to their new lives that they have eventually managed to create out of the destruction of the old. However, they do not forget him, but retain a lifelong affinity for crows.
Of course the story is a metaphor for a grief observed. It plays off Emily Dickenson's poem which says "Hope is a thing with feathers." In this case grief has replaced hope, temporarily. I'm sure story is meant to be a message of hope, at the same time understanding that grief comes to live with you for a while and insinuates itself into everything.
The father in the story is a Ted Hughes expert and is writing a scholarly essay on Mr. Hughes work called Crow, which Mr. Hughes wrote after the death of his wife Sylvia Plath. I believe it would be promote better understanding of imagery used if one was to read Mr. Hughes work, but I haven't done that yet.
Of course I cried in a couple of spots, but the father's situation was different enough from my own for me to not be triggered too much. Weirdly, I'm finding that looking at the grief of others is helping me to see my own more clearly. This was a line from the book that spoke to me: "Moving on, as a concept, is for stupid people, because any sensible person knows grief is a long-term project."
The book is part poetry, part prose, part stream of consciousness, part sarcasm. It is easy to read in one sitting. There are three voices: the grieving husband and father who lost his wife in an accident, their two sons, and Crow.
Crow is a large black bird who suddenly enters the life of the father and sons when grief hits full force. Crow is grief counselor, friend, antagonist, observer of life, and reminder of death, all in one. He insinuates himself into the household as a guest that is barely tolerated and sometimes ignored. He is raucous, rude, and nonsensical, but sometimes wise and witty. He loves rhyming and alliteration.
At the end, Crow is revealed as tender and understanding. He has somehow held the family together and brought them through the worst. His job was to remain as long as hope was absent. He eventually leaves them to their new lives that they have eventually managed to create out of the destruction of the old. However, they do not forget him, but retain a lifelong affinity for crows.
Of course the story is a metaphor for a grief observed. It plays off Emily Dickenson's poem which says "Hope is a thing with feathers." In this case grief has replaced hope, temporarily. I'm sure story is meant to be a message of hope, at the same time understanding that grief comes to live with you for a while and insinuates itself into everything.
The father in the story is a Ted Hughes expert and is writing a scholarly essay on Mr. Hughes work called Crow, which Mr. Hughes wrote after the death of his wife Sylvia Plath. I believe it would be promote better understanding of imagery used if one was to read Mr. Hughes work, but I haven't done that yet.
Of course I cried in a couple of spots, but the father's situation was different enough from my own for me to not be triggered too much. Weirdly, I'm finding that looking at the grief of others is helping me to see my own more clearly. This was a line from the book that spoke to me: "Moving on, as a concept, is for stupid people, because any sensible person knows grief is a long-term project."
Wednesday, June 5, 2019
A Grieving Atheist Book Review: Zen without Zen Masters
Hello, I have briefly mentioned that there has been a terrible tragedy and I have lost someone very near and dear to me about two months ago. My heart is not just broken, it is shattered. I have been trying to navigate daily life through my intense grief, just managing to hold on to my sanity. I apologize for not giving details, but I don't think that is necessary, nor will it serve any purpose to examine the circumstances of the death. It wouldn't change anything. They are still dead. No reiteration of the past can change that.
I am still having crying jags and emotional meltdowns. I've seen a grief counselor twice. She was not very helpful, but I don't blame her, what can she do. What is done can't be undone, what is shattered cannot be fixed, the dead cannot be brought back to life. I was a little frustrated at the counselor though. Both sessions, she asked me about my loved one and if I could feel their presence, what I thought had happened to their essence, and if I was receiving messages from them. I thought this was inappropriate. She was under the impression that I was a "spiritual" person. I had to tell her I was not religious and she said that would make it harder for me to recover. She also attempted to question why I was not a believer.
Does it make it harder to grieve as an atheist, or just different? Is it even different at all? Does the severity of grief depend on the closeness of the relationship more than religious beliefs? What about the personalities, strengths, weaknesses, and life experiences of the griever? What about the circumstances surrounding the death? Does religion help when the death was sudden, unnecessary, and not understandable?
One thing the counselor got right is that I have had a traumatic shock. Apparently I have also entered a stage of what is known as "complicated grief." That seems so obvious as to almost be insulting. Duh.
I'm reluctant to go back to that counselor, or any counselor for that matter. I have tried multiple methods of distraction, action, and reaction. They might help for a time but they quickly become useless as a means to ease the pain. I don't drink, smoke, or do drugs of any kind. I have very few responsibilities to occupy my time. I did get a part time job, but it consists of 4-10 hours a week. For now I have decided to do what comes naturally to me and turn to books. Over at the Roll To Disbelieve blog, I asked for book suggestions to deal with grief as an atheist. I received two. The first was Zen without Zen Masters.
I ordered the book and set about reading it by just opening it to a random page. You can do that with this book because each page is self contained. There is an illustration or mini lesson on each page. I had been pre-warned that it was a bit irreverent. I didn't find it insulting, but it was more flippant than what I needed. Also, there was more about sex than I expected, which was not relevant for me. The most helpful part was near the end, describing various meditations and exercises other than the ones popularly thought of when we hear the words. I would like to examine these more. 1. Breathing meditation 2. Moving meditation. 3. Walking meditation 4. Transcendental meditation. 5. Daily exercise (live in the day) 6. Being exercise (become part of a particular cultural experience) 7. Candle exercise 8.Decisive exercise (using CAN achronism to help decide what to do) Etc.
The book's main message seems to be: Do not take yourself too seriously. Very hard for me right now under the circumstances. However, I do want to explore a buddhist approach to death and grieving. I found help in some Buddhist philosophy as I was deconverting from Christianity. Maybe it will be of some use again. I checked out a book from my library, called The Five Invitations: What Death Can Teach us about Living. I didn't realize at the time that it was also written by a Zen Buddhist. It has already given me much to think about which I will probably discuss later.
I am still having crying jags and emotional meltdowns. I've seen a grief counselor twice. She was not very helpful, but I don't blame her, what can she do. What is done can't be undone, what is shattered cannot be fixed, the dead cannot be brought back to life. I was a little frustrated at the counselor though. Both sessions, she asked me about my loved one and if I could feel their presence, what I thought had happened to their essence, and if I was receiving messages from them. I thought this was inappropriate. She was under the impression that I was a "spiritual" person. I had to tell her I was not religious and she said that would make it harder for me to recover. She also attempted to question why I was not a believer.
Does it make it harder to grieve as an atheist, or just different? Is it even different at all? Does the severity of grief depend on the closeness of the relationship more than religious beliefs? What about the personalities, strengths, weaknesses, and life experiences of the griever? What about the circumstances surrounding the death? Does religion help when the death was sudden, unnecessary, and not understandable?
One thing the counselor got right is that I have had a traumatic shock. Apparently I have also entered a stage of what is known as "complicated grief." That seems so obvious as to almost be insulting. Duh.
I'm reluctant to go back to that counselor, or any counselor for that matter. I have tried multiple methods of distraction, action, and reaction. They might help for a time but they quickly become useless as a means to ease the pain. I don't drink, smoke, or do drugs of any kind. I have very few responsibilities to occupy my time. I did get a part time job, but it consists of 4-10 hours a week. For now I have decided to do what comes naturally to me and turn to books. Over at the Roll To Disbelieve blog, I asked for book suggestions to deal with grief as an atheist. I received two. The first was Zen without Zen Masters.
I ordered the book and set about reading it by just opening it to a random page. You can do that with this book because each page is self contained. There is an illustration or mini lesson on each page. I had been pre-warned that it was a bit irreverent. I didn't find it insulting, but it was more flippant than what I needed. Also, there was more about sex than I expected, which was not relevant for me. The most helpful part was near the end, describing various meditations and exercises other than the ones popularly thought of when we hear the words. I would like to examine these more. 1. Breathing meditation 2. Moving meditation. 3. Walking meditation 4. Transcendental meditation. 5. Daily exercise (live in the day) 6. Being exercise (become part of a particular cultural experience) 7. Candle exercise 8.Decisive exercise (using CAN achronism to help decide what to do) Etc.
The book's main message seems to be: Do not take yourself too seriously. Very hard for me right now under the circumstances. However, I do want to explore a buddhist approach to death and grieving. I found help in some Buddhist philosophy as I was deconverting from Christianity. Maybe it will be of some use again. I checked out a book from my library, called The Five Invitations: What Death Can Teach us about Living. I didn't realize at the time that it was also written by a Zen Buddhist. It has already given me much to think about which I will probably discuss later.
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