One act of kindness...

Kindness is defined as "the act or the state of being kind, being marked by good and charitable behavior, pleasant disposition, and concern for others." 

Synonyms are: humanity, generosity, compassion.  

I stumbled onto a blog last week - completely by chance, through a link on Twitter - and found myself reading posts written by a grief counselor, author, and hospice worker. As I read, I couldn't help but find myself relating to a lot of things she said even though my situation (can I call it that?) is completely opposite than those which she wrote of. I commented on one of her posts and later that day I had received an e-mail back along with a two part post on her blog. In all three of those things were some of the kindest thoughts and wishes - from a complete stranger.

How is it that someone who had never met me was able to say things to me that really reached into my soul and touched my heart? Things that were so relatable and significant to where I am at this point in my life. It really made me realize that grief - all kinds of it - truly brings people together whether you know them or not. 

After realizing that, and thinking about it for a few days, one message was ringing clearly (one that should have always been clear) and it was to not judge others. Everyone has either experienced grief or is grieving right now. Everyone handles it differently and no two situations are the same. Something that I tried my hardest to remember in the early weeks was that all of my closest friends (who never left my side) had also lost a friend. My parents & sister had lost a part of their family. It wasn't just myself and Alex's family - it was everyone who ever met him (because trust me, if you met him, you loved him). 

So not only did a complete stranger show incredible kindness towards me, she got me thinking about my actions towards other people. 

Choose words wisely, show compassion, and try not to judge others (or yourself) too harshly. We have one life to live, and I would like to live the rest of mine knowing that my actions and words helped rather than hurt others. 

(The blog that I referred to is: The Miracle of Hospice)

What scares you?

Irrational fears - everyone (I think) has them but where do they come from? How can we overcome them?

My biggest irrational fear was always small boats next to bigger boats (I know, I know, it's weird), and I can pinpoint the moment when this fear crept into my life. I was about 11 years old and watching Titanic for the first time and there's a tiny sail boat next to the Titanic, and for whatever reason it made my knees weak and gave me a creepy-crawly feeling. When I was in Bermuda this past summer Alex and I were sailing on this tiny starter boat (a bit bigger than an opti!) and as we were leaving the island we had picnicked on, we found ourselves in the channel at the same time as a ferry. It was massive. It was right behind us. I cried. (I'm a baby, I know.) But I had Alex there with me - a skilled sailor - and he calmed me down, sailed us out of the way, and imagine, I was fine. I was scared for no reason. My fear was irrational. 

My latest fear is the 17th of any month, and the entire month of August. My heart races and my stomach flips when I think about August and it's nine months away. The 17th rolls around of each month and I spend the day anticipating something bad. I am actually afraid of an entire month and one particular day. This past August holds one of the happiest times in my life, and the darkest, saddest, most heart-wrenching time in my life. It was an all-time high and an all-time low. A dream vacation with the love of my life, and then the death of him (all within ten days). I am also scared of ever feeling that happy again because of how quickly everything changed.

The thing about all of that is I know it's irrational. Life doesn't work like that; just because everything happened that way doesn't mean anything like that will happen again. But knowing that doesn't make me any less scared.

Obviously that isn't healthy so I've been exploring different calming techniques and options. Whenever I feel my heart race, or my stomach ache in that particular way, I do some self-guided meditation. I take a few minutes out and I turn my attention inwards. It took me a while to believe in what I was doing, which I think is half the battle, but I find it really does help me. Very recently my friend directed me to a website (www.calm.com) and it actually takes you through either a two or ten minute guided meditation session. (Thank you Kylie!)

I think it's important to understand why you fear what you fear and to take the right steps in overcoming whatever it may be. I doubt that I will ever be okay with the 17th of August, but I'm sure that, in time, the 17th of any other month will be okay.

Smile, even though your heart is breaking

I was having a very "down" moment (day) when I got an invite to celebrate my cousin's birthday next month (followed by a phone call from my padre just to say hello!) and it instantly brought a smile to my face. Sometimes it's nice just to know that life does go on. Events are planned, birthdays are celebrated, and people still care and love.

For the first month or so after Alex died, I felt as if I was being treated for a terminal illness. People were skittish around me and acted as if they were about to witness spontaneous combustion. And when I say people, I don't mean true friends or family, I just mean in general. And then there were the people (like my cousin, best friends, sister) who just invited me out to do random things and talked about normal every day occurrences.

I think it takes a special person to be around a very sad person (I often find myself wondering how I would have acted if the situation was different), and I can now fully realize and appreciate the people in my life who clearly just love me so so much that it didn't change the way they viewed me. My best friend literally took care of me right from the moment I found out (made calls, carried me, wiped my tears, helped me dress, eat, etc etc etc); I had friends who came to my house every.single.night without fail just to sit with me; My family didn't leave my side; Alex's family embraced myself and my family into their home; the list goes on and on.

I have so many people in my life who I am so thankful for - I hope you know who you are, and I hope you know that I love you! <3

"I am alive. I will survive."

"But suddenly you're ripped into being alive. And life is pain, and life is suffering, and life is horror, but my God you're alive and it's spectacular." - Joseph Campbell

The above quote is like a time release of wisdom - each time I read it I gain something from it. When Alex died it really did feel as if I was "ripped into being alive" - I didn't want to feel any of the things I was feeling, but I couldn't control it. I was alive, and that's what it felt like at that particular moment. The harder I tried not to feel and not to think, the more my mind raced with thoughts and ideas and conclusions.

I bought a book specifically about dealing and understanding sudden loss and it said to say this aloud to yourself: "I am alive. I will survive." Sounds simple enough, right? But telling yourself that when you don't want to be alive, you don't want to survive, is a challenge. It's a hard thing to come to terms with - and if I'm being completely honest, something that I'm not sure I will ever be able to fully accept. But I continue to say it to myself because it's true. (And because a little self-motivation never hurt anyone).

All of this really got me thinking about the most memorable moments in my life. I was surprised to discover that the most memorable are not the happiest of times. Why is that? I mean, I know why the most recent one is, but all of the other ones - none of them even compare to the loss of Alex so why do I choose to hold them at the front of my memory? I think a lot of the time we dwell on the bad things in our lives instead of reflecting and memorizing all of the good times, which really is a shame. 

So as much pain, suffering and loss I have to come to terms with, I am alive and it's spectacular in all of its messiness.