On the other side of loss…
Apr 1st, 2009 by Annie
She had four children in five years. The most significant that happened to her life, she told us, was losing one of those children to cancer when he was five years old. “I don’t talk about this very easily.” she said, looking down and speaking very quietly, “but it was pivotal for me. It changed my life — jelled it in a profound way. I have an image that comes to mind about that time. It’s of a white fire roaring through my life and burning out what was superficial, frivolous or unimportant and leaving a core of…. I don’t think there’s any other words for it than love. A core of love. It’s hard to convey what that means.”
The Guest House
This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.Rumi
Dear Fellow Travelers,
Listening to the economic news it can feel like all the wells we dug are drying up and the “plenty” has left the land. The desert of scarcity widens in front of us. Some of us already have our feet in the hot sand –we’ve lost our job or our house. Others have only heard reports and stand steeled against the possibility of loss. There is no way to spin a foreclosure into something shiny. But I’ve been through enough to know two things: If we keep our hands, hearts, and hands open and ready there is more, more than we can imagine; and we are often changed for the better by losing what we thought we could not live without.
There are those who would simply ask me to get off of my cloud, but I write from the outpost of loss. Not the kind that landed me under a bridge sleeping in a cardboard box, but one that loosened all my anchors and left me adrift, broke, and renting a small, cold room. Out here beyond the clutching spasms of grief is a place where clearly, effortlessly, gratitude springs from the smallest things.
My words make the process sound easy but it is not. But, much of what loss inspires is decidedly not pretty, not spiritual, not evolved: hopelessness, shame, regret, and anger. That is why we are taught well to “get over” these feelings. There are thousands of ways to tune out or escape and I grew so weary of the sadness and fear that I tried a few. But Rumi’s precious words often brought me around to the essential work of welcoming all the “guests.” And thanks to others who talked openly about their loss, I learned that I should prepare settings for other guests who had not yet arrived and might not yet imagine. They could not tell me who or what would come, because even if they could predict it, I would not believe them. So I diligently prepared the welcome even when I no longer remembered all the good reasons to live.
This past fall, two and a half years after who I thought I was disappeared and all ground dissolved, a “me” emerged who had little concept of self beyond what arose in the moment. I felt unhinged in a good way. I occupied a liminal space. I woke to each day expectant and supple aware that no day is like the last, every moment offers itself new. And soon afterwards all sorts of guests arrived until I burst daily with gratitude.
Blessings and love to you,
Annie,
One of the things I remember about my time with you is how I used to marvel at what a solid home life you had and had been raised in/with.
Your family was THE most stable family I’d ever seen. Mother and Father - solid marrage after 25 or so years, both teachers at a prestigious private school in Pa. (The Hill School). 5 older siblings all college educated… You yourself headed for a college education as well.
You all seemed so amazing to a broken home product like me. My mother was on her 6th marrage by the time I left home at 15 years old.
I mention all of this because you’re talking about: “There are those who would simply ask me to get off of my cloud, but I write from the outpost of loss. Not the kind that landed me under a bridge sleeping in a cardboard box, but one that loosened all my anchors and left me adrift, broke, and renting a small, cold room. Out here beyond the clutching spasms of grief is a place where clearly, effortlessly, gratitude springs from the smallest things.”
Did you lose your family? ”
If so, I know about loss (My Brother Charlie, ex-girlfreind Judy Madden, and my best freind:Tommy Curtis in a single year right after my time with you), and it must have been devastating for you. And obviously, you have my deepest sympathies.
If not… Well, unless you had a falling out with all 7 members of your amazing family, how did you wind up in a “small, cold room” with 2 kids. “…adrift (and) broke”?!?
Excuse me for asking, but what the hell happened to you that nobody helped you out ?
That don’t sound like the O’Shaughnessey family I knew.
Somethin’ aint right, here.
- S
Annie,
Skip sounds like he’s on to something–this does seem like a missing piece.
Do you have the courage to write about this? If not, say why?
Linda
This is a long response, but it is not long enough to describe my feelings.
My family did not die — all alive and well. And yes.. your view of my family is right on. I had a very solid and loving foundation. But for whatever reasons, I chose some rough roads. Maybe I wanted to test myself, maybe I felt undeserving, maybe I simply wanted the life I didn’t have. I don’t know. I have spent a good deal of time trying to figure out how a person like me from such a solid background could have travelled down some of those roads willingly.
I do not feel up to relaying all of my journey here, right now, but I will share the loss I speak of.
I left my first marriage after 8 years. The kids were small. In retrospect I had married as a way to grow up, to be responsible and prove that I had my act together. I had been an irresponsible, impatient, impulsive, selfish young woman and I wanted to change those things. So I married a really good responsible guy. But, I didn’t really love him. But I thought if I just fixed myself, I would learn how. Despite my best efforts it didn’t happen. I could have had the suburban dream if I could have just stayed, but I wanted more. I wanted a sense of real purpose and I wanted to feel a sense of belonging — something I didn’t feel in the life I had. Many women seem to find that purpose in raising children, but that was not true with me. Being a mom was very difficult. I stayed in their lives and turned out to be a great 1/2 time mom. My kids are now 14 and 16 and doing really well.
After I left my first marriage I met a brilliant, creative, guarded man who had just survived an incurable cancer. He had started a publication about the beauty of the natural world and the importance of living your truth. He was a difficult, moody, man but I fell in love with him and his work. He had ran away from home and quit school when he was 16 years old. His journey fascinated me. When I met him he had 1500 subscribers to the publication. He was thinking of quitting it. So I quit my good job as a director at a school and “threw my lot in with him.” He had been bankrupted by the cancer so he had no credit to fund the business. I let him borrow a huge amount on mine. I worked 60-70 hour weeks to build the business with him. I wrote books, edited, designed and led some workshops to help other people remember who they were before they started forgetting. We got married. We bought a house. We bought a cabin in the woods (our dream) After 6 years of hard work, we had 34,000 readers all over the country. 100s of letters came in a week telling us how our work changed their lives, inspired them etc. I traveled around the country to meet these people and became very close to many. This was my tribe. People with open hearts. I finally felt like I had a place in the world. I had a purpose. I finally felt like I found the way i could serve; they way I could make up for the mistakes I had made and the people I had hurt.
And then my husband left me. And since he founded the business, I had to leave the business. In one fell swoop I lost my work, my tribe, my love, my house, my cabin, and our dog. Everything that I thought was “me” was gone. I thought I would be fine, bounce back like I had from other things. But I didn’t. I was completely disoriented and adrift. I couldn’t find “me” didn’t know who “I” was. I was completely unprepared for how this loss of identity would effect me.
I started Soul Flares as a way to stay in touch with some readers. I got into a relationship with a man 14 years younger who became very dependent on me emotionally and financially so I ran through my savings out of wanting to help him — another wounded person I thought I could help. He would threaten to kill himself if I left him. I felt I had really hurt my first husband by leaving, so I was determined to be a good person and not leave anyone. I see now that I was also into helping other people, because it made me feel better. It made me feel less screwed up to be around someone who seemed more screwed up. It made it so I didn’t have to look at myself as much.
I fell in to a depression, something I thought “strong” people like me didn’t experience. But every day I would just be going along, trying to make things work and I would fall into this bottomless black hole — just like a real hole. I felt ashamed. I felt scared for the first time in my life. (that I can recall) I felt small and other than the hurt it would cause others, could not figure out why it was so important to keep myself alive. My sister kept bugging me to take meds. I finally did for two days, but they made my body hurt so much that I stopped. I stopped the same day I went out into the woods to do a 4-day vision fast. A friend leads them and I decided I would try it. I decided I would go out in the woods — find a place to sit alone and not eat for 4 days and just let myself fall, to see if there was a bottom. It is called a death lodge ceremony. I spent one whole day reflecting on my whole life. The next day preparing to die, the third day dying (with an all night vigil) and the fourth day sitting in gratitude for life.
They were the longest 4 days of my life, but they were the turning point. Hungry and alone out there in the woods, I finally felt myself. Hard to explain. But there was an Ann who existed beyond her job, her husband, her house.
I had run out of money and could not get a job so I lived at a community farm where I worked in exchange for rent and worked at a alternative highschool as their cook. I re-discovered my love of teaching, especially the troubled kids.
I left the woods determined to save my life so to speak. it took another year to leave the young man who became more and more critical and controlling. But when I did that, I was finally able to focus on the life I needed to rebuild for me and my kids.
All during this time, I had become more and more distant from my kids. I couldn’t afford a home near their dad who lives in a very expensive town here.. I rented a room from a friend for $500/mo in a town 45 minutes away , but it turned out to not have very good heat.
My parents have helped me recently get an apartment of my own so I can see the kids. It is 10 miles from their town. I have just started a great job that I love, working with troubled teens. I am seeing someone who I feel really good with. So life is finally feeling a bit settled again.
As for my family helping me. O’Shaughnessy’s are trained not to ask for help. We are supposed to be strong and self-reliant. I have learned to do it some, but it is still very hard. I did ask my parents for the help needed to get this apartment. I just found out I owe $1500 to the government and need to ask for help with that. I have discovered how hard it is to admit I need help.
I am a bundle of contradictions — always have been. On one hand I am indomitable, spirited, courageous and love easily. On the other hand I have feared intimacy,have felt unable to handle the demands of life, and have struggled with regrets. Folksinger Greg Brown says it well for me:
I’ve lost track of my mistakes,
like birds they fly around
And darken half of my skies.
To all of those I’ve hurt -
I pray you’ll forgive me.
I to you will freely do the same.
So many things I didn’t see,
with my eyes turned inside,
playing the poet game.
In the past 6 months I have slowly come fully back to myself. It was a long important journey. I feel humble and feel every day as a gift. This tiny little apartment seems like a mansion to me.
I have realized that the effect of loss cannot be measured by the event, but by the degree to which the person is identified with what has been lost. Losing a job might be more traumatic to someone than losing a parent. The loss I experienced cleaned out my house so to speak. I am better for it.
My experience of loss has changed my life profoundly.
Annie,
Good luck.
No angles… I mean that.
I know you’ll come out on top. You just need to be Annie O’, and you’ll be fine.
- S
Thought you folks might enjoy this:
It’s by the Prophet Omega set to a nice Rock/Bluesy vibe on an Adrian Belew song entitled “I Am What I Am”… Pretty much sums up how I look at life.
“Friends seen an’ unseen…to you that are ridin’ along
in your automobile…to you that are sitting at you table
I greet you with the holy word ‘Peace’…
for with my infinite mind I thinks constructively…
and I’m able to draw whatsaever I want into my immediate
surroundin’…for yo’ minds are my mind
and my mind is yo’ mind and I’m sendin’ out
my mind to you, you, an’ you…
You’ve got to remain to bein’ yourself…you cannot be
nobody else, it ain’t no use tryin’ bein’ no whirlwind
an’ uh, jumpin’ here an’ an’ playin’ checkers with
your own life, that ain’t gonna work, baby…
Now repeat these words behind me:
‘I am what I am’…now that’s all you are…
you are what you believe you are…stretch out
So many of you all in Radioland, you’re not stretchin’ out…
but I want to say one thing to you today…it makes no
differen’ who you are, what you’re doin’, what you’re
tryin’ to do or want to do, repeat these words
‘I am what I am and that’s all I am…is what I am’…
that’s all I, look, that, that’s all I am is what I am…and I’m it
Make no differen’ whether it’s in the mornin’,
the evenin’, or in the night time…
hair breakin’ out, bald headed…it’s the same thing…
you are what you believe you are
‘Cause some of you all are sittin’ there right now,
amen, an’ tell if you had a necktie on yo’, on now, right now,
a whirlwind would come along an’ choke you to death,
that’s how bad luck some of you all in…
some of you all in such a bad luck right now
that you couldn’t hit a barn with a baseball bat…
some of you all in such a bad luck right now, amen,
if you was to sit down by-a-by-men, by a pond, amen,
somethin’ would come up an’ stick ya’
you just in that bad a’ luck…
I am what I am…now repeat this behind me:
‘I am what I am and that is all I am and I am it’…
Yes, I know what you’re sayin’…stretch out…oh, yes…stretch out”
Like the man says; I Am What I am and That is ALL I Am … And I am IT..!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Stretch Out, Man,
- S
Annie,
I’m not good at writing my feelings, but I wanted you to know how much your writings have meant to me over the years.
I know so many people experiencing loss right now, and what’s clear is that it’s a *personal experience*. No one can know anyone else’s circumstances, perceptions, history, or feelings.
I believe what you have felt and described is *your truth*.
Thank you so much for your courage to continue to stand up for yourself, and for the inspiration you give to so many people as you hold steadfast and share your experiences. I wish you much love, peace and healing on your journey.
Sky
this post moved my heart as many of the things you lost are things i also fear to loose. seeing you getting stronger makes me feel more secure as i remember that i too have survived the bright flame that devours all but that which glows brighter when it is heated.
i find your writing beautiful and honest and inspiring.
I thought about you today,
I found an old Heron dance,
it was so ripe and resonant with you,
and your dance,
It made me smile.
We are all unfolding
slowly
to our own inner song.
I hope that TODAY,
was a Good day.
and that you sat in awe of your many blessings.
and laughed
at least twice.
and were hugged…
and felt the warmth of a strangers loving thoughts
from across the miles.
blessed be
Annie,
be Blessed
Annie,
Your journey seems to be one of the shaman, or wounded healer, who is dismembered, dies to the old self, and is resurrected to share healing with others. What a blessing to your students that you have lived to tell the tale, to report from the other side, to give them faith and confidence that they, too, will be able to travel that territory safely.
For myself, much of what I have labeled “depression” and taken meds for is really ADD. I highly recommend the book “Driven to Distraction.” I admire you so much!
Annie, This is the second time I have written to you. I am a long-time subscriber to Heron Dance but, for me, something left with you. The first time I wrote was to order a subscription for my beloved brother-in-law who was dying of lung cancer. We have since lost him, but learned in the last year of his life that he was a wonderful poet. I treasure the writings he left me and hope someday to share them with the world.
Then I lost a dear friend to ovarian cancer. Over the last year of her life, we spent hours talking quietly and enjoying the antics of a Great Blue Heron that visited a pond near my home. I had never known that we had this joy in common. After her death I wrote the following poem:
ON BLUES–FOR LINDA
Heron, Great Heron
Reminder to me
Of beauty that’s fleeting
As waves on the sea.
Like butterfly shadows
On petals of pink
And essence of lavender
Gone in a wink.
Powerful beauty,
Tho’ fragile to view,
Lifts Heaven-bound wings
In a tribute to you.
I, too, know loss. I wish you peace, Annie.
Love, Dottie