Week 4: Winter – Life After Loss

Nature is nature.  She marches at the beat of her own drum, strolling in and out of our lives when she sees fit.  Although, the rhythms and patterns of her movement are recognizable, to the point of prediction of when she will show herself.  Spring; Summer; Fall, and Winter, each provide tale-tale signs of what to expect and tell us of their projected entrance.

In caregiving, as we’ve been discussing, our seasons are often felt unexpected because we never learned the signs, or at least, didn’t think we needed to.  With each season, the caregiver feels caught off guard; shocked and unsure of how to move forward. 

In Spring, things are new and there is an energetic drive to learn and grow.  Come Summertime, you’ve established routines and there is a rhythm to your day-to-day activities.  Your Summer might last for years, longer than expected, until that first leaf changes color and releases from its branch– that first sign of Fall arriving.  Pumped with the adrenaline that has guided your efforts over the Summer, you continue “handling” whatever needs to be done.  From organizing the funeral to executing your loved one’s final wishes, to making decisions to sell the home or move into it.  Your brain is on autopilot.  It has been, for quite some time.  But Fall doesn’t last very long.  Winter has arrived, along with silence; an eerie stillness you struggle to shake or make sense out of.  You ask yourself “What do I do, now?”

I remember the first time I experienced snow falling.  It was the light, fluffy kind that had this incredible way of muting all sound outside.  There was peace in the stillness of that snowy day.  When I entered my Winter season of caregiving, I sensed a similar silence around me, however it wasn’t peaceful.  It followed me like a shadow, and I found myself lost and wandering daily in search of “what do I do now?”  It was my therapist that pointed out that I went from 30 years in the military, to a divorce, to full-time caregiving, getting remarried, to running a mobile notary business, to managing both my mom’s and brother’s estates at the same time, writing a book and moving three times in between all of that until the silence finally hit.  My therapist noted “you are still trying to land and figure out who ‘Julie’ is or wants to be after retiring from a career in the military.”  There was so much noise around me for so long, as it began to fade, I began to hear the silence of “me” and saw insignificance.  I suddenly felt irrelevant.

What do I do now?

Caregivers tend to give “all” of themselves to that purpose.  I had given all of myself to the Army, my marriage, my kids and a small circle of friends, then my mom and brother when they needed me most.  “Others” were what drove me to get up every day. 

No longer reporting for duty, or having to worry about my adult children, or managing my brother/mom’s medications and appointments, it was time for me to stop trying to meet others’ expectations and start meeting my own.  My husband and I were ready to jump into this thing called “retirement”, not to mention, lean into our own relationship. 

Growing up I always loved dancing but never took it any further than the occasional dance club.  I also enjoy fitness and my husband, and I do our best at staying active.  Many years ago, I came across a fitness modality called Groove.  It combines the art of dance with movements that help with balance and strengthening, as well as coordination.  When the silence of my Winter season set in, I got quiet again.  When I did, an opportunity to get my license as a Groove Facilitator presented itself.  I reflected on what I had accomplished in my lifetime and what really brought me joy.  Whenever I dance, I feel the weight of the world just fall off my shoulders.  I knew I wanted to share that with others in hopes of them, not only finding joy in movement, but allowing them a moment to themselves to let go of the stressors of their world.

The Winter season may be the hardest of them all, but with a change of perspective – a reframing of your surroundings, it could be a seed for an amazing upcoming Spring.