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RIP Delene – Is there Damage in Unresolved Grief?

fran@inhealtherapy.com · May 31, 2024 · 1 Comment

RIP Delene

My niece died last week. 

Delene had known about her cancer for about a year. She was 46 years old, never married, no children. 

She’d had 3 moms, two of whom died of cancer themselves. 

Delene’s own mom died of cancer when she was 11 years old. Her 2nd mom died when Delene was 26. 

And yet, with my enquiring mind,

I wonder …. 

Was there something lying there, deeper, that may have been hiding, dormant?  

Did Delene really and truly have time to grieve the death of her biological mom, and again, her 2nd Mom, and was she able to express and accept all of her feelings of grief? Her sadness, anger, guilt, peace, more sadness, confusion, and fear?

Dr. Gabor Mate, an imminent scholar of trauma and recovery states, 

 “The greatest damage done by neglect, trauma or emotional loss is not the immediate pain they inflict but the long-term distortions they induce in the way a developing child will continue to interpret the world and her situation in it. All too often these ill-conditioned implicit beliefs become self-fulfilling prophecies in our lives. We create meanings from our unconscious interpretation of early events, and then we forge our present experiences from the meaning we’ve created. Unwittingly, we write the story of our future from narratives based on the past.”

There is also evidence that suggests, “Grief has been found to elevate the risk of immune response and inflammation-related illnesses, including a heightened risk of tumor development. Therefore, the literature suggests that some cases may have an elevated cancer risk associated with grief. (Bioanalytical and Life Sciences, Anthoni Huggins-Cooper).

Lastly, in regards to death of a parent specifically from cancer, 

“… younger children worry more than their peers and express themselves more readily than older ones (Haine  et al., 2008; Silverman & Worden, 1993). Girls tend to internalize their problems, whereas boys externalize more (Dowdney, 2000; Haine et al., 2008). Lastly, longitudinal studies have suggested that girls are more vulnerable over time compared to boys (Dowdney, 2000).”

No amount of time can ever totally alleviate the grief of a child to the death of a parent. But time, patience, understanding and insight into the grief process is all important for healing.

Do you have grief you haven’t given yourself time to process? Something from your own childhood, or perhaps even adulthood? It could be from trauma, loss, neglect, or even death.

Our own inner child is not unlike the physical child who grieves a loss; young, inexperienced, misunderstood, afraid, and confused.

Inner self talk is something I often do for myself when I get triggered and when I sense it’s not the in-charge, capable-adult-Fran response I’m acting out. Instead it’s Fran who is much younger, and raw with inheld emotion.

Then I talk to my own inner child using the SHIFT method:

SHIFT

And so I am…

Sensitive to my self talk.

Hearing what I’m saying to myself.

Intuiting what is going on inside me.

Feeling these feelings.

Trusting them, talking to them, and turning them over to God to Take care of and Transform.

Given time, giving myself a big hug, treating myself gently, consoling myself for my pain that was not recognized by a loving adult at the time, all serves to help me grieve my own past.

I wish that for you. No one needs to live, or die, with unresolved grief.

I love you sweet Delene, RIP.

See you on the other side of the sky.

Love is ….

fran@inhealtherapy.com · May 22, 2024 · 8 Comments

When I was a girl growing up in the wilds of a 12 sibling family, with 6 older brothers, and 3 older sisters, one of the words we never said aloud was “love”.  I got into the habit of saying “I’m glad…” instead of “I love” simply because we were taunted and teased mercilessly if we uttered that 4 letter word aloud.  Then the cartoon “Love is…” came along, and because it was a comic, it seemed ok to read the word “love” silently, and no one in my household seemed to mention that the couple of youngish looking characters were indeed naked, and clearly by the looks of their bashful and reddened cheeks, in love.

Well, what is the meaning behind the word “love”?  The English language only has one word to describe all the different types of love, ie. passionate, animated, lust, marital, etc. while in Greek, there are eight different words that all describe “love” in one way or another.  Incidentally, the Japanese language has no word for love.  So, my question today is, if we had more words for “love”, would we be better at describing it and our feelings about it?  

I think of Inuit up north of me in Canada, and their many words for snow.  Icelandic has even more, with over 80  different words for snow: Blinding snow, crystalized snow, heavy wet snow, spring snow, and many more.  We know from their geographical location that snow is significant, both to their well-being and to their livelihood.  The word is significant.  It is necessary to be specific.

Unfortunately, I think the word “love” in the English language has been dealt an injustice. 

Perhaps the “Love is…” comic had it right by describing what love is.  Written and drawn by Bill Asprey, continuing over 50 years, the cartoon encapsulates the deep and sometimes truly personal idea of love (Love is… a kind of heaven, only better” as well as the simple and easy definition of love (“Love is… a sweet hello”).  

So what is it in your life that you would describe as “Love is…?”

This past weekend was Mother’s Day 2024.  I had prepared myself to not get my hopes up; my grown daughters have their own lives, their own friends, and their own significant others.  I was fully prepared emotionally (almost) to expect very little time with them and was well aware that I shouldn’t want or need more.

I had THE BEST MOTHER’S DAY EVER!  Really.  

Since we in English have only one word for “love”, here’s my best definitions from this past weekend that describes how I felt loved:

Love is….your 29 year old daughter having you over at her house for 2 nights and also taking you paddleboarding with 3 of her knock-dead gorgeous friends.

Love is….your daughter telling you that her gorgeous friend thinks “Your mom is great”.

Love is…having all 5 members of your immediate family share their best stories of growing up.

Love is…throwing a bocce ball on the sand in a private spot on a well-known river, in the middle of no-where.

Love is…not cooking once, because your daughter and her partner take charge, make breakfast, and 2 suppers, one of which is a full-out barbeque for the first spring event!

Love is…not worrying about where your kids are, because they are with you.

Love is…finding out the first time your daughters said, “I love you” to their spouses, and how they responded.

Love is…seeing your two daughters so happy and fulfilled in their relationships with their spouses and their friends.

Love is…being hugged so hard my back cracks.

Love is…being given the warm duvet, remote control, getting tucked into bed, and shown how to work the smart TV.

Love is…being cared about and cared for by my sons-in-law.

Love is…having a sweatshirt made for me by my beautiful, talented oldest daughter that says, “MOM, est. 1992,” with our 3 names, our birth flowers, and in my favourite colours.

Love is…having no idea how to paddle board, and being taught how to by my daughter and her dog.

Love is…being given the big blanket to sit on when on the beach.

What are your “Love is….” definitions?

With only one word for love in the English language, I sure am grateful that my “Love is…” says it in such a way that my eternal love for my daughters on Mother’s Day is loud, clear and emboldened.

“Love is….” having been so loved that it overflows into the rest of your life.

Thanks Mr. Asprey.  

Mother’s Day Dread?

fran@inhealtherapy.com · May 5, 2024 · Leave a Comment

Ever get the feeling that Mother’s Day is over-rated and wish it would just go away? Today I talk about the ups and downs of Mother’s Day and whether this special day is necessary.

jump-with-friends-in-sahara-desert

When the desert seems dry between you and your family, what gives you nourishment?

I’ve had 31 official “I’m a Mother” Mother’s Days over my lifetime. Thankfully, I was also able to enjoy this day with my own mom 42 times. What has all that taught me about this day, and the days before and afterwards?

When my daughters were old enough, they would make and bring me breakfast in bed. Cereal and milk, toast, and when they were a little older, pancakes. I loved having them cherish me that way. I loved how committed they were to giving me a lovely day to remember. They in their little nighties, sitting on high stools in front of the griddle, anxiously waiting for the pancake bubbles to pop so they could flip or remove them from the heat.

One of my most cherished posters, that still hangs in my living room, is the one my older daughter made when she was only 7. It shows herself, her sister, and me together with our dogs, and a huge banner that says “Mother’s Day” above the skyscrapers.

So, why the dread of Mother’s Day Fran?

Mother’s Day as an event may have started out promising, a way to honour our moms for the hard work they do daily, and give one day back to pamper and indulge her. As a child, we made and gave homemade school-crafted cards and gifts to our moms, and I loved receiving these from my own daughters. (I still have them tucked away and love to reminisce about how small they were, and their cute printing and words). Thank you teachers!

Later, when they grew up and moved on, they would make gifts together to give me. One year they went to a pottery class and made me separate gifts. Love those too!

When they became more involved with their own lives, the visits home became fewer and the homemade gifts intermittent. If I suggested a Mother’s Day weekend visit with them in their home-cities, most often they were able to accommodate an evening overnight or at a restaurant.

What happened? The thoughts that roll through my head are several:

  1. Martyrdom: A mom will always love her children more than they love her.
  2. Denial: They are busy and have their own lives. Work and commitments don’t stop just because of a date on the calendar.
  3. Guilt: If I’d been a better mom when they were growing up, they would be closer to me now.
  4. Grief: I miss them so much my heart is breaking.
  5. Bargaining: One supper together is great. I’ll travel to you so you both don’t need to take the time to travel.
  6. Blaming: It’s the fault of capitalism, marketing, and advertising. The more Mother’s Day is promoted, the more sales there are in flower shops, restaurants, cards, and of course, gifts. The more hype there is around having the best day of the year, more often than not, it doesn’t seem that way at all. Not if I’m without my daughters.
  7. Anger: I hate Mother’s Day, please don’t mention it.
  8. Acceptance: (Not there yet).

What is all going on here?

Firstly, I know my own narrative overlays my original thoughts. Feelings of unworthiness, not good-enough, and rejection slams a door in my face. This of course was born in my childhood, and being the 10th of 12 children, neither of my parents seemed to realize that I was being lost in the crowd. And unless you were a rebel child, superstar, or a sick child, you fell by the wayside in favour of the others. For those of us who were born into distraction, abuse, or neglect, we try even harder to be loved.

Secondly, I know I could’ve/should’ve/would’ve been a better and more attentive mother if I’d known then what I know now. That kind voice inside my head tells me I tried my best, and then the other, nagging voice says, “Did you really try your best, or did school take the best of you, and you left the rest for when you got home after work?”

Thirdly, yes, yes, yes, the marketing of Mother’s Day now rivals that of Christmas and Black Friday. If merchants can promote Mother’s Day for a whole month, all the better for their quarterly reports to the shareholders. Credit card companies are more than happy to provide credit for last-minute gifts.

Lastly, perhaps it’s all true.

All the guilt, and loneliness, the marketing madness, and the distorted image of Mother’s Day needs to be viewed realistically. In this way, we can all grow in our own humanity and culture. Those handmade cards and the beautiful Mother’s Day poster, are still the most perfect, most loving and kind gifts I’ve ever received. They are worthy, and when I’m feeling down and lonely, I’ll put those cards back up on the fridge, phone my kids and tell them I miss them, and hope to see them for Mother’s Day weekend.

It’s up to me to continue working on my own inner healing and self-forgiveness, to remember the close times, and to say a prayer and have faith that all things work out for good for those (like me) who love the Lord.


If you can, hug your mom for me, and tell her that I appreciate her for birthing you, a miracle. If you can’t, say a prayer for all of us who wish we could hug our moms, one last time, and hug our children many, many more times.

Lovingly, in light and gratitude,
Fran
PS. Acceptance will come.

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