Daryl Wood's Blog

Posted by: Ms. Daryl Wood | January 24, 2024

Nothing Lasts Forever

Every moment has it’s beauty and specialness or it’s dull and ordinary. But so it is. And when its gone – which by the way will be forever whether we like it or not – we will remember it with fondness or indifference. The special moments warm our hearts and soften our edges. Watching the otters fishing on the partially frozen lake is delightful but it doesn’t last forever. Sitting in the darkness waiting for daylight is temporary. We welcome and seek more of those happy moments to fill our days. And what if dull or ordinary or even sad moments persist and we judge them to be unworthy and still they happen? Do we lose sight of what is real because we long for something else or can we accept that this is a dull moment and continue to be loving and kind for no other reason than to be alive and present? To be in whatever moment is happening without judgement because we know that nothing on earth lasts forever and this is simply what is in front of us right now.

Doug died before me. I am carrying on because I am still here and no matter how much time, energy, emotion, thought and persistence I use, that doesn’t change my current reality. This is what the present moment looks and feels like. Will I weep for the sound of his voice, the touch of his strong hands, the smell of his head on my shoulder, his playful humour? Yes. Yes. Yes. That is all true. The thought that it would not last forever was abstract until it came to be.

As I read about impermanence I see that I have missed that initial lesson in life. Of course change has been happening since my birth and all the decades in between. I grew and learned even when everything around me changed, sometimes by my choice and just as often by circumstances around me. Exciting opportunities emerged and nudged things that once mattered out of the way to make room for experiences that continuously shaped my life. Friendships that seemed rock solid melted away creating space for others to walk with me. And books, oh yes, my books. I have loved so many books that I held onto for years believing having them on my shelf was necessary until there was no room for the new, more intriguing books to land.

What I have thought would be forever in life has not always been and this recent loss is a painful reminder. Could I have been better prepared if I had studied impermanence as they do in some cultures? Perhaps. “Good” change has been celebrated while “not so good” change has been allocated to the side. But all change has changed me in some way and I am better for having survived what may have seemed impossible at the time.

The paradox is that his passing is the permanence that is frequently referred to in the grief healing process. Yes, he is gone FOREVER from this physical world. That’s a fact. And no, the feelings I have right now will not always be as acute as they are right now. Sheryl Sandberg addresses this beautifully in her book Option B with Adam Grant. I’ve given the book to other widows and found inspiration in it myself as I was widowed. Even my love for him has changed since we said goodbye. I am adjusting to the realization that our relationship continues in a much different way but what we had in this physical world is no longer possible.

So this morning I am sitting on the edge of something I can’t quite put my finger on. It feels comforting and inspiring and hopeful. I wish this feeling could last forever but I know that the grief will find its way into my world at some point and I’ll surrender to the ache again because … nothing lasts forever.

4 Comments

Posted in Conscious Thought, consciousness, Grief, Inspiration, New perspectives, Personal Growth | Tags: awareness, change, consciousness, coping with change, Grief, impermanence, Inspiration, living with grief, nothing lasts forever, permanence, Personal Growth

Posted by: Ms. Daryl Wood | January 23, 2024

What About You?

Fourteen years ago Doug’s sister passed away after a devastating illness. It was heartbreaking for so many and especially her adult children. I clearly remember being at the ‘wake’ after the official service and my Doug being overcome with emotion. He approached his nephew and said “I’m so sorry for your loss.” And then, a beautiful moment of reverence unfolded as his nephew took his shoulders and replied, “And I am so sorry for your loss too.” I have never forgotten the generosity of this young man who had unfailingly supported his mother through nine months of painful decline. For him to have the love and understanding to be with someone else’s grief while his own was suffocating was truly an act of some kind of holiness.

What I realize is that I have not been in that head space these past ten weeks. I’ve acknowledged the losses of Doug’s children but as more and more friends tell me how much they are grieving Doug I am realizing that I have not been able to hear what others have been saying. And for certain, I am not holding myself accountable because who knew what a tizzy this grief thing would throw me into.

It’s not that I haven’t been aware and empathetic to others. There are several losses this month from the past and present. I’ve done my best to let others know I am thinking of them but what is obvious is how much I have avoided hearing how Doug’s passing has impacted people who loved him. They have had to grieve alone or with each other. It has been too hard for me to be open to listening to what feels like a compounding of my own grief.

As much as I’ve pushed back on these conversations I realize they are coming. The few times people have said ‘he was such a great guy, a good soul, a kind man, a special friend,’ etc. makes me feel proud to have been his wife. And it also reminds me of what I have lost and what we will all miss in the weeks and months ahead.

There’s nothing to do about this right now. Time will come. It felt important today to say out loud and again that grievers need a very wide berth. We, myself, the people closest and those on the edge of a beloved person, can and will do their best. And long ago, a young man showed up with his best in a memorable way.

1 Comment

Posted in Conscious Thought, Grief, Inspiration | Tags: awareness, consciousness, gratitude, Grief, insight, Inspiration, kindness, Personal Growth, Personal Responsibility

Posted by: Ms. Daryl Wood | January 22, 2024

There’s A Hole In My Sidewalk

-1-
I walk down the street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I fall in.
I am lost … I am hopeless.
It isn’t my fault.
It takes forever to find a way out.

-2-
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I pretend I don’t see it.
I fall in again.
I can’t believe I’m in the same place.
But it isn’t my fault.
It still takes a long time to get out.

-3-
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I see it is there.
I still fall in … it’s a habit.
My eyes are open.
I know where I am.
It is my fault.
I get out immediately.

-4-
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I walk around it.

-5-
I walk down another street.

Portia Nelson

In my deep grief it’s been hard to see that hole and even harder to avoid it when it was obvious. The hole is so big, the size of the whole street, the neighbourhood, the whole world. It feels so awful to fall into that hole and I have needed a lot of help to get back out.

Then, two days ago, I saw the hole before I fell in. I walked around it. Yesterday afternoon it happened again. I saw the hole and could almost feel it beckoning me, pulling me in. It’s very seductive and part of me wanted to be in that darkness. And the part of me that didn’t, quietly whispered in my mind “not this time”. I stepped back, made conscious choices and ended the day with a smile. Yes, a smile. I still ache and long for Doug. And I smiled.

That hole might always be there. I might fall in again. I might walk around it or choose a different street. Now I have evidence that I can. Let’s all remember to be gentle with ourselves when we discover we are not where we want to be. We are always at choice.

1 Comment

Posted in Conscious Thought, consciousness, Inspiration, New perspectives, Personal Growth | Tags: awareness, choice, choices, consciousness, Grief, Inspiration, Personal Growth, wisdom

Posted by: Ms. Daryl Wood | January 21, 2024

The Promises We Make

People have such big hearts and care so deeply. They mean what they say when they pledge “I’ll be there for you no matter what” or “Whatever you need, just ask” or “Call me anytime, day or night”. And they really do mean it. They are as sincere as they have ever been in the face of someone’s (in this case my) grief. They are almost desperate to help in any way they can. But they, and I, don’t know what that looks like so we are blindfolded going into this partnership of grieving and support. Me not knowing what to ask for and how to ask. They, thinking they could handle whatever I wanted or needed.

I fault no one for their reactions. It’s an understatement to say that I’ve had a wealth of support and offers continue from loving hearts. How could I or anyone around me ever know what these promises that we make will mean as the days and weeks drag on? Who could expect themselves to be able to hold that space for someone who seems to be in and out of a downward spiral of pain?

My gratitude is wide and everlasting for those who plunged into the fray and made these commitments without knowing what it would require of them. They got me here … the ten week mark. Now comes the time of reckoning. The collateral damage of grief is not just the people who disappeared early in the game but those who have now run out of capacity to fulfill the promises they made. I am being as gentle with them as I can in my own panic that I am once again feeling a loss. And it is another loss when I realize I’ve shared the most intimate details of my journey with someone who now has to look away for their own wellbeing. Boundaries can be a very hard line for the griever and caregiver. If we remember to do our own self-care we will be far more willing and able to love others through their heartache. How many times have we heard that said and yet it can’t be said enough when you are supporting someone in acute grief.

I’ve had many, many life lessons in my 69 years and this one is certainly the most intense and profoundly life altering. Life altering is a phrase we sometimes throw around until we face it and realize the depth and breadth of such a statement. Not much in my life looks the same and even when it does, there is a different energy and shape to the world I lived in before losing my Doug.

So what would I say to someone on the edge of a promise to a loved friend or relative? I don’t have all the answers because I’m far from an expert on this. Something that has been so helpful has been to know that I’m being thought of so when I heard from people, I knew I wasn’t alone. A heart emoji, xoxoxo in an email, a card in the mail were all ways I knew someone in the world was holding a light in the dark for me.

And for the promises we feel compelled to make, it might be easier on everyone to simply offer “I’ll do what I can when I think you need me or when you ask.” If the opportunity is there to bolster these words we can add, “I hope you will know that if I have to say no sometimes it is not a reflection on how much I love you. It’s me doing the best I can and that will look different at times.” This is a far better way to communicate than to abruptly withdraw once a promise has become a burden.

8 Comments

Posted in Conscious Thought, Grief, Inspiration, New perspectives, Personal Growth | Tags: awareness, Caregiving, consciousness, death, Grief, Inspiration, life, loss, love, promises, support, wisdom

Posted by: Ms. Daryl Wood | January 20, 2024

100% Successful

At a rare lunch out last week my friend remarked that so far I am 100% successful at getting through the tough days. I have said that same thing to others but when she said it to me, it felt a wee bit heavy. Heavy because I knew that some of those days felt impossible to manage at the time. And other days were still very hard with only little bits of what I think was joy in them.

What this reminded me of was how often I/we default to negative thoughts. When the forecast is for 40% chance of rain we tend to overlook the fact that it means 60% chance of NO RAIN. Whoever says that? We always talk about the 40%, 50%, 60% chance of whatever. Where I live on Lake Huron it is so unpredictable that any percentage is usually a wild guess. How might we go about our day if we focused on the positive potential instead of being dragged down by the negative ‘what ifs’?

So noticing that I have achieved a 100% mark is actually pretty phenomenal considering how many days I wanted out of this nightmare. When I look closer, besides surviving what will be 10 weeks tomorrow I have also accomplished a lot. All the leftover food boxes and medical supplies have been donated. Excess furnishings needed for support are gone. Endless streams of paperwork has been completed and new systems in place for everyday functioning. My sewing machine has been revived and I am almost adept at moving the trickle charger between batteries once a week.

Success looks so different now and small incremental movements are being celebrated. I wonder if having my world shrink so drastically has given me an opportunity to consider what success will mean to me in the future. When we are busy with our daily lives it’s easy to keep the momentum going without giving a second look at what all that busyness is about. I would much rather have had an easier pathway to pausing but this is what I got. Would I have slowed down long enough to consider the possibilities if it weren’t such a dramatic change? Would any of us?

I Almost Missed It

There was this moment in the midst of yesterday’s sobs when I picked up my journal and began to write to Doug and whoever else might be listening (including myself). As I wailed through tears about the constant, rolling memories that hurt my heart, a little message touched my mind and I almost missed it. There was no voice and it seemed more like a concept or question related to any number of teachers I’ve followed in my thirty years of consciousness and personal growth.

It felt, more than sounded, like this “What if all those little reminders of Doug are not random but rather his way of reaching out to you to remind you of his love?” I almost missed it because I was intent on pouring my pain onto the pages. But it was too intriguing to ignore. So I sat with the thought that maybe, just maybe, I could look at these instances that I call triggers and see them as gifts. Ooooooooh. (Please pause and read that again. I had to)

I’ve reread that paragraph several times. In the moment and every moment since then this feels like a truth. I am good at imagining and visualizing but what I am certain of is that I didn’t and couldn’t in my deep grief have come up with this. At least not in the middle of such angst.

Seeds have been planted for weeks by friends and resources I have tapped into. Now, they have come together to give me a new perspective, a different approach, a shift in mindset. All things I have taught through my retreats and workshops for more than two decades. Sometimes the teacher is reminded in the most impossible ways of what they teach. I am now the student (again) and noticing the impact of this new thought on my body, mind, emotions and spirit.

I wonder if it is too soon to write about this since it isn’t yet 24 hours since I had that awareness. But writing is what I do when I need to solidify something in my mind, to bring it in to my reality to be understood or analyzed or accepted or not. So here it is. Perhaps that infinitesimal light I see in the distance is love coming to greet me. Perhaps.

2 Comments

Posted in Conscious Thought, Grief, Inspiration, New perspectives, Personal Growth, Uncategorized, Wellness | Tags: awareness, consciousness, hope, truth, wisdom

Posted by: Ms. Daryl Wood | January 16, 2024

Compassion Fatigue

Compassion fatigue is real. I remember hearing about this years ago and understood that I was feeling that way after many consecutive retreats hearing and holding space for those revealing their pain. I don’t remember how I dealt with it but since a new group of women showed up each time I was not in long term relationships with most of my participants.

And when I consider traumas in the lives of my family and friends I know I learned how to set boundaries and for the most part take care of myself. I think I managed fairly well which is why I am so aware of what is happening to my inner circle, the people I’ve been relying on to hear my grief out loud for many weeks. And in the small community I live in where just about everyone has cried or hugged with me in the past many weeks. Having experienced my own version of compassion fatigue I am not surprised at some of the responses even if these people don’t recognize what they are doing.

Some have distanced themselves and don’t check in as often as they did. Some keep the conversations short. Some are making frequent recommendations about what I ‘should’ or ‘could’ be doing. Some want to talk about politics, the weather, their annoying neighbour or just about anything other than how I’m doing. Some have a ‘tightness’ in their voice that signals (are we still talking about this?) And some have disappeared.

I get it. It’s hard to ‘be’ with deep, woeful grief. I can barely handle it myself. These changes feel like the collateral losses that accompany grief. Since most of us are unprepared and/or unskilled at how to be with grief it’s no wonder that their compassion for me is waning. And it’s no wonder I feel the loss over again.

There is no room for judgement from me even if in my moments of despair I feel resentful. I’ve learned that the best antidote is to remember the people who have stepped up and stepped in. And there are a lot of them. From out of the country phone calls to meals delivered to the stack of cards with personalized, heartfelt messages I am being supported. And those that can do more, do more. Those that can’t, I am believing, are still holding me in their hearts even if a canyon of space now exists between us.

My hope is that they are taking care of themselves

3 Comments

Posted in Uncategorized | Tags: compassion, faith, Grief, loss, love

Posted by: Ms. Daryl Wood | January 14, 2024

How Did I Get Here?

It is nine weeks today since I held my sweetie as he passed from this life. Nine weeks. How did I get here? How have I survived the unbearable pain that comes with losing my ‘person’, the one who lived within and all around my heart and life, the one who witnessed my every move, the one who held me in place when the world started spinning? And the world is spinning now in ways I had never imagined.

In my innocent arrogance I am asking how it is that I keep falling into the same patterns that most grieving people do. I am told that with all I’ve learned and all my intense training I am better skilled to handle things than most others. I’ve even said it myself in my attempt to find something normal in my new abnormal life. The truth is that I am pretty much like everyone else who suffers a great loss. We struggle through our days and nights feeling abandoned by a world that either cannot help or cannot look us in the eye. And we all, every single one of us, knows that we were those people until, for a brief moment in time, the clock stopped ticking for us.

What sustains me are the small circle of loving people who set aside their own judgements and needs to just listen to me wail when wailing is what I need. And when I pick myself up … which in itself is an absolute miracle … they are ready to converse back and forth about the weather and their lives and the minutiae of life that distracts us all.

I hardly recognize myself in the mirror yet I still see a lot of me in my daily habits and conversations. I hear myself telling someone else who is grieving about the power of forgiveness. I hear the way I accept that his suffering was undeniably harsh and to know that it is over brings me peace. I watch myself mail cards and send messages of warmth and hope to those in the middle of their own difficult times. And I send birthday greetings, blessings for new babies and congratulations on achievements

Writing is my path to inner peace. I have filled journal pages with letters to my sweet Doug and used it as a place to plant thoughts and feelings that simply must be heard. I’m told I am so strong and that I will get through this. What I know for sure is that so far, up until this Sunday morning, nine weeks through this nightmare, that I am 100% successful at getting through it.

As long as I keep asking for help, I’ll keep going. There will never be a time when there isn’t someone willing to listen. Asking for help feels risky but I am a student of how vulnerability builds connection. I ask it of others and right now, for however long I need, I will take the chance and ask.

2 Comments

Posted in Conscious Thought, Grief | Tags: Grief, living with grief

Posted by: Ms. Daryl Wood | January 14, 2024

The Dark Void of Grief

Written in mid-December: Not much of the hard work I’ve done over the past 30 years has fully prepared me for the depth of grief I’m facing now. Several weeks ago I said goodbye to the love of my life, my husband, best friend and the person I planned to spend the rest of my life with. We were so in love even after 25 years together. We got through his cancer treatments and while our lives were compromised, we made it work. We had the best year until an abrupt, miserable two months with treatment for an incurable disease. He was very ill at the end and of course I am relieved and grateful that his long suffering is over. And now I carry the incredible pain of missing him every minute of the day asking myself over and over why I am still here. It makes no sense.

I’ve comforted many people through their losses and been as generous with my time and resources to support those grieving. Until now, I had no idea how ‘lame’ my words and actions were. And now it’s my turn. Now I am the one desperately longing to hear something, to see or feel something that will ease the ache in my heart. My body, mind and spirit are completely hijacked by grief. Every grieving person I talk to and every book I read tells me that this is a very, very long journey. And so far, it is way more than I believe I can handle. There are no highs as I was used to in the past. And the lows are so profound I am surprised that I am able to write anything at all. Maybe I am because I’ve been propped up by loving, caring family and friends tonight when I started the slide into emptiness.

And maybe I’m writing because that’s what I do. I write in my journal. I write in my head as I formulate the sentences that will somehow make this unbearable situation easier.

Waiting For a Signier Sign

A few years ago I saw a funny quote that read “Every time the universe sends me a sign, I’m like ok but I think I’ll wait for a signier sign.” I thought that was hilarious then and I’ve repeated it to friends many times. Tonight, it doesn’t sound so funny as I contemplate how many times I’ve gotten a signier sign over and over again. What is it that makes us doubt the messages we get?

At first I thought it might be just procrastination, an unwillingness to have to act when I don’t want to. But that doesn’t always fit because there are so many times when I do what I need to do in spite of resistance. Another thought was fear. I must be just afraid to make a move. That also doesn’t fit because if fear was enough to stop me I wouldn’t have helped rescue our boat when it broke anchor and drifted onto a shoal last week.

Two decades ago when I was immersed in reading and listening to Caroline Myss I remember her saying “give up your need to know”. The way that lands with me now is that my insisting on knowing root causes and uncovering hidden meanings can sometimes keep me from being present and, quite possibly, paying attention to the signs from the universe. I’m all for seeking answers until that becomes the obsession that stalls forward motion. A clear example is that while in the city, I went to several stores looking for a product that I wanted. After three stores that would typically carry it I stopped to wonder if I was getting a sign. (Yes, we get signs about everything if we would only pay attention.) I decided to think about what I could use instead of the options that I hadn’t so far liked and … suddenly … I knew. Of course I could easily make the little bags I wanted. I have the material, sewing machine, thread and space. And they would be so much nicer and more meaningful than anything I could have purchased. The signs were telling me to create something beautiful rather than settle for a cheap alternative.

This was a simple example and it still points to paying attention to what the universe is trying to tell me. In particular, I’ve been intentional about my health for a long time. Lately, I notice I’m ignoring the signs from my body. As I search for my favourite ice cream in three stores (there seems to be a pattern here) I wonder if I’m getting a sign to give some conscious thought to my actions instead of impulsively following an urge. That’s a game changer.

What signs have you been getting about changes in your life? What have you listened to? What have you avoided? How might your life be different if you embraced the signs and followed the wisdom of the universe as it supports you living with joy and peace?