Posted by: Ms. Daryl Wood | July 31, 2025

The Collateral Damage of Grief

Much has been written about the way life changes for people who lose someone they love, someone they are deeply connected to such as my beloved Doug. I’ve read stories about how people suffered and survived and reshaped their lives but the lens I look through now is so different. When a friend’s husband died five years ago I gave her Sheryl Sandberg’s book Option B. I had read it with intrigue and loved the messages that she and Adam Grant shared using my typical sticky notes to mark meaningful passages. I especially like the concept that ‘things could always be worse’ and it played well into how I taught TED* (The Empowerment Dynamic) and coached people. And then my dear Doug died and I began the journey of wondering how could things have been worse.

And as hard as it was to wrap my head around, honestly they could have been much worse. For sure. What I gleaned from that book and the wonderful books by Dr. Alan Wolfelt of The Center for Loss and Life Transition was that things change. Change is inevitable. It’s so obvious to me that every aspect of my life has been upended and trying to find ‘normal’ isn’t possible when the foundation, the north star, the grounding place of my life is missing. Impermanence is so basic to Buddhism and a concept I work at embracing on a daily basis.

And then there is the collateral damage of relationships. I don’t know how to be with people anymore and lots of them don’t know how to be with me. I’m not behaving, acting, talking, thinking or showing up the same way I did before. There are glimmers of the old me and people jump on that right away as if to grasp something stable in an unstable situation. But when I am not the accepting, available, supportive woman they knew, it is so hard for them to keep up the relationship we had. I’m still a work in progress and who knows, maybe they will like me better when I show up in a new way.

I still have all the wisdom and experience I had before but now it has been reorganized into different parts of my heart and mind. Sometimes I can’t retrieve what I counted on to cope with life on a routine day. And, surprisingly, I am not willing to have as many conversations with the multitude of amazing people that populated my life. I stopped working when Doug became seriously ill and other than random exchanges I have ultimately retired from a career I loved. Along with that, is the loss of the people I shared so much growth and learning with. We had something so satisfying.

I started 2025 rebuilding with a shift into hope and possibility. I was on my way to discovering who I am and how I would use these precious days of my life. And then, after weeks of desperate phone calls and increasing illness, my older brother died on February 10. A new round of grief descended on me and I’m still not sure I have fully understood what happened. It was intense. Grief is intense.

And there is more collateral damage. More relationships that fell apart and others that are just now falling apart these 20 months on.

And to be clear, there are more relationships that emerged and strengthened and flourished. More relationships that brought joy, comfort, enthusiasm and opportunity. While the collateral damage is evident there is also collateral improvement. The goodness that can come from grief can be missed in the despair of loss. I’m not sure anything can replace what I had with my beloved Doug and yet I can’t overlook the extraordinary kindness and meaningful relationships that now fill my life every day.

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Posted by: Ms. Daryl Wood | July 30, 2025

Building Self-Esteem … Again

Decades ago when I trudged up and down Eagle Road in the early morning hours I listened to one of my favourite ‘teachers’ Caroline Myss’ audio series ‘Self-Esteem: Your Fundamental Power’. I still pop it into my car to periodically hear a message that is always timely. And one of the lines I remember so well has come to settle into my mind these past few days. That is, “You build self-esteem by honouring the commitments you make to yourself.’ Oh boy.

If I was as thorough at honouring the commitments I make to myself as I was at the ones I make to others I am guessing I’d be more accomplished in the areas of my life where I feel somewhat lacking in focus. And yes, grieving the loss of my beloved Doug probably has something to do with my inability to follow through on my personal commitments. But I know that the truth is, I wasn’t great at it before so no surprise here.

AND I led dozens of Women’s Wisdom Retreats and coached even dozens more women (and the occasional brave man) to believe in themselves enough that they would honour themselves with actions as simple as doing for themselves what they said they would. I believed it was possible and I did it. I’ve never been good at teaching what I don’t live. I have too much integrity to live by a ‘do what I say, not what I do’ mindset.

But there are areas of my life that I know I need to keep recommitting to in order to not only make changes but to also build back up the self-esteem that has been badly bruised in this period of deep mourning. In the early days, if I got my bed made and fed myself it was considered a triumph and I gave myself the requisite acknowledgements for just surviving. Now, all these months later (I can’t believe I’m saying months) I see where it requires more than just a few simple tasks to pull me up to my full height.

What is showing up for me in my meditations and journalling is how I make commitments to myself over and over again and then ignore them. It feels a bit like letting myself off the hook or making excuses. And I can be very persuasive in showing how I ‘did something else that was good’ or offering up pretty solid evidence of why something I committed to didn’t happen.

The contrast I see and have shared with a trusted friend is that if I had made a commitment that supported Doug … and there were so many of those over the six years of his cancer journey and especially in his final weeks of suffering … it was immovable. It happened regardless of sleepless nights, grueling schedules, lack of resources, etc. I simply would not allow myself to not do what I committed to except in the most extreme cases where I did everything humanly possible.

So here I sit heading to my evening journalling with a mind overrun with things I did today that don’t fall within the container of commitments I have made over and over again to myself. What happened? What ‘legitimate’ reason do I have for treating myself with less regard than my dear Doug? And what is the impact on my self-esteem of being let down again?

The harsh reality I face is that in the past, Doug would give me a boost with his ever present love and acceptance. Now, as much as I wish it were different, I am left to do that for myself. This is new territory. I have loads of examples where I have indeed honoured the commitments I’ve made to myself. Perhaps in the days ahead I will find a way to add just one more of those old commitments to my to-do list and actually get it done. We’ll see.

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Posted by: Ms. Daryl Wood | July 11, 2025

Finding Holiness in a Kayak

Several years ago I wrote a post called Halfway Between The Sun and The Moon. It was a longer than usual post so I don’t know how many people read the whole thing. I did this morning and it still holds as an anchor to so much of what my life has been and is on Eagle Harbour. Today, in the early morning hours in my kayak I hadn’t even realized there was a full moon until I floated in the big water waiting for the sun to come up. I drifted around looking at the beautiful colours of the sky when I saw her – the full moon slowly peeping out from a band of clouds. She was low in the western sky and eventually fully exposed. It got me thinking.

She was there even if I couldn’t see her. As was the sun that I was waiting for. What else was and is ‘there’ even if I can’t see it/them? And how opportune to have the clear reminder of that morning in 2021 when I had first found myself on a remarkably still Lake Huron halfway between the sun and the moon. How different life was then.

Sitting in the stillness I wondered if I could ‘hold’ all this beauty and reverence. I didn’t have anything to take a picture with and no one with me to share the experience. It would just be me and the wonder I was seeing and feeling. I knew I would come home and write about it because I write about things that touch me deeply. And I wondered if that’s why people are so active on social media (I am non existent there). Perhaps they long to be seen, heard and belong. And I know that my aching loneliness for my beloved Doug is a catalyst for some of what I do – writing, talking, sharing, connecting. It is that longing to belong and share the full range of what this amazing world has to offer. It is seeing and feeling such profound emotion in these early hours that feels too much for one heart to embrace. In a strange coincidence that’s how the painful grief feels – too much. If I can hold one, can I hold the other?

So I wrote and waited to see if I wanted to share. In my 2021 Halfway post I noted that the retelling of the story diluted it in some way. What I know for sure right now is that I soaked up the holiness of that time this morning when the lake was sacred still and I was breathing in life halfway between the sun and the moon.

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Posted by: Ms. Daryl Wood | June 28, 2025

A Rising Tide Lifts All Boats

Living on Lake Huron this is an obvious statement. But it means so much more than that for me. And today was a clear example of this phrase.

Early this morning I saw a notice that a local police constable was leading a bicycle ride to raise money for cancer. On the 45th anniversary of Terry Fox’s attempt to run across Canada with a prosthetic leg to raise money for cancer, his brother and others set out to bring in donations and awareness. A small group of riders would be coming off of the ferry from Manitoulin Island and go through the village of Tobermory to continue on their journey. Eighteen years ago Doug and visited the memorials to Terry in Victoria, B.C. and where his ride ended in Thunder Bay, Ontario. Doug was very moved and thought of Terry when he himself was diagnosed with cancer in 2017.

So, I sent out a last minute message this morning and rounded up 17 of us to stand along the highway in front of the local grocery store and wave and cheer as they rode by with an extensive police escort. They slowed down and waved back as our enthusiasm was contagious. It was an exciting few moments.

What really touched me was how much each of the people who joined me expressed their gratitude for being part of something that felt historic. Besides the many smiles and engaging conversations they felt so uplifted being part of something so special. And so … the rising tide of goodwill, lifted each little ‘boat’ who waved a flag, their arms and clapped their hands and shouted good wishes. And then we realized that many shoppers and the store owner had come out to see what the fuss was about. Many of them had big smiles and commented on our gesture.

So it is that we don’t often realize how doing something to recognize or acknowledge others can give back so much more to so many. Let’s keep the tide of kindness and compassion rising. There are many little boats waiting for a high tide.

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Posted by: Ms. Daryl Wood | June 27, 2025

Where Are You Putting Your Focus?

That’s the First Vital Question in The Empowerment Dynamic work that I loved and taught for ten years. The principle is so simple. Really. Just notice if you are focusing on problems, inconveniences, disappointments, difficulties, annoyances, and drama – big drama and little drama. Just notice. The first step in changing our behaviour is recognizing it and the second step is an honest acknowledgement of the facts as we know them. If what we are focused on makes us anxious, angry, sad, frustrated or numb then we can decide if that’s what we want to focus on. And even those of us who know this have sometimes had a hard time taking back our power by simply telling ourselves the truth. It all sounds a little like magical thinking in a world where distractions are at what feels like an all time high. But that too is a focus that limits our ability for hope.

And somewhere between noticing and acknowledging there is space, if we choose, for a pause. Space for breathing and ‘being with’ whatever rises from within. I feel this when I suddenly realize my beloved Doug is no more on the physical earth. He doesn’t live in my house as he once did and some people in my life will never know his funny, kind ways. When the noticing comes, I feel emotions racing to the surface and sometimes, when I can, I pause. I pause long enough to feel what this is like for me before I reluctantly sigh and acknowledge the truth. Even in those few moments there is time for a pause. After the acknowledgement I can quietly decide where I will put my focus.

I’ve been told repeatedly by well-meaning, loving supporters that if I focus on the blessings of my life with Doug and the blessings I have now, I will feel more ease. 18 long months in, I know, and really have known all along, they are right. Until now, it has been an almost impossible task to see anything but the void that his passing has left in my life. I say almost because with the kindness of my friends and colleagues I have dipped my toe into shifting my perspective off and on. None of us is perfect at anything and I give myself and others credit for the times we override our impulses to bring ourselves more peace.

And I am committed to feeling my feelings so I know that noticing and acknowledging don’t guarantee I will want to move out of grief. Sometimes it seems to keep me close to my much loved Doug and I am not ready to ‘give up’ that connection. And when I am ready, I stand by the lake or in woods or the grocery store or wherever I am and breathe into a place that lifts my spirits knowing I am humbled to have had such a devoted partner and years of heartfelt memories.

Where I put my focus is a powerful tool I’ve taught others. For these many months of mourning I have been ambushed so often I rarely had the capacity to change where I put my focus. I’m doing it now, as best I can, as I ease into my new life.

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Posted by: Ms. Daryl Wood | June 23, 2025

Grief Brings Us Together

My grieving has moved me into deeper, much deeper connections with people that until now, I have had more superficial relationships with – local people, neighbours, friends, even family. They have been witness to my soul, my authenticity in a way that is not about the spiritual language of authenticity, more of the sacred, holiness of my soul that has no language for what it is, no framework – it is simply and beautifully my soul – a space, an energy, a feeling.

And they have seen it, felt it, and perhaps not even been able to describe or put it into any context other than what we as a culture, as a community, as people in the throws of ordinary lives, suddenly and almost violently thrust into communications with my despair can grasp. They could not look away in the moment anymore than I could, and most of them didn’t. They stood still, wept, held their breath, hugged, spoke, remained silent, tried to find an opening to understand, to be of help, to do something, anything.

Sometimes though – not at first – sometimes my grief drew them into that soul space within themselves where we knew each other, where we were so fully connected. And my grieving – openly, honestly, vulnerably – gave us the chance to face that moment together and maybe, maybe unite, to be one with each other, to be holy together.

And what else besides grief, besides raw suffering in grief can take us there, at such a depth. Maybe love. Maybe. But with so many of us, how hard is it to love the full way that my grief has brought us together.

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Posted by: Ms. Daryl Wood | May 27, 2025

Looking For The Barrel

On my morning kayak I slowed down to look for the barrel. A few years ago as I reentered our bay I looked down and was surprised to see a large round barrel partially buried in the silt on the bottom. Most of the bay is rocky so it was luck or misfortune that the barrel ended up here where whatever journey it was on would grind to halt as the bottom claimed a part of it. I remember circling around and taking note of the location so I could point it out to others. Debris moves around on a big lake like Huron so it would be almost impossible to know where it started it’s journey.

Going on these many years I have looked for the barrel without success and again this morning, when the water was smooth as glass, I went back and forth over the area and didn’t find the barrel. I continued into the ‘big’ water past the safety of the reef (water was still there as well) and on my way back I did another search. No barrel in sight. And then I paused. I realized that I would likely always be looking for the barrel because I’d seen it once and the memory was firmly implanted in my brain. In fact, I might never go over that same spot without thinking about the barrel. It had been significant on the cruising day and would forever be in my thoughts whether I made that a conscious decision or not.

And so it is that in spite of happy walks with friends, meals together, projects, long bike rides, conversations, adventures, accomplishments, laughter, and tears, there will always be the memories of my beloved Doug in just about everything I do, even the things he had never done with me. If I can be so amazed that a barrel on the bottom of the lake has stuck with me all these years it can’t be a leap to search for Doug around every corner in every area of my life. He was, for 25 years, enmeshed with my own being in a way that suited us both in the face of joy and sadness. We were, as Mary-Frances O’Connor details in The Grieving Brain, connected on a much more physical level than even we knew.

Perhaps today you will notice what remnants of your own past have secured themselves in a way that brings comfort or at least a jolt to awaken awareness.

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Posted by: Ms. Daryl Wood | May 12, 2025

Adrian Hayes, My Inspiration

I’ve been waiting to hear from my friend Adrian Hayes knowing he is on yet another monumental expedition. We met in 2008 at a Leadership Program and have enjoyed a sporadic friendship including when he had a week stay at my home in Tobermory, Ontario. We share a special bond that has taken turns of lifting each other at difficult times. Weeks after my beloved Doug died, Adrian phoned me from his home in the U.K. to talk about Doug and reflect on how he cared about him and me.

Fast forward to last night and I got a call that he is being slowly rope carried down the side of Mount Kanchenjunga in Nepal suffering an illness that has put him in grave danger. They hope to get him to Base Camp 3 so he can be airlifted to a hospital. Apparently helicopters can’t fly any higher so the tedious descent is up to the reliable Sherpas that Adrian has worked with for decades.

As I and so many others wait and pray for his safe return I think about the drive that has pushed him to exceed what most would think of as normal limits on accomplishments. The photo here is me wearing the jacket he had on when he earned a world record for being the first to reach The Three Poles in the shortest time (Mount Everest and the North and South Poles). And he didn’t stop there. Adrian inspires so many looking for personal and professional empowerment to surpass the roadblocks they put on their way to success. He does this with his physical endeavours and the Leadership programs he offers worldwide. And this morning, he is inspiring me.

I have no desire or intention of the kind of physical extremes that Adrian would tackle. But honestly, the emotional and psychological challenges I face feel as daunting as an 8,586 m (28,169 ft) mountaintop. I can hear Adrian telling me to ‘press on’, ‘don’t give up’, ‘focus’, ‘believe in myself’. We have both grown in our fearless quests to live full on with authenticity and passion. Sometimes I still see that in myself and it’s something that keeps him striving where others, like me, might have given in to defeat.

In my search for inner peace and a willingness to find meaning again I want to be sure I don’t miss this opportunity to learn from one of my heroes. Adrian is fighting for his life and while I may be judged as dramatic for saying that I am too, there is little doubt in my heart and mind that sometimes climbing out of my despair requires the same fierce, constant attention whether it is as harsh as doing tasks that exhaust me or as soft as watching branches move slightly in the breeze. Today, mindfulness will keep me alert to the reality that is surrounding me so I am not hauled back up the mountain of grief. Today I will stay awake and when I start to slide I will gently comfort my way to self-kindness and a love for the safety and wellbeing of my friend Adrian.

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Posted by: Ms. Daryl Wood | May 9, 2025

So Much Work

In my desperate search for comfort I read books and blogs, watch videos and podcasts, talk to people, listen to people and search headlines for something that will ease the ongoing suffering. I find tremendous solace in Quiet Wisdom, The Modern Buddhist and most recently The Grieving Brain by Mary Frances O’Connor. And friends remind me to turn grief into gratitude, to notice where I am putting my focus, to be thankful I had experienced such deep love, acknowledge how far I have come and to appreciate my comfortable, uncomplicated circumstances. And it all helps. And it all reveals a part of me that is so hard to reconcile. I am still grieving deeply after one and half years. One and half years. It’s hard to even say that out loud or write about it. I am still looking for Doug to anchor me to this world that feels so alien. How could Doug have been gone that long? How have I survived without my person?

I have started several blogs only to stop myself because it felt wrong to burden others with my pain and it they sounded disjointed. What if it comes across as pathetic or too difficult to hear? What if it further isolates me? Already I watch people slip quietly out of my life (well, sometimes with some noise) as they realize that I am ‘not getting better’, ‘not moving on’, ‘stuck in the past’, ‘not grateful enough’. I hear it in subtle comments, see it in their tired eyes and feel it in their turning away, turning off, distancing.

And for all those who have grown weary of my woe, I am the one who most resents and abhors the state I am in. It is so much work. So much work to breathe through the periods of anguish that suck the life out of everything that matters to me. So much work to make decisions around even the smallest of things that I would have the confidence to do in the past. So much work to let go of the relationships that were so special to Doug and I. So much work to show my appreciation to the kind and loving souls who still take my teary calls, offer a hug, hold space without needing to fix me. So much work to eat healthy, care for my body, nourish my heart and mind with meditation and stillness. So much work to just be.

Perhaps comparing my grief to others has made me want to hide. In a world where we celebrate courage, strength, tenacity and resilience, I am holding up a mirror that gives a failing grade. If I say it takes a lot of effort to do simple things my inner critic rolls their eyes. After all, I am frequently reminded that everyone, literally everyone, has stuff going on in their lives. My struggles are far less severe and therefore, the inference is that they should not be made out to be so horrific.

And there it is. I have so, so much to be grateful for. The lists I make fill many lined pages of thankfulness for the people and places that give me ease and sometimes great joy. The question is always how to survive when I fall over the cliff and can’t see the light. And I fall over the cliff more often than I admit to others and certainly more often than I want. How do I keep simply noticing with self-love the tyranny of grief that robs me of fully engaging with this extraordinary life I have been given? How do I honour Doug’s life and all he generously gave to me and others?

Maybe, just maybe, I can find a way to see myself as worthy of this precious life. Until then, I will keep waiting for the answers, the magic, elusive elixir that is the cure for grief and mourning. There have been plenty of little epiphanies that have kept me going and each has elevated me out of despair. I tell myself, it’s just a matter of time before another ‘ah-ha’ propels me along this journey.

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Posted by: Ms. Daryl Wood | April 25, 2025

A Normal Day

When Doug and I met he was very impressed that I rose at the crack of dawn and walked for an hour almost every morning. That didn’t change and, in fact, became more inspiring for both of us when we moved to Tobermory. Walking the empty, quiet country roads the mornings all year round became my meditation and motivation. This morning I left home at 6:40 a.m. not realizing how chilly it was and that the wind was stronger than my reference said. I couldn’t resist the urge to get out on my bike and move in the early morning hours.

As I road my Ebike (and yes you still pedal and work your body) the 12 km trip to the downtown harbour I talked to Doug and told him how happy I felt this morning. I had a good night’s sleep and have been reading a very intriguing book called The Grieving Brain by Mary-Frances O’Connor. Along the route the Parks Canada Superintendent pulled up and we had a nice chat about the nature of things. Finally I reached the harbour and stood quietly beside Doug’s memorial bench thinking about how much he meant to so many people. It was a very cold and challenging ride home but now I have my warm lemon drink and I’m ready for the bits and pieces of my day.

This feels like a normal, typical day in someone’s life and actually, in my life. At least the life I knew before Doug’s passing and even further back to before his cancer upended our daily lives. So here I am wondering how I could start with such a normal day when the past few days I’ve been in deep mourning. Even though I have read and studied and worked hard at understanding grief it, still takes me by surprise when I descend into the darkness. Even other grievers don’t always ‘get’ how crushing this is. That’s where this new book is helping me so much. The more I accept that my way of dealing with losing the most important person in my life is unique to me, the less I will worry that I am stuck in a victim mindset.

And when I thought I was, I called on David Emerald in early January to get his take on where I was. David created The Empowerment Dynamic as an antidote to the Drama Triangle where the Victim holds court. Our conversation was so personal and comforting and I was deeply grateful to David. So when I learned that on April 16th, David suddenly and peacefully passed away, I was reminded of all the good he did and how much his lessons have and will always resonate with me.

Which brings me full circle back to this morning. David’s solution to the Victim is to be a Creator and he signed off every message with “To the Creator in you”. While I didn’t consciously think about it this morning, I was taking charge of my life and doing what would move me forward. It felt so good that now I’m going to take myself out for breakfast. Here’s to the Creator in me and you and everyone.

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