Posted by: Ms. Daryl Wood | January 10, 2025

When We Know

“Sometimes I think we are all tightrope walkers suspended on a wire two thousand feet in the air, and so long as we never look down we’re okay, but some of us lose momentum and look down for a second and are never quite the same again: we know.” Dorothy Gillman

Over and over again in my life I have been one of those people who look down. Sometimes for a second and sometimes longer. Each time, I catch my breath and a little ‘oh no’ pops into my mind. Oh no because as Dorothy says, now I know. I know that something, someone, somehow the world as I know it is different. And different can be unsettling.

Sometimes what I see is my own reflection and I don’t always like it. Sometimes it is so stark that I can’t bear to accept the reality of my own choices. Sometimes the illusion I live with that things are a certain way is suddenly and unceremoniously broken into pieces and I wonder how I could have not noticed before. Had I been sleepwalking through life and missed the signs of kindness, generosity, humanity and goodness? Had I been so drawn, like a moth to a flame, that I saw fear and anxiety and worry everywhere I looked?

In a casual remark a friend mentions something soothing and beautiful and I am struck at how startled back to the present moment I am moved. Where was I? What was so distracting that I almost missed how warm the sun was, how bright green the moss on rocks, how quiet the lake without any wind and how incredibly kind the dozens of people have been in this past year.

I am grateful. I am filled with gratitude for all the blessings in my life. I do express my appreciation. But looking down I see something more. I see how I have struggled to accept all these expressions of love because they land in a place within me that has fought for love my whole life. And this always makes me feel inadequate to ever thank or repay the compassion, empathy and consideration I have received. The one place I never doubted was with Doug. Without him I am searching for a feeling of love and belonging that is elusive. Then I ‘look down’ and right in front of me, along the country road I love, at the grocery store, in the text messages from distant companions and the calls from family, I am reminded that I am still loved.

In the rush to live a meaningful life, to do the right things, to get ahead, stay afloat, to ‘make it’ we are all at risk of missing something essential to our inner wellbeing. So don’t be afraid to ‘look down’ and see what precious gifts have always been there waiting for you to welcome them home.

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Posted by: Ms. Daryl Wood | January 8, 2025

Self Compassion vs I Should Know Better

These past few weeks I have written until my hand aches. I’m compelled to get my thoughts into my journal and let my feelings and my story be settled somewhere. When they churn up inside of me I start to pace and eat and go from task to task trying to quiet my mind. Finally I give in and let the emotions race to be written down – sometimes in a scribbled, illegible scattering of words and sometimes in neat rows of cursive.

What I write is often repetitious of the past year. Sorrow. Longing. Confusion. Desperation. Aching Loneliness. And then there is also Gratitude, Joy, Awareness, Love and Peace.

I wanted to write something brilliant here and talk about how I turned weeks of of big disappointments into opportunities, but I’m barely there. When I started this post I was still recovering from the sadness of having to cancel happy celebrations due to winter weather. I’m still working through the growth and learning that inevitably comes from unwanted challenges. I’d like to say I’m doing what I’ve told hundreds of people in my women’s retreats and corporate workshops to do, but I’m not fully there yet.

I taught The Empowerment Dynamic. I know how to shift out of the Drama Triangle so I’m not stuck in Victim, Persecutor, Rescuer roles. I’ve heard myself say so many times “I get that you don’t like this but given that it’s your current reality how will you be with this?” And what my clients and I looked for was ways to feel grounded, peaceful, grateful, hopeful. We looked for that small baby step, that 1% difference we could make to move ourselves towards a more empowered way of being, of feeling.

And I tried. I asked for help … from a lot of people … and I tried hard. Sometimes I could feel the shift and the relief it brought. Sometimes I sobbed uncontrollably while I shovelled snow and missed my beloved Doug in his big coveralls following the snowblower around the parking lot. The worst for me was that I persecuted myself for being weak and not getting my act together. It sounded like a familiar rant “I should know how to do this. I should try harder. I should use all my tools. I should think of others and not myself. I should stop complaining. I should smarten up. I should stop bothering other people.” And on and on and on it goes. My clients know I am the loudest when I say ‘don’t should on yourself’. Should and shame are partners in crime. And so without being intentional, I shamed myself for not being grateful enough when other people were clearly suffering more. It was so hard to push back on these debilitating messages coming from a part of me that was so afraid of being wrong.

And then one day a phone call brought me back to my wise inner self. A revered colleague reminded me that self-compassion is important for all of us to manage the ebbs and flows of life. And for those of us mourning the loss of a once in a lifetime love, it is essential for our very survival.

I remembered something someone had given me months ago and rediscovered a wealth of learning. Dr. Kristen Neff is a leader in the world of Self-Compassion. Her videos and articles are inspiring and informative. They are the essence of an outstretched hand offering warmth and kindness when old patterns of thinking hijack what is surely meant to be a peaceful heart.

So each day I commit to at least one act of self-compassion to ease myself into what I hope will become a habit. At least once when the “I should” comes up I want to counter it with love. In the middle of the jagged edges of mourning there is the possibility that I will get back on my feet, however wobbly they have become, and embrace self-compassion to guide the rest of my days.

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Posted by: Ms. Daryl Wood | January 6, 2025

Looking For A Trophy

My friends are ‘congratulating’ me and remarking on how ‘strong’ I am for getting through these past two months. I didn’t feel strong. Thinking about strong was pushing my limits in business settings, being vulnerable when leading women’s retreats, admitting mistakes, and taking hits when unfairly accused. I could see my strengths in that.

I’ve been told over and over again how strong I was for the six years that Doug endured his cancer treatments and especially the last two months of insane intensity. I didn’t think I was being strong. I was doing the ‘right’ thing. I was following my heart and living with as much integrity as I could. I was showing up, following through, staying alert, loving him no matter what.

The past year I kept going doing what I felt I needed to do, sometimes blindly handling things, selling our Sarnia ‘cottage’, his car, his ATV, his tractor. It was month after month of donating stuff, asking for help, waiting for relief, collecting joy and memories wherever I could. People said I was so strong but I didn’t think I was being strong. I was doing what I could to keep honouring his precious life and all those who helped him live long and happy. I was trying to find shape and meaning in a wilderness I had never encountered and had no map to follow. I was waiting for the miracle that would relieve my suffering.

I got through the anniversary in November with the love and support of his daughter and son-in-law and shared stories of his impact. I didn’t think I was strong. I thought I was being real.

And then December arrived and the bottom fell out of my plans. My friend calls it my ‘disaster trifecta’. Weather forced changes that left me all alone on my 70th birthday, Christmas Eve and New Years Eve. The special things arranged with friends evaporated as storms threatened bad travel for me and others. And while I could have joined kind neighbours I felt like a sorrowful intruder and couldn’t find the emotional energy to smile and engage. None of them would have turned me away but I was shrouded in disappointment. That’s what grief can do to you, hijack your mind into a dark corner where you can’t find the doorway out or if you do, it’s locked.

And now everyone is saying ‘look how strong you are for getting through that.’ I’m careful who I tell because I don’t want to be called strong. (What irony as I’m posting this online) There is no trophy, no celebration, no high fiving, no winners cup for being strong in grief. Doug is not here to carve out a sign like the one he made for my office when I finished Coach training. He is not here with a bouquet of flowers and a card with his neat little printing. And there will be no toasts, parties, laughter and medals.

All that’s left is a reminder that I am still here, that I did actually survive something I would not have thought I would. One of my grief mentors tells me that if I can get through that, I can get through anything. There’s not much comfort in knowing I have the tools to handle more hard things. I remember my doctor telling me that my being so open and vulnerable was showing people how to grieve. I didn’t want that job and I don’t want this one.

There is a quiet voice in me remembering how Doug faced the worst experiences of his life and did it with so much strength and courage. He could never understand how he was an inspiration to others but we all knew he was and told him often. And he did it without publicly complaining. That made it so much more awe inspiring. I am not made up of the same stuff as Doug but I do know that many people have done things this past year because they saw me rise up over and over again in the face of my worst nightmare.

So maybe even though I don’t feel like I’m being strong, others see it that way and use my example to live their own lives more fully and authentically. I’ve used Doug’s example and a long list of people who fought through insurmountable challenges this year as my examples. Maybe if we all keep doing our best, in the end we are doing what Ram Dass says “we are all just walking each other home.”

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Posted by: Ms. Daryl Wood | January 1, 2025

A New Year of Possibilities

By Donna Ashworth

On the stroke of midnight tonight, you can resolve to be better, if you like…
to be fitter,
to eat cleaner,
to work harder.
On the stroke of midnight tonight,
you can resolve to become a whole new you,
if you so choose.
Or, you can take a moment to acknowledge, all you already are.
Because it’s a lot.
You’re a lot.
And you deserve to be commended.
On the stroke of midnight tonight, perhaps you could congratulate yourself, for coping.
For breaking, again,
and for rebuilding, again.
For catching the stones life has thrown at you,
and using them to build your castle that little bit stronger.
You have endured, my friend.
And I don’t see the need to resolve to become a whole new you,
when you are already so very much indeed.
Happy new year.
You made it.
Now let us face another 365 day-turn, arms wide,
accepting, embracing and ‘seeing’ each other,
for all we are.

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

Be The One

Today, if only for today, be the one who shows love and kindness and compassion and empathy and generosity and acceptance to everyone you meet, to everyone you think about. Be the one who shows up, no matter what, with a heart willing to be with others no matter what they bring to the table. And be the one who lifts your own heart and mind to a place of sacred expressions of all that is good in our world. Today, be the one. As best you can for as long as you can without judgement or conditions. Be the one. Namaste.

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Posted by: Ms. Daryl Wood | December 19, 2024

Mourning Is Not Drama

Sometimes we know more than what is good for us. I have studied and taught TED* (The Empowerment Dynamic) for more than a decade. It’s the antidote to The Drama Triangle and I’ve talked about how I’ve tried to integrate what I know into my experience of grief. I’m on it for a bit and it all makes sense until it doesn’t. Then I start asking my peers to see if I’m missing something. That’s why I had one call with a fellow practitioner and then one with David Emerald, the founder of TED*. I just needed to really get clear on where I was sitting with the state of Victimhood. Was I stuck in it? Was I missing an exit out of feeling victimized? Were my actions screaming Victim when I showed up with whatever I was feeling? Was there possibly a check list I could go through to assess my status? Lots of questions.

The reassurances were heartfelt and authentic. I asked for blunt observations and was given the nod that I was feeling the effects of being victimized (a term used here to reflect the painful loss of my beloved Doug) but that I wasn’t using it as an excuse to forfeit being my usual loving, compassionate self. I may temporarily be unable to access that part of me but it was still there, still solidly in place patiently waiting for me to continue the slow recovery to wherever I will ultimately land in this new world.

Suddenly, this became the obvious correlation with a powerful little book by Alan Wolfelt, the founder of The Centre For Loss. He has written many books and after reading “The Wilderness of Grief” I gratefully landed on “Understanding Your Grief.” Here, in easy to read, kind passages was the message that was now being confirmed for me. I’m mourning. It’s all natural and normal.

Dr. Wolfelt explains that grief is what we feel and mourning is how we express it. Everyone who has ever attended one of my talks, workshops, trainings or just had coaching with me knows that I am very transparent. As much as possible and respectful I tell the truth and leave my thoughts and feelings on the table for anyone to see. As I mourn, some people are repelled by this kind of raw emotion. Others are judgemental and cast a wary eye at my openness. And then there are the people who take a deep breath and hold the space for me to literally pour out my heart until the pain eases. I’ve come to realize how precious these people are and how much I want to learn to be one of them because grief and mourning will take over every person’s life someday if it hasn’t already. I know I didn’t have a clue how heart wrenching some losses can be. We are all going to need a companion willing to wait out the rounds of aching loss so we can return to laughter and joy and silliness and celebration. And that’s the reward for the people who have found a way to hold their breath through my despair. They get to share stories that make us laugh out loud and embrace the life we are all still living.

Reading the chapter on “You’re Not Crazy” helped me see that so many things I have and am experiencing are signs of mourning and not to be misunderstood. I can’t always remember things or I repeat myself or I break down in the produce aisle or I change my mind a dozen times. It’s not drama. I’m not crazy. I’m mourning.

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Posted by: Ms. Daryl Wood | November 29, 2024

I’m Normal

There are lots of opinions about grieving and what it could, would or should look like. The loudest and most common message is that everyone grieves differently. I get that. Still, I have found myself one year and 17 days in wondering if the deep despair that envelopes me now and then is okay. I wonder because I feel some resistance from some of the people who have been trudging along this bumpy road with me. And I feel it from other people who randomly check in after many months and are somewhat surprised that I still have what Alan Wolfelt calls ‘grief bursts. And then of course I have wondered myself because in my state of uncertainty and memory lapses I can only remember a very few people in my life who seemed to be still struggling many months after a loss. Now I know that I didn’t see what was probably right in front of me.

Yesterday I went for a walk in what turned out to be a light snow storm. It was lovely and fresh. While I blinked away a few tears thinking how Doug would have laughed at what seemed like a misadventure I also blinked away the feeling that somehow I was not normal. It suddenly (which is an odd term for something that brews for a long time and finally surfaces) became quite obvious that I am normal.

It’s normal that I would be happy after my long meeting with my financial advisor this morning to clarify how I will proceed to keep myself secure in the years ahead. It’s normal that I would release a deep sob as Doug’s much loved John Deere tractor was loaded onto a flatbed and be driven away to it’s new home. It’s normal that I would laugh out loud with a neighbour over a silly anecdote that we shared. It’s normal that I would cry when friends left for the winter knowing I wouldn’t see these special people for at least four months. It’s normal that I smiled at words in my crossword book and cried loading up the wood bin. I am living life and that’s what life looks like when you are grieving. Or not.

We all have ups and downs every day but we often just give them a passing glance or handle them with a measured response. When you are grieving/mourning a deep love lost the downs can look like tears and whimpers of despair or even painful keening. Thankfully, they don’t last. I thought they would and still wonder when they consume me if this will be the time I fall too far into the darkness to ever recover. But I do recover because this is normal. It’s normal to laugh and joke and make personalized Christmas cards and bake cookies and walk in snowstorms. It’s also normal to sob into a pillow or call a friend to empty the raw emotions that need a place to land when it feels too much to carry alone.

So today I celebrate a new mindset hoping it will help me through the inevitable pitfalls that lie ahead. Grief is normal. Mourning is normal. I am normal.

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Posted by: Ms. Daryl Wood | November 27, 2024

Spoons and Forks and Knives

The cutlery drawer is not usually a trigger point for me but this morning as I emptied the dishwasher and began putting spoons and forks and knives away I was overcome with sadness that these were our utensils. These were the items we used every day for meals. These represented the hundreds of dinners we shared with friends and family over two decades. These were the things that became symbols of early grief when you couldn’t eat anymore. These are what I use now to feed myself in the disordered way I’ve been eating since the summer of 2018 when surgery robbed you of normal swallowing.

The challenge of mourning is that we don’t know what is going to ‘set us off’. I would not have thought that an innocuous cutlery drawer would start a cycle of tears that I’ve been trying to resist all morning. Writing about it helps. It lets the grief drip out of my body and mind for a brief period. It lets others know how hard it is for mourners to function well in a world that has mine fields hidden in something as simple as a kitchen drawer.

And it reminds me of the love we shared over your favourite spaghetti dinners, turkey feasts at holidays, neighbourhood gatherings, Farkle parties, fish frys on the shoreline and so many meals that you famously declared were ‘the best ever.’ When I sit at our table, as I rarely do, I can feel the joy of you digging in to yummy dishes and the pain of you sipping coffee while I ate. Someday I will be able to focus only on the happy celebrations we had with the cutlery I am carefully stowing away. Today, my heart is reminded of the uphill battle that I and others who have experienced the loss of a much loved partner face over the simplest of daily acts.

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

Weaponizing My Learning

The big risk of writing about my grief experience is the self-criticism I inevitably endure because of what I think of myself and what I think other people are thinking of me. It makes no sense because the people who are supporting me deny they are judging my words and actions and behaviours. Yet, I am convinced that they turn their backs, roll their eyes and sigh deeply. I am increasingly accusing myself of playing a victim and not ‘getting over it’, not letting go of the grief. I taught this work and taught self-acceptance and resilience for so many years that the moment I slip into the darkness I am certain I have failed miserably at recovery and will never heal, only to sacrifice good relationships who I believe will tire of my sorrow. That’s the judgement I make when I fall headlong into another ‘griefburst’. And it happened today.

Listening to me on the phone with two friends (at separate times) and an appointment with my doctor and a quick exchange at the grocery store and short visit to drop things off at a friend’s, you would have thought I was on a roll. And I was. I had a clear message yesterday from spirit or Doug or within my own internal wisdom that I was moving along and seeing possibilities. It felt empowering. But as the last phone call ended I felt a bit uncomfortable so I took steps to physically shift my energy. I walked up the road to pick some red willow for a friend who forgot to take it home with her when she left her cottage. Since I’ll be staying with them for a couple of nights it was a good idea for me to bring some to her.

The first branch was easy. Then I stood on the deserted road and realized I was picking these so they could decorate their home to enjoy the Christmas season with their family and friends. It was the sudden pang of sadness that I was alone and there was no one to decorate my home for. Doug was gone. I would go away for at least a few days so why bother. No one would see if I put up any of our beautiful, special or meaningful decorations. And if I did it for myself (which a well meaning friend suggested) I would have more reminders of what I had lost. The picture of my current reality hit my heart so fast and furious I could only sob loudly as I tugged at a few more branches to get the needed number. As if losing Doug wasn’t enough, I was now victimizing myself with shame for not trying harder, being stronger, less needy.

It’s hard to understand why I would use what I know about victimization to cause myself more suffering. And then to write about it almost legitimizes the experience. I have to do what I’m compelled to do and that is to write, to tell the story from here for the many people who have not been here before. For the sake of those who have and who find themselves staring at really hard memories maybe someone will pause and feel more empathy and compassion. If you know someone grieving … and there are more of us than you can imagine … and especially if they live alone, reach out. Let them know you are thinking of them. And do it as often as you can without being intrusive. The random messages I get from family and friends are a lifeline on days like today when I make up a story (and it’s not true ) that I am alone in my suffering.

After decades of teaching, I am the student grasping at ways to get back on my feet. I do pretty well and people tell me often that they see a big difference. I do too. Most days. Not so much today.

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Posted by: Ms. Daryl Wood | November 18, 2024

The Insistent Invitation

Every now and then a book suspiciously pokes out from my library shelves and calls to me for attention. I believe in Divine Synchronicity so I usually pause and consider what might be trying to speak to me. Yesterday it was James Hollis’ book “Finding Meaning in The Second Half of Life”. The subtitle “How to Finally, Really Grow Up” was humorous when I bought the book but revealed a much deeper truth. I am having to grow up in this new world with no one to witness my daily life or give me support and feedback on the choices I am making. I can’t blame anyone else for poor decisions or credit anyone with my successes.

When I pulled the book down to take a look I noticed several post it stickers marking pages and paragraphs I especially appreciated. The first one caught my breath. I know I have shared this before and have read it many times to motivate myself to listen to my inner wisdom. As I begin this “New Year” of life without my beloved Doug I am not surprised that spirit nudged me towards this reading. I am offering here to anyone who might be wondering how to know what to do next in their life. Namaste.

“In the end we will only be transformed when we can recognize and accept the fact that there is a will within each of us, quite outside the range of conscious control, a will which knows what is right for us, which is repeatedly reporting to us via our bodies, emotions, and dreams, and is incessantly encouraging our healing and wholeness. We are all called to keep this appointment with the inner life, and many of us never do. Fortunately, this insistent invitation comes to us again and again.”

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