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<blockquote data-quote="Scent of Cedar *" data-source="post: 650320" data-attributes="member: 17461"><p>I am glad you had work to go to. </p><p></p><p>There have been times when creating and incorporating those other facets of self ~ the professional self, or the volunteer self, or the martial arts self or the yoga self or the ballet self or the student self (I completed the requirements for my degree at one point through all these years, cum laude) ~ is what enabled me to come back into balance around my grieving, destroyed and depressed core self.</p><p></p><p>There are just too many days, over the long time when our kids are messing up and every day is something worse, for us to incorporate all that loss and sadness.</p><p></p><p>Since the kids aren't going to change? We have to make our lives bigger.</p><p></p><p>Works for me.</p><p></p><p>Healing from what happened with difficult child daughter found me committing to Hospice refresher classes, forcing myself to confront my fear of driving over bridges, volunteering at an art gallery (where I now work), and committing to yoga (which I am well accomplished at, now) and Tai Chi (which I am accomplished enough at by now that I am helping teach it).</p><p></p><p>In perhaps two years more, I will feel I know it well enough to teach it on my own.</p><p></p><p>When it was difficult child son I was grieving? I took the first belt in karate. If we had not begun moving back and forth between north and south with the changing seasons, I would hold a black belt in that style, now.</p><p></p><p>One year, and I don't remember which child it was in trouble then, we re-landscaped the yard. D H would go to this place where he would get huge rocks ~ heavy rocks, rocks that would test strength and patience and commitment. And he would load the truck and bring them home and get them all down the hill. I would take it from there. We worked like fools for those years ~ but the rocks look like a river bed, and the yard is filled with cedars and everything there is beautiful.</p><p></p><p>So, whatever it was that time, that is how we got through that.</p><p></p><p>I would work in the yard from morning until it got dark. There are beautiful flowers everywhere, now.</p><p></p><p>Lots of drain tile.</p><p></p><p>It was hard, dirty work ~ hard enough to oxygenate that dark center where grief and pain and confusion lived, trying to strangle the life out of us.</p><p></p><p>Cedar</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Scent of Cedar *, post: 650320, member: 17461"] I am glad you had work to go to. There have been times when creating and incorporating those other facets of self ~ the professional self, or the volunteer self, or the martial arts self or the yoga self or the ballet self or the student self (I completed the requirements for my degree at one point through all these years, cum laude) ~ is what enabled me to come back into balance around my grieving, destroyed and depressed core self. There are just too many days, over the long time when our kids are messing up and every day is something worse, for us to incorporate all that loss and sadness. Since the kids aren't going to change? We have to make our lives bigger. Works for me. Healing from what happened with difficult child daughter found me committing to Hospice refresher classes, forcing myself to confront my fear of driving over bridges, volunteering at an art gallery (where I now work), and committing to yoga (which I am well accomplished at, now) and Tai Chi (which I am accomplished enough at by now that I am helping teach it). In perhaps two years more, I will feel I know it well enough to teach it on my own. When it was difficult child son I was grieving? I took the first belt in karate. If we had not begun moving back and forth between north and south with the changing seasons, I would hold a black belt in that style, now. One year, and I don't remember which child it was in trouble then, we re-landscaped the yard. D H would go to this place where he would get huge rocks ~ heavy rocks, rocks that would test strength and patience and commitment. And he would load the truck and bring them home and get them all down the hill. I would take it from there. We worked like fools for those years ~ but the rocks look like a river bed, and the yard is filled with cedars and everything there is beautiful. So, whatever it was that time, that is how we got through that. I would work in the yard from morning until it got dark. There are beautiful flowers everywhere, now. Lots of drain tile. It was hard, dirty work ~ hard enough to oxygenate that dark center where grief and pain and confusion lived, trying to strangle the life out of us. Cedar [/QUOTE]
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