Getting Outside of Your Head

I had a pity party this week. A work meeting went sideways, demands of a new program, an extra project thrown into an already packed day had me driving in my car cussing at how unfair life was. As I pulled into the parking lot, I received a text from my sister.  “Hey sis, which one do you like best?” And four pictures followed.  Each, a different urn. I realized she was at the funeral home, arranging for her husband’s death. I started to cry.

In life, and very common for grief warriors, we tend to focus on what we don’t have, what we have that we hate and what we want that seems elusive. This thought pattern stunts our ability to see anything else; the good, the bad and the ugly of other things happening around us. I am not critical of this.  The truth is we have been given the short straw and there takes an energy to care for others that we might not have.

One of the ways to deal with grief, we are told, is to volunteer.  To get outside of our own head and thoughts by helping others.  Research shows that volunteering increases empathy, distracts your grief and makes one feel good. I know, it’s what I sell in my job, the positive impact of volunteering. I also know, that living with grief, this desire is difficult, if not, sometimes, impossible. 

How do we show up for others when the day-to-day tasks of work and life make it impossible to show up even for ourselves? I wonder if we started with those close to us.  I wonder if we could muster the energy to reach out to a relative or friend or neighbor. A text asking how they are, or a loaf of bread dropped off with a note saying, “I’m thinking of you”. These small acts can be planned around our energy. They take not a lot of effort or commitment to ‘get outside’ of yourself and yet they connect us, and we feel good that we have noticed those we love.  We feel good.  In thinking of others, we also help ourselves.

Living in my own mess, the fact that my sister is living with anticipated grief, took a back seat to the mundane trials that will not be important nor remembered years from now.  What will be remembered is me showing up for her pain. I must plan for this. What energy we have is dictated by a lot of factors, how we use it is our choice.

And with that aha moment, alone in my car, I replied to her.  “I like the 3^rd one.”  I finished my day and went home to make a pot of comforting chili to which I dropped off to her door the next day.