Working out your grief quite literally–by running, swimming, walking, or kick-boxing–is going to give you immediate relief. On the “feels peachy” list might be found such ventures as: deleting all of his e-mails and voicemails, pawning off the jewelry he gave you (using the cash for a much-needed massage?), laughing over coffee with a new friend who doesn’t know him from Adam (to ensure his name won’t come up). You won’t really know which activity belongs on which list until you start trying things, but I suspect that things like checking out his wall on Facebook and seeing that he has just posted a photo of his gorgeous new girlfriend is not going to make you feel good, so put that on the “don’t attempt” list, along with e-mails and phone calls to his buddies fishing for information about him. You need to know which activities will make you feel good, and which ones will make you want to toilet paper your ex-lover’s home (or apartment). So go grab a box of Kleenex and cry your afternoon away. Among their findings is that emotional tears (as compared to tears of irritation, like when you cut an onion) contain toxic biochemical byproducts, so that weeping removes these toxic substances and relieves emotional stress. Some of them have been documented by biochemist William Frey who has spent 15 years as head of a research team studying tears. You think it’s just a coincidence that you always feel better after a good cry? Nope, there are many physiological reasons that contribute to the healing power of tears. Laughter heals on many levels as I explain in my “9 Ways Humor Heals” post, and so does crying. And let’s face it, that, on some days, feels like a miracle. When you turn your attention to another person–especially someone who is struggling with the same kind of pain–you forget about yourself for a split moment. That’s why writing Beyond Bluecontributes a big chunk to my recovery, why moderating Group Beyond Blue has me excited to wake up every day. When I’m in pain, the only guaranteed antidote to my suffering is to box up all of my feelings, sort them, and then try to find a use for them. If you are trying to banish a sexual fantasy from your head, telling yourself “I’m not going to fantasize about her” or “I won’t think about what it would be like to be intimate with him” might make it worse: In a famous psychological study from the 1980s, a group of subjects were told to think about anything but whatever they did, they were not supposed to think about a white bear. Christine Whelan, who writes the “Pure Sex, Pure Column” on, explains the logic of allowing a bit of fantasy. Grief wouldn’t be the natural process that it should be without some yearning for the person you just lost.
If you can’t list your strengths, start a self-esteem file.
#Broken heart bordello old man questions plus
Plus you haven’t smoked a cigarette since that funeral back in December of last year!” I say all of that while listening to the Rocky soundtrack, and by the last line, I’m ready to tackle my next challenge: move on from this sadness and try to be a productive individual in this world. I say to myself, “Self, you have been sober for 20 years!! Weaklings can’t pull off that! And here you are, alive, after those 18 months of intense suicidal thoughts. “Great Monk, let me ask you: How can I attain liberation?” The Great Monk replied: “Who tied you up?” This old gardener answered: “Nobody tied me up.” The Great Monk said: “Then why do you seek liberation?”Īs I wrote in my “12 Ways to Keep Going” post, a technique that helps me when I feel raw and defeated to try anymore is to list my strengths. It is my job to fill the emptiness, and I can do it … creatively, and with the help of my higher power.
But I have learned over and over again that I can. When I’m experiencing the intense pangs of grief, it is so difficult to trust that I can be whole without that person in my life. That job is all my own, with a little help from God. One of the most liberating thoughts I repeat to myself when I’m immersed in grief and sadness is this: I don’t need anyone or anything to make me happy. Soon the pain lost its stronghold over me. By going through the intense pain, I eventually surfaced as a stronger person ready to tackle problems head on.
Not around it.” Because if I went around some of the issues that were tearing me apart inside, then I would bump into them somewhere down the line, just like being caught in the center of a traffic circle. During the 18 months of my severe depression, my therapist repeated almost every visit: “Go through it. Here’s a simple fact: You have to grieve in order to move on. Because no shortcut is without its share of obstructions. I realize the most difficult task for a person with a broken heart is to stand still and feel the crack.