As I write this message today, the sun is shining brightly, my windows are open, and the sounds of spring are all around me.

My favorite tree in my backyard is in full bloom and the birds almost seem to be smiling as they dance their way around the lawn in the morning.

There is a hopefulness that seems to be filling the air right now.

But just because nature is coming alive all around us and each day brings more flowery blossoms everywhere we look, it doesn't mean that we all are feeling that same rebirth or rejuvenation.

The harsh reality is that so many of us are suffering right now.

If you look beyond the flowers and sunshine and song birds, you can see it on the faces of some of the people around you.

There is something extra hard about grief and pain and suffering when the outside world is marching forward towards brightness and hope.

If you are someone right now who can't yet feel the hopefulness of spring, hear me when I say that it is ok.

It is ok to feel your feelings. It is ok to let yourself grieve. It is ok to not be ready to enjoy spring.

But don't suffer in silence. Be brave and reach out to a friend. Share with them how you are feeling and maybe even ask them to come and sit with you.

Wherever you are in your season of life is ok right now - even if you are in winter when the world around you is in spring. No winter ever lasts forever. Your spring will come eventually.

Until then, keep holding on. 

(View this post on the Changing Perspectives Facebook Page)

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If you are grieving, Confessions from the Couch: Finding Hope and Resilience in Grief - A Grief Journal and Guide After Loss, is the resource you need. This 116 page, full-color grief guide and journal will help you find hope and resilience in your grief journey. Get your copy today: BUY NOW
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​Sometimes when I walk into a patient's room I can feel their emotion before they say a word.

This morning was one of those times. The grief hung thick in the air and was visible on my patient's face as soon as I entered her room. As if she had a shameful secret that she had been saving for my ears only, she quickly shared with me recurring feelings of guilt and sadness about her daughter, husband and brother - all deceased. Her usual cheerful, bright mood had been replaced this week with irritability, restlessness and a great deal of self-doubt. Casting her eyes down at her hands and sighing loudly she said,

"Something's wrong with me. I looked down at my hand at Bingo last week, saw my ring and started crying about my husband. That's not normal. I'm not normal."

I'm willing to bet that, at some point or another, all of us have thought this very same thought: "I'm not normal."

You know the feeling, suddenly, out of nowhere, we are reminded of a loss in our lives. A rogue wave of grief, sadness, despair washes over us without warning and suddenly we are drowning in our sorrow. Again. It's as if the loss has happened again. Days, months, years may have passed since the loss but it feels brand new again.

Right behind this wave of grief comes another wave - a wave of embarrassment and shame. What do we often say when this happens in front of someone else? "I'm sorry." ​We place intense pressure on ourselves to keep our feelings inside and to manage the grieving process in a neat, tidy, orderly and proper manner. It's easy to see where this pressure comes from; just look at what happens when we suffer a loss. Most employers provide their employees with a mere 3 days of bereavement leave after the loss of an immediate relative. 3 days. 3 days? 3 days!! After those 3 days the message begins to creep in from a number of areas that it's time to pull yourself together, stop crying and move on.

Guess what? That message is wrong.

Grief doesn't go away. The wave doesn't crest, crash on the shore and disappear. It stays with us. Forever. The hole in our heart never goes away. It never heals. There is no closure. Grief is forever. When we lose someone, that loss stays with us. It changes us. It's always there, just beneath the surface. It doesn't mean it breaks us or ruins us or takes away all hope. It just becomes a part of us and it is certainly not a part of us that should bring us shame. So, sometimes, when we look down at our hand and catch sight of our deceased husband's wedding ring on our finger, we grieve all over again. Nothing is wrong with us. We are normal.

Imagine what would happen if we stopped feeling embarrassed about our grief, stopped apologizing, stopped trying to control and contain it and just acknowledged it honestly and supported each other unconditionally. What if instead of saying, "something's wrong with me" or "I'm not normal" we said "This is grief and it's ok to show it. I'm just like everyone else."

Wouldn't that feel better?

​(Originally published as my very first blog article from June 2016. View this post on Facebook)

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If you are grieving, Confessions from the Couch: Finding Hope and Resilience in Grief - A Grief Journal and Guide After Loss, is the resource you need. This 116 page, full-color grief guide and journal will help you find hope and resilience in your grief journey. Get your copy today: BUY NOW

​Sometimes when I walk into a patient's room I can feel their emotion before they say a word. This morning was one of those times. The grief hung thick in the air and was visible on my patient's face as soon as I entered her room. As if she had a shameful secret that she had been saving for my ears only, she quickly shared with me recurring feelings of guilt and sadness about her daughter, husband and brother - all deceased. Her usual cheerful, bright mood had been replaced this week with irritability, restlessness and a great deal of self-doubt. Casting her eyes down at her hands and sighing loudly she said, "Something's wrong with me. I looked down at my hand at Bingo last week, saw my ring and started crying about my husband. That's not normal. I'm not normal."

I'm willing to bet that, at some point or another, all of us have thought this very same thought: "I'm not normal." You know the feeling, suddenly, out of nowhere, we are reminded of a loss in our lives.  A rogue wave of grief, sadness, despair washes over us without warning and suddenly we are drowning in our sorrow. Again. It's as if the loss has happened again. Days, months, years may have passed since the loss but it feels brand new again. 

Right behind this wave of grief comes another wave - a wave of embarrassment and shame. What do we often say when this happens in front of someone else? "I'm sorry." ​We place intense pressure on ourselves to keep our feelings inside and to manage the grieving process in a neat, tidy, orderly and proper manner. It's easy to see where this pressure comes from; just look at what happens when we suffer a loss. Most employers provide their employees with a mere 3 days of bereavement leave after the loss of an immediate relative. 3 days. 3 days? 3 days!! After those 3 days the message begins to creep in from a number of areas that it's time to pull yourself together, stop crying and move on. Guess what? That message is wrong.

Grief doesn't go away. The wave doesn't crest, crash on the shore and disappear. It stays with us. Forever. The hole in our heart never goes away. It never heals. There is no closure. Grief is forever. When we lose someone, that loss stays with us. It changes us. It's always there, just beneath the surface. It doesn't mean it breaks us or ruins us or takes away all hope. It just becomes a part of us and it is certainly not a part of us that should bring us shame. So, sometimes, when we look down at our hand and catch sight of our deceased husband's wedding ring on our finger, we grieve all over again. Nothing is wrong with us. We are normal.

Imagine what would happen if we stopped feeling embarrassed about our grief, stopped apologizing, stopped trying to control and contain it and just acknowledged it honestly and supported each other unconditionally.  What if instead of saying, "something's wrong with me" or "I'm not normal" we said "This is grief and it's ok to show it. I'm just like everyone else."

Wouldn't that feel better?