My grandma passed away over the weekend. I’ve lost two grandmas and my stepmom this year. Having lost my mom, stepdad, and grandpa in the last decade, sometimes it feels like the people I love are constantly dying.
I’ve found a way of reframing my perception of “constant loss” that helps me to transform my grief into an experience I can bear. I’ll share this approach, as well as a meditation to help you, in a moment. But first, let’s look at loss.
What happens when you lose someone you love?
Losing a loved one is a life-altering experience. If you’ve lost a loved one, you’re familiar with the visceral pain of grief.
The grieving process varies for each person. It may include feelings such as anger, abandonment, sadness, anxiety, and guilt. And for the empaths out there…well, you may absorb a mixed bag of emotions from grieving loved ones in addition to your own, leading to more confusion and overwhelm.
Grief certainly isn’t linear. Grief ebbs and flows like waves of the sea.
But when a painful flood of emotion comes, we may feel despair and powerlessness. Grief can feel traumatic to the body. You may have difficulty breathing. Tension may gather in the abdomen, chest, or throat. Your immune system may weaken.
The way we carry emotion can make it challenging to step out of intense sadness.
While it’s vital that we allow ourselves to feel the full spectrum of emotion, it also helps if we can find meaning from our experience.
When I find myself heading into an abysmal sadness, I reframe my loss.
Is it possible to feel gratitude for grief?
It may sound strange, but gratitude for grief is possible and transformative.
All of the losses I’ve experienced are reflective of the connections I’ve had in my life. These people I’ve loved and who have loved me have imparted many gifts for which I’m grateful.
Having worked in the child welfare system, I’ve known way too many children who literally have no one in their lives to lose other than a caseworker or therapist. Having no one to lose is a much more tragic in my opinion.
When I view loss in this way, my perspective begins to shift to gratitude for grief, which has a profound effect on my physical energy and mental health.
Gratitude is a practice that can transform our beliefs, thoughts, and behaviors if we spend some time giving thanks from the heart.
I’ve recorded a guided gratitude for grief meditation for you based on the Buddhist “metta” lovingkindness meditation. The lovingkindness meditation invites the feeling of compassion. In this meditation, I’ve replaced compassion with gratitude.
“You must plan to be spontaneous.” – David Hockney
A couple years ago, I attended a workshop taught by James Boag, who teaches applied yoga philosophy. He mentioned the above quote and it’s been with me ever since. Yet, I began to understand it at a deeper level while walking on the Camino de Santiago.
I’ll explain what I learned on the Camino, but first, let’s take a look at preparation and spontaneity.
If you’re a planner, you might be drawn to having an element of control and certainty in your life. But you may also know the limitations of trying to prepare and account for every detail of a life trajectory, event, and so forth. Plans often go awry and require improvisation and adjustment.
If you’re a fly by the seat of your pants kind of person, you might avoid planning. You might take risks simply trusting that things will work out. After all, you want an opportunity to change your mind and join the adventure of life.
And then maybe you’re a bit of both like me. You see, I’m a planner. I like my life to be organized and I prefer to know what’s coming on my calendar. Anyone who has known me as a colleague or partner would attest to this. At the same time, spontaneity fills me with a sense of adventure and I like the freedom I feel when I’m spontaneous.
The thing is, I haven’t always integrated these two parts of me into the balance I think is necessary.
What I Learned About Spontaneity on the Camino de Santiago
Many people take a year to prepare to hike a journey like this. It requires some diligent planning with respect to logistics, packing lists…and physical preparedness.
I booked my ticket just two months before my departure. And while I spent some time on logistics and loads of time packing, I did not give adequate attention to my body.
My weekend hikes did little to prepare me since the Midwest is mostly flat. Yoga and occasional biking may have done something. But I failed to engage in regular weight-bearing exercises, as well as see a doctor before leaving (the knee issue was not new).
Instead, I remembered my 29-year old body hiking a five-day trek in Colombia with challenging inclines and long days. I remembered my 27-year old body hiking straight up volcanoes for hours in Guatemala. I conveniently avoided thinking about my 33-year old knee that cried out in pain two years ago while hiking through a canyon in Utah with a heavy pack. I really assumed that if I had some initial pain on the Camino, my body would adapt eventually. And I was wrong.
But here’s the thing. What I came out of that experience realizing was not just I need to prepare extensively just before a trek like that, but that I need to prepare all year round. That is, if I want to be spontaneous when I’m called to adventure, I have to already be prepared in my body. This means I start now–well, as soon as I get medical advice on my knee.
Thankfully, there’s a part of me that was very prepared during my Camino…
The Deeper Reason We Must Balance Spontaneity and Planning
It’s become increasingly apparent to me that the balance between preparation and spontaneity is vital to living a healthy, full life. And I’ll tell you why.
There’s the obvious reason that too much impulsivity can be destructive, like in the example of the Camino. And rigidity can be too. Trust me, if I were married to my plans going exactly as hoped for every retreat I lead, I’d be a mess.
But I do see preparation as something we must do physically, mentally, and emotionally every step of our lives so that when our plans for life go off course, we can adapt without overwhelm and debilitating anxiety.
I think back to the months leading up to my stepmom’s passing earlier this year. My dad would often talk about how he was preparing for an emotional marathon by way of his workouts and seeking support from loved ones. This was his way of planning to survive the loss.
I, too, have undertaken a lifetime of mental preparation for various challenges to come in my life.
My mental strength was not enough to get me through the Camino physically. It got me through the pain for a while all right, but it couldn’t overpower the cry from my body telling me to stop. In this sense, my mind was more than I could ever have asked for in helping me arrive at the decision to stop my Camino. Trust me, that was one of the largest challenges.
If I can recommend one piece of advice for preparing for spontaneity it is to take time for self-care. That is, take time to get to know yourself–your emotions, your mental tendencies, your body. And then take time to nourish each of those areas of your life.
Scars. We all have scars and we all hide them. Today I’ll share with you one of my biggest insecurities, as well as some steps to embrace your scars.
I confess that my insecurity is rather superficial. As deep as some of my thinking may be, at times I get down on myself in a petty way.
We have visible and invisible scars that leave imprints on our lives. Yet, scars tend to have one thing in common: shame. Shame comes when we lack acceptance of our imperfections. We often see ourselves as flawed and unworthy…of love, success, belonging, happiness, etc. We struggle to see ourselves as whole. You don’t have to look far to see how prevalent lack of self-worth is in our society.
The Scar That Makes Me Self-Conscious
I have my share of emotional scars. But it’s the physical scars that make me feel insecure. I’ve dealt with acne for a whopping 23 years of my life. Its severity has waned at times, but it has always been a part of my life.
I love being my most natural self. I feel best when I’m barefoot and braless. I have two gray hairs that I adore. Feeling free of societal concepts of beauty is what makes me feel alive and feminine. But then there’s my concealer…
My concealer has been my crutch for years to cover up pimples and scarring. I’ve tried multiple elimination diets, dermatologists, medications, and natural remedies, but little changed.
And when people ask you what’s wrong with your skin–you tend to want to hide it. So that’s what I did. I used to get anxious and sometimes angry when a boyfriend would watch me put on makeup. I wouldn’t crash at a friend’s if I didn’t have my beloved concealer to go to brunch the next day. I envied the “perfect skin” people I’d meet.
For as long as I can remember, I’ve had this idea in my head of people saying, “Melissa would be pretty…if just her skin…” Do we all have these inner imaginary voices?
Removing My Mask on the Camino de Santiago
I wore a little concealer on the first day of the Camino. But the next day, I awoke with a sense of simplicity, so my concealer stayed buried deep in my backpack.
I encountered many pilgrims that evening at the albergue. No one commented on my skin. They all asked about my knees.
A couple of days later, when I sent a bag of belongings away to lighten my load, my concealer and a couple of other small makeup items went with it. I didn’t even think twice. I was ready to spend the next 10 days unmasked.
And I did. I got used to not thinking about my skin other than to wash it and apply sunscreen. I got so used to not wearing makeup that when I actually arrived in a larger city and went out to a restaurant with my fellow pilgrims, I didn’t even think about my scars. And you know what?
I’m not saying I’ll never wear makeup again. But I developed a sense of freedom and self-love in my process of allowing myself to be vulnerable and embracing my skin as it is.
There is great strength and empowerment in allowing our scars to show, whether physical or emotional.
How to Embrace Your Scars
Remember you’re not alone. Everyone has scars. If you’ve experienced past trauma, you’re not alone. If you have stretch marks, you’re not alone. If you’ve lost a breast, you’re not alone. When we realize this, we have an ability to choose to share our scars openly to encourage and support those around us.
Give up perfection. We need to let the unattainable illusions of magazines and Instagram go. I am seeing a trend toward more people sharing photos of cellulite and talking about their depression openly on social media, and I think this is the path. If you want to be perfect, be the real and authentic you. That is perfection.
Embrace your scars. So, in the case of a more profound scar like emotional abuse, that scar is part of your story, but it doesn’t define you. Rather, it’s an indicator of resilience and perhaps lessons learned. I look at my example of acne scarring and I believe it’s made me more compassionate toward others. I have a friend who has struggled with her self-image for years. Her insecurities are different than mine, but I realize we both have them and my scars help me to arrive at greater empathy.
Let your scars shine. When we stop concealing our perceived flaws, we give them less power and stop living in fear. A sense of freedom and love is invited into our bodies and minds. Our scars then can become a tool for sharing our vulnerability, and that vulnerability just might mean the world to someone else.
What scars are you hiding? How are you giving them power?
Today I’d like to share a few ways I see pain as one of my greatest teachers.
If you’re human, you’ve experienced pain… many kinds of pain. Loss of a loved one. A broken bone. A break-up. Discrimination. Chronic illness. Bullying. An absent parent.
Sensitive people can be particularly affected by pain. We’re more susceptible to stimulation, and we feel it on multiple levels.
That said, we also have a special skill in transforming pain into the fuel that makes our lives meaningful. I saw this within myself during my recent knee injury while hiking the Camino de Santiago. When pain struck, I used it to learn and make sense of my experience.
So what does pain teach us?
1. Pain teaches us resilience.
Sometimes it feels like it’s too much to bear. You may know that feeling intimately.
My knee pain was excruciating, but it paled in comparison to the sudden loss of my mother. Yet, the physical pain on my Camino reminded me of just how much we can endure, particularly if we have healthy coping skills at our disposal.
I met a German woman one day. In the few minutes we chatted, I learned she was carrying her husband’s ashes. He had hiked the Camino de Santiago annually since 2009 until his passing in 2016. This was powerful for me, as the thought of losing my partner is something that makes me anxious. Her sense of ease in carrying him with her made me realize just how strong we really are.
When we can sit with the challenges of our lives and incorporate it into our sense of strength and resilience, we become empowered beings that can handle almost anything.
2. Pain teaches us to listen.
It alerts us to a problem and urges us to listen.
It would have been wise to listen to my body sooner. But I was intent on finding a solution so I could keep walking. Meanwhile, I ignored the call from my body to take rest and made it worse.
Far too often we ignore the physical and emotional pain of our lives. We cope by working harder. We turn to alcohol and drugs as a temporary fix. We’re too good for our own good as we frantically help others while ignoring ourselves.
One of my yoga teachers, Morgan Lee, once said to listen to yellow lights to prevent injury. I’ll take this further and say that yellow lights come in many forms. Sometimes it’s a warning from your body. But maybe it’s a sign that you’re overloading your plate. Or maybe it’s a sign that it’s time to let go of that relationship that feels destructive or imbalanced.
3. Pain teaches us presence
On the Camino de Santiago, it’s very easy to get into “pilgrim mode” of walking quickly without taking time to talk to a local or notice the purple flower growing out of the ground. My injury forced me to pause and appreciate the beauty around me. And when I took the time to notice something other than myself, it helped me manage my pain.
Emotional pain is no different. When we power through or ignore it, we often miss an opportunity. If we allow ourselves to feel pain, then we can tap into a collective experience that all living beings share. When we are present with pain and notice how it shows up, we have an opportunity to reflect and transform it.
4. Pain teaches us gratitude
I caregive for a woman who had a stroke five years ago and spends her days sitting in a chair. She and her husband used to hike and travel all over the world. Now he goes alone.
While she has good days and bad days, she frequently talks about being thankful for her family and travel experiences. She’s thankful for the days when she’s not in as much pain. I thought of her a lot during my Camino.
I felt grateful for my ability to walk despite the pain. I felt grateful for the moment. I felt grateful for my breath, my eyes, and my ears. I felt grateful for the earth and trees, and all of the things that are more powerful than pain. I felt grateful for the small moments I photographed (see below).
Ultimately, that gratitude is what led me to stop my Camino. I thought of this woman and how her Camino shifted to an “inner camino” years ago.
That, my friends, is what the Camino de Santiago is all about for me. It was never about arriving, but about how we face ourselves and live as the highest expression of who we can be.
What have you learned from pain in your life? I’d love to hear from you if you feel inclined to share.
Last week, I returned from hiking the famous Camino de Santiago in Spain, but I never made it to Santiago.
Over the next few days, I’ll share with you what happened along with some Mindful Camino Lessons I learned along the way that just might resonate with you.
But let me first explain the Camino de Santiago and my purpose for hiking it.
The Camino de Santiago was traditionally a religious pilgrimage to the city of Santiago de Compostela, the alleged burial site of the apostle St. James. Camino pilgrims hike the many different Caminos for many different reasons.
The Camino I chose was the Camino Primitivo, which is off the beaten path with beautiful natural landscapes. It seemed to be the most introvert-friendly, and in theory, I could hike it in under two weeks. The Camino Primitivo also happens to be the most physically challenging Camino.
My purpose for hiking the Camino was to have introspective time in nature. I wanted to know how I’d feel hiking alone for a long period of time–how my mind and body would respond. I’ve traveled solo quite a bit over the years. Each time I do, I’m reminded of my own strength and resilience. I was at a place in my life where I was craving that reminder again.
I got that reminder and much more.
One thing I realized is sensitive folks like me have a knack for tuning into the silver lining of challenging experiences and making deep meaning out of them.
Despite the setbacks that caused me to terminate my Camino early, I learned a great deal in the short time I hiked this epic journey. I’d like to share those tidbits of wisdom with you this week.
Mindful Camino Lesson #1: Lighten your load (even more)
What are you carrying in your pack?
As an introspective person who faces anxiety, these are questions I ask myself regularly in my practice of self-care. But this inquiry was incessant during my recent trek of the Camino de Santiago.
The Camino forces you to examine the physical and emotional baggage you carry. I believe it’s one of the key lessons the Camino has to teach us.
For me, I get that less is more. I’ve lived out of the country for two years with everything I needed in a backpack. I value minimalism and I thought I was good at keeping my load light.
But there’s almost always something more we can unload. And we carry baggage in many forms, all of which I believe contributes to greater anxiety.
Starting to Let Go of Heavy Baggage
I carefully sorted through my backpack multiple times before my trip to pare down extra weight, as I knew I’d be hiking 20-30 kilometers per day. Yet, I was convinced each item was necessary.
On Day 1, a knee issue that has visited periodically over the last five years crept in on me. I found myself almost unable to walk at the end of the day. The struggle persisted over the next couple of days. And as I struggled, I realized I was bogged down by the weight of my pack.
As soon as I arrived in a town with a post office, I sent six pounds of belongings to some friends in Madrid. I also started carrying less water and food. My pack was lighter, but it wasn’t enough.
The pain continued. Many Camino pilgrims told me it was normal and my body would adjust. I wasn’t so sure. But I listened to them and continued experimenting to continue walking.
I tried sending my pack from one town to another so I could walk without carrying my baggage. I felt free and light at the start of this day, but eventually, the pain came back.
Why was I so set on continuing my trek and what else could I let go of at this point?
How Emotional Baggage Causes Us Pain
Before starting my Camino, I visited a friend in the south of Spain. One day we were talking about expectations of others. I said I felt that I let someone in my life down just before I left. He said, “Your pack might be light, but you arrived with baggage.”
My friend was right. He encouraged me to communicate with this person. I did… and to my surprise, this person responded in an understanding manner. A weight was lifted.
But was it?
One thing that became clear to me during my long walks was how much of my anxiety comes from the expectations of others, and probably more importantly, the expectations I put on myself with respect to others. And well, I could also add the expectations I have of others.
As an introvert, I often get overwhelmed with social obligations and family expectations. I hold high expectations for myself to be able to be a better yoga teacher. I judge myself for letting go of social work and not doing enough for social justice. The list goes on…
If I don’t check myself, I can easily get caught up in a cycle of needing to be all things to all people, including myself.
And well, these expectations showed up on the Camino. I was subconsciously carrying emotional weight and it was permeating my experience.
I expected a lot from my body. I expected it to be able to climb up and down mountains with little preparation, as it did ten years ago. I expected my mind to be able to handle the challenges and thought all this would require was mind over matter. I expected to be able to work through any discomfort. I expected the people around me to be right when they said my pain would go away after a few days.
I carried the weight of expectation in a range of forms during my Camino. I cried the day I let it go. And then, I realized that I felt lighter as I let go of the pressure I put on myself.
The pain in my knees did not go away, but I was able to move into the Camino my body and soul were asking of me.
Take a deep breath and ask yourself these questions:
What is weighing you down?
What does it feel like?
Who are you carrying it for?
What would happen if you let it go?
Below I’ve shared a video of my thoughts on baggage during my Camino.
I’d love to hear from you if you feel inclined to share your process of “shedding baggage” and “lightening your load”.
Have you been told you’re too sensitive? Unfortunately, it’s rather common in our society for highly sensitive people to be teased or criticized, even by loved ones. Our friends and family typically mean no harm. At times they may think they’re “just having fun” or maybe even showing affection.
As highly sensitive people, we may be able recognize the spirit of this way of relating. And so we get used to laughing it off and “letting it go”. But do we really let it go?
Over time, the hurtful words we hear settle deeply into the psyche.
We learn there’s something inherently wrong with us. The outside world tells us we’re weak and flawed. We’re too serious. We ought to be able to talk about certain issues without getting emotional.
Have you heard these words and statements?
I felt that way about myself for a long time. I wished I weren’t so sensitive. I felt so misunderstood and alone in my experience. Thinking of myself this way, made me feel anxious. I struggled to see the strength in being sensitive.
In recent years, I’ve begun to change my perspective on being highly sensitive.
And then something happened recently that blew my mind.
My dad (who has historically called me sensitive) told me that he sees the positive traits my mom possessed in me. The first and only trait he mentioned in that conversation was my sensitivity.
In a separate conversation, my partner also told me that one of qualities he finds most attractive in me is indeed that I’m sensitive.
The thing about being a highly sensitive person is that it’s only a problem if we internalize our sensitivity as something negative. When we can tap into our sensitivity as a strength, or even superpower, then we truly begin to shift the paradigm.
Superpowers of Highly Sensitive People
We’re deeply empathetic. Highly sensitive people frequently possess a strong ability to feel what loved ones and even strangers are experiencing. When we tune into these emotions, we truly feel them. This gives us a unique sense of open-minded compassion. I’ve had times when I was angry with someone, but still felt compassion toward that person knowing her pain. Of course, this superpower can also be a curse. Self-care is vital for highly sensitive empaths to avoid holding the suffering of others.
We’re considerate. We find ourselves extra conscious of our body language and respect the personal space of others because we know how it feels to be both shunned and invaded. We’re conscientious about the volume of our media and voices because we’ve been the quiet neighbor in a noisy building. Not everyone is sensitive to the same things, but we prefer not to infringe on the freedom of others to enjoy peaceful space.
We’re flexible thinkers. My partner once told me that if I were to have a gravestone, it would be etched with “part of me feels like…” While this phrase sometimes pertains to decision-making, it also comes out when I’m discerning between right and wrong. Even with matters that are black and white to many people, highly sensitive people are able to think less dualistically and see where others are coming from before judging.
We’re acutely aware. We are extraordinarily perceptive and intuitive when it comes to people and our surroundings. Sensitive people can often spot red flags in people and situations leading us to sniff out phonies or scam artists more quickly. I’ve taken a lot of risks in my life that make some people balk. But for me, I find I have a special knack for sensing the character of those around me.
We’re creative. Highly sensitive people are often very imaginative and adventurous in their thinking. We tend to prefer thinking outside the box rather than linear thought process, which can lead to innovative problem-solving or vivid works of art. As a social worker, thinking creatively was imperative to helping my clients and changing systems.
We’re sincere listeners. We tend to engage with others in a genuine manner that allows others to feel our support. Friends and family of highly sensitive people can typically feel our unique ability to hold space for their pain and struggle without getting overwhelmed or imposing our opinions. As an introvert, I sometimes disappoint my friends by not attending every party, but they know I’ll sit down with them for hours to lend a loving ear.
We embrace life experiences. Our nature is to connect to joy and sorrow equally and to experience the depth of human emotion. Highly sensitive people find meaning in life’s obstacles and use this to tap into our resilience. My journey of living with anxiety has taught me to integrate past pain into a resilient sense of self and thereby work with anxiety rather than resist it.
We love deeply. Highly sensitive people love a lot. We really do. We feel love in our bodies. We love with our eyes. We love with our touch and we love with our souls. No one feels love in the heart center like sensitives do.
What are you greatest superpowers as a highly sensitive person?
