Grieving - my story and application of ACT

The following is a piece about my personal experiences of grief after the loss of my friend and ACT mentor. It is only because of the self-observation skills I have built using ACT that I am even able to write about this. Everyone experiences grief differently and grieves differently depending on who it is that they lost. So you may find similarities with my experience or you may not and that's ok.

My grieving started with this thought: "F**k, f**k, f**k" repeated again and again. Not very eloquent, I know, but that's what it was. Meant as a more extreme and sweary form of "no, no, no" I realised I had, understandably, got into a struggle with my feelings. When I let go of that struggle, the tension building in my chest eased a bit, which was a nice bonus. The first thing I did was seek the support of my husband. I cried a lot that first night. I also fell back on an old agenda of control and ate a lot of cake, though it was like ash in my mouth. 

That night I was swamped with memories of my friend. I let myself experience them and cry as much as I needed but every time I felt myself going into denial I tried to drop the struggle. I tried to take a step back, getting into contact with the observing self and wondered why the mind bombards us with memories when we grieve. My guess (completely based on no science whatsoever) is that the mind is just trying to retrieve and show us all stored information about the person whom we have had an extremely distressed reaction about in an attempt to help us with the situation by providing all possible pertinent information. This can be excruciating, but imagining that my mind is doing it for a misguided reason along with getting into contact with the observing self took some of the sting out of it.

By the early hours of the morning I decided it was time to try and get some sleep, so I used the Defusion technique of leaves on a stream - every time a memory surfaced I placed it on a leaf to float away down the stream. This was quite intensive with the sheer amount of thoughts popping up but eventually the combination of Defusion and exhaustion managed to get me to sleep.

The next day I can only really describe as emotionally drowning. I carried on with my day as much as possible - I still had my toddler to look after, but the tv was doing a lot of babysitting that day. I had to ask for help to prepare food for myself because the moment I looked in the fridge to decide what meal to make I was simply repulsed by the idea of anything. I know from experience that when I'm in this state I will be able to force myself to eat if food is put in front of me and often feel somewhat better for doing so. I tried to ensure that I was willing to feel my feelings as much as possible and accept that this emotional storm had to take its course, taking heart that it would eventually pass.

The next days were filled with moments of normality, where I almost forgot my grief followed by gut punching sadness when it was remembered. I reached out to a friend and we both talked about our memories of Ross, what a great man he was and how he impacted both our lives. This conversation was incredibly helpful to me and even though it was painful at times, I felt a great sense of relief afterwards.

On the Friday and Saturday I felt a strange sense of disconnection - I was unable to cry and had a tense stress feeling in my stomach throughout the day. I didn't notice any psychological struggles going on, so as best as I could I tried to allow that feeling to be there. On the Saturday night I saw an older man walking past and angrily thought "why do you get to live to old age and Ross doesn't?" And with that thought the dam burst and I was able to cry again and the tension in my body eased. I'm not proud of that thought but at least it served a purpose in the progress of my grief.

I also wrote a tribute to my friend that week as a way of trying to express what he meant to me and to help me process what I was feeling. I intended only to publish it if I felt like it, safe in the knowledge that I could keep it to myself if I I wished to.

Time dilation

One thing I noticed in the first week of grieving was that time seemed to go a lot slower than normal. My parents-in-law had been staying the weekend the news broke and were to come back the next weekend, leaving Monday night and returning Thursday night. My mother-in-law commented that they were coming back so soon that it would feel like they never left. Usually, that would be the case, but I noticed this time that I felt like those three days were a solid week in length. I also met a friend on the Wednesday and the time between then and the following Monday when I saw him again at the funeral felt like at least two weeks. My days weren't particularly different from before so I can only assume that it was the grief that changed my perception of time passing.

Music

I've been listening to music a lot more than usual, especially when I'm in the car. I have chosen music that I find uplifting but that doesn't have such levity that it conflicts with my emotional state. I've avoided any melancholy songs which might further lower my mood. I was concerned at first that I was using music as a distraction to help me avoid my emotions but discovered that listening to music was actually helping me to open up to my feelings. In the quiet state I achieved while driving and listening, I found myself able to connect with how I was feeling in that moment. This became the most likely point I would be able to cry (not advisable while driving) other than the quiet time before falling asleep.

Sleep

Though I've managed to get myself to sleep ok most nights by using the leaves on the stream mindfulness exercise I've found the quality of my sleep has been quite bad. Lots of dreaming and restlessness. Unfortunately this sets me up for a poor start the next day and compounds the misery a bit but I think it will settle back to normal soon. Doesn't help that my toddler has a cold and wakes me 3-5 times a night too.

Discovering values

I have realised that these kind of life events can be an excellent opportunity to discover some values which had previously eluded us. Any regrets that arise about the person you have lost may indicate a value that you weren't following. See if you can work out any hidden values and then think how you can apply them to your future actions with others. It is too late to change your interactions with the person you lost but let their last gift to you be guidance for your future.

Two weeks on

Now I am more or less getting back to normal. I still get on average 2-3 moments of sadness each day but they are gradually decreasing in frequency and length. I try to make sure that I am willing to feel these as much as possible. My mind surprised me by on several occasions trying to convince me that I was mistaken and my friend was just still on sick leave. Thanks mind but that's not true.

The effectiveness of ACT

What has really bowled me over the last few weeks is how much the various ACT skills have helped me cope with this grief. My previous loss, 4 years before I started using ACT, made me very ill for a long time. The skill I found most essential for my grief was being willing to feel my emotions and drop the struggle with them. When we struggle with our feelings of grief and try to deny them and push them away we can cause ourselves a great deal of suffering. This kind of sadness can be frightening but opening yourself up to it means that you need only experience the original pain and not the additional pain brought on by pushing those feelings away. 

Defusion was another very helpful skill - when my thoughts were pulling me in too deep it was useful to be able to defuse from them. 

I also often used the observing self as a safe space to view my experience from.

Contacting the present moment was essential to help me drop anchor in my emotional storm - I tended to use mindfulness of the breath and notice 5 things to do this.

In my view, how well I have been able to cope with this grief, especially considering I am not even on antidepressants right now, is a testament to how amazing the ACT approach is. More than ever, I am sure of the value and potency of ACT and am greatly motivated to continue practicing it in my own life and teaching it to others.

The Juxtaposition of Celebrating Death and Birth

On Monday I said goodbye to my friend and mentor at his funeral. Those who knew him celebrated his life by sharing memories and tears with one another. It was beautiful and it was heartbreaking. We spoke of all he had achieved in life and what legacy he had left us. The next day was my daughter's 2nd birthday and we celebrated her life thus far, remembering the joyous changes she wrought in our lives and hoping for a rich, fulfilling future for her.

Having these two events occur in quick succession, one can't help but make comparisons. With a birthday there isn't the same heartache as with a funeral - the difficult thoughts of never seeing your friend again, the struggle with the fact that they deserved so much more time. But the celebration of their life feels very similar: how lucky we feel to have had that person be a part of our lives and commemorating their achievements to this point (even if those achievements, in the case of my toddler, are just learning to walk and talk). Instead of sadness at their passing we may feel worries for their future: "will I be a good enough mum to guide you through?" "How can I protect you from hardships in life when you are no longer under my care 24/7?" "I dearly hope that life will be kind to you." And these thoughts can carry their own special kind of pain.

The similarities I see make me realise the importance of the present moment - we may look backwards, we may look forwards, but the now is all we have. Let's make the most of it.

A tribute to my friend

Today an incredible man was laid to rest and the world is all the poorer for the loss of such a wonderful human being.

Ross Chernin was the clinical psychologist who first introduced me to ACT. He also wrote the ACT course I currently teach and I had the pleasure of teaching alongside him over 2 years.

He was a great proponent of ACT - not only using it in his work, teaching it to other professionals and bringing it to The Recovery College but also using it in his own life. He very much embodied the ACT philosophy in his everyday life and swore by how much it helped him personally.

Though I can never say for sure and as melodramatic though it may sound, the way my life was going before I met him, I suspect he may well have saved my life. I hate the irony of that - someone who so very much deserved a rich, fulfilling and long life saving the life of someone who desperately wanted to lose her own.

He was such a patient teacher - he spent hours going over every detail of the slides and exercises I was going to present in ACT on Life until I felt confident with the material and he always welcomed any ideas for changes and improvements. He saw in me an aptitude for ACT and helped me to make it flourish. He always believed in me even when I was so full of doubts. He gently encouraged me to push my boundaries but assured me he was always there to support me if I got stuck. He was always full of praise for my efforts even when I felt I had done poorly.

There was a wonderful cadence to his voice when he guided a mindfulness exercise, so much so that he would frequently warn the class about his soporific voice before starting. Every time he acted out the tug-of-war metaphor with a volunteer from the class it was so powerful that it never failed to bring a tear to my eye. But when I told him how good the metaphor was he would always be surprised and downplay it. I don't think he truly knew how great he was at what he did. His skill at using and teaching ACT was superb but he was far too modest and humble to ever realise it.

His enthusiasm for ACT and for life were infectious and I couldn't help feeling more positive in my outlook after each time I taught alongside him. He truly lead by example, using all the techniques he taught in his own life. I had a huge amount of respect for him and his profession.

When someone passes away it is natural for us to try and deify them, focusing on all the good they did and ignoring any bad, but even before his death I idolised him - he did so much to help others while being so open about his own struggles. He was so human, with the various faults and weaknesses that come from being human but he acknowledged them and was open about them and was always striving to improve himself.

I saw first hand how he helped so many people with a variety of mental health conditions, but these were just a handful of the lives he must have touched in his work. He had so much more to give to the world and it is so tragic and unfair that his life has ended at such a young age. Even in his final weeks he was planning to come back to work for short periods because his vocation was clearly a very important value to him and despite all the horrible symptoms he must have been experiencing he still wanted to carry on helping others. Many lesser people would have shut down and given up under those circumstances but through all that he still held on to his values and fully embraced the ACT ethos.

Ross, I hope you knew what a profound effect you had on my life and how dearly I will miss you. I was so very lucky to have known you and will never forget you. Rest in peace my friend.

If you would like to make a donation to The Brain Tumour Charity on Ross' behalf and for all those still battling this terrible illness then please follow this link to the JustGiving page set up in his memory. Make a donation.

Grieving: Funeral Fears

This week my ACT mentor and friend Ross passed away - so you can expect a fair amount of posts over the coming weeks about experincing grief.

The funeral is coming up soon and I have chosen to go because it is in line with my values and I think he would have liked me to go too (well, a friend assured me that would be the case at least.) However, I am struggling with the fear of what emotions might be induced at the funeral. I often wouldn't see him for months at a time and so I fear that despite all the grief I have already experienced this last week that maybe the reality of it has not truly hit me yet and likely will do so at the funeral. If that happens I will likely feel very vulnerable and the idea of being in that state while surrounded by strangers makes me very fearful. Thankfully I have a good friend for support who will also be there and support in place for when I come home.

When these thoughts and feelings come up the inevitable question gets asked - why not stay at home and avoid all that pain? If I avoided painful experiences that the funeral might bring up then I would be shrinking my life space and not being true to my values. It is important to me to show my respect and commemorate his life with others who knew him and the great things he did.

So I have resolved to go and in the meantime I am sitting with my fear when it appears and defusing any thoughts which accompany it. It is uncomfortable, but I know that if I struggle with it I will make the fear monster grow stronger. 

This is what I feel is best for me but if you are going through a similar situation then remember to do what works for you. Use your values to guide you and make sure you have the support you need in place. 

When I wrote this post and mentioned my fear of feeling vulnerable I remembered a YouTube video Ross often recommended and decided to rewatch it. It is incredibly relevant to what I am feeling now and once again it amazes me how he is still managing to impact my life even now. It is about the Power of Vulnerability, if you have a spare 20 minutes I highly recommend you watch it.

World Mental Health Day - raising awareness with golden cracks

In memory of Ross Chernin - he gave me the tools to help myself and for that I will be forever grateful.

1 in 4 adults and 1 in 10 children will experience a mental health problem in a given year. In any given week 1 in 10 adults are suffering with depression. With such statistics it's hard to believe that we all talk so little about mental health and that there is still such stigma surrounding it.

It's time to stand up tall and let everyone know that I've had issues with my mental health and it's nothing to be ashamed of. This year, on World Mental Health Day, I am doing this by painting golden cracks on my face to imitate the Japanse art of Kintsugi.

Kintsugi, roughly translated as 'golden joinery', is a Zen tradition of repairing broken ceramics with a gold infused lacquer. It is a practice filled with respect for the item, rather than trying to hide the cracks, the gold lacquer makes a strong join while celebrating the damage endured along the way. In this way I want to proudly show that despite the many times that my mental health difficulties have broken me, I have taken great care to put myself back together again but that I also carry the history of those experiences with me and they are a part of who I am and make me, as a person, stronger and more beautiful than before.

By painting gold cracks on my skin I am showing others that I have experienced mental illness and also making the statement that I am not ashamed of it, I want to display it for all to see because it is a part of my history and a part of me. I want to let others know that they are not alone.

I hope that if this idea spreads well then we might be able to start showing each other that yes, I have experienced mental health issues too. You don't have to say anything more about it, but if you did want to, then it would be the perfect opportunity to start more open conversations about mental health and what we are all going through. I hope that one World Mental Health day in the future someone who is suffering from their own difficulties might open their Facebook feed and after seeing how many friends are wearing golden cracks that day, realise that they're not alone. I truly hope this encourages them to reach out.

For me, ACT is my gold infused lacquer, helping me join the pieces back together, stronger and more resilient than before and this blog is my way of showing off the beauty of those gold cracks to the world. Whatever tools you use to help you manage your illness I hope you will want to join in with me today and on future WMH days.

Please post your photos on the KUTA Facebook page and pass the idea on to your friends. If you have joined me today or in the future, then my heartfelt thanks. Before you go, please take a moment to look at some fundamental facts from the Mental Health Foundation in the slides below.

The mind demands to be heard

In the car today my toddler was saying "red car, red car, red car" again and again to me and it was only when I acknowledged her by saying "yes, there was a red car!" that she stopped saying it over and over.

This is a lot like dealing with our minds. When the mind comes up with a thought it demands to be heard - it will bring that thought up again and again no matter how much you try to ignore it. The best way to handle your mind is exactly the same as I handled my toddler - notice and acknowledge it. By acknowledging a thought you don't guarantee that it will stop straight away but it will pass in its own time and possibly more quickly than if you tried to ignore it. By ignoring it you are likely to get repeated occurrences of that thought until the mind feels like it has been heard. Acknowledging the thought doesn't mean you have to believe it or do what it says - it's simply noticing it's there and what it's saying. A simple "thanks mind" can help you defuse from the thought while acknowledging it.

When I acknowledged my toddler's thought about the red car she stopped repeating it over and over. However, just because you've acknowledged one thought doesn't mean the mind is finished with you, like my toddler, who after a short pause said, "orange car, orange car, orange car".

Finding purpose in pointless thoughts

Sometimes we have pointless thoughts pop up in our heads. Often these kind of thoughts pass quickly but sometimes they might linger and get you hooked up in them.

Yesterday I had one of those thoughts. On the weekend we had friends come to stay in our house with their children. The children were older than my daughter but she really loved playing with them. She copied everything they did and followed them everywhere they went. This thought came to mind and caught me in its net: "I wish I had children earlier so that my daughter could have an older brother or sister to play with like this." What a pointless thought! Nothing I do can change the past but I still managed to make myself feel bad that things weren't different.

By labelling the thought as pointless I had already done a shortened version of helpful questions for unhelpful thoughts but to be a little more kind to myself I asked if there was anything I could learn about myself from this thought? It confirmed for me that I wish to have more than one child and although my daughter won't ever have an older sibling to look up to, she could be that for another child if I do choose to have one in the future.

So just like that I had found purpose in that pointless thought and I was ready to defuse from it and carry on. I do find that there is often purpose to the thoughts my mind brings up, even if it does so very ineloquently and requires a bit of digging to discover the core idea it might be trying to convey. A word of warning though, be careful that your reflection doesn't turn into rumination. If you find that you are getting dragged in deep and can't find any purpose then maybe it is just time to defuse from the thought and let it go. Everyone's mind is different and you may find that more often than not there is nothing to find in your pointless thoughts. Just do what works best for you.