Self-Care & Grief Recovery

Hi All,

It's been on my mind to blog for several months, but I've kept putting it off. It's been on 'the' to-do list forever, yet I couldn't quite get moving on that list fast enough. You see, I lost my father this year at the age of 64. He told me and my 3 brothers on January 2, 2017 that he had cancer, a type of leukemia that is common among adults and a more easily treatable cancer, but on July 6th, 2017 he passed away.

I spent time each month traveling from Florida to New York to be with him, to help with daily tasks, drive to doctor appointments, sit with him during chemo, visit during hospital stays which unfortunately became monthly, but also so I could be closer to my family for personal support. You can understand how the rest of my life took a pause while the roller-coaster of cancer took ahold of my family.

The grief and anguish rolls through without much warning, and thoughts of what happened can easily sap away focus and attention. The sadness hangs out around my heart as a subtle reminder of all my family has lost and continues to process.

I KNOW that I'm only one of millions who has lost a parent, and my situation is hardly unique, yet pain is pain no matter the intellectual reminders. The grief we feel is as unique as the relationship we had with the deceased.

I'm softening the professional-personal boundaries in this post for many reasons but mostly with the intention of connecting with those who are suffering loss (any type of loss), and continue to struggle with grief. Luckily, I have the advantage of being a Grief Recovery Counselor, and have some knowledge of the actions to take in relation to my grief, but we tend to not have a framework to guide us. I can provide that support and structure for you, and walk with you through the steps to recovery, not only from the loss, but from the feelings of grief.

Please be in touch if you or someone you know is struggling with loss. It is never too late, nor too soon, to become familiar with the steps toward recovery. With great compassion, Corinne