Grief: We Gravitate Toward People Who Do It The Same Way We Do

I once posted an article on the Widow Chick Facebook page about men seeking out gender specific bereavement groups because they feel they grieve differently.  Well...of course they do!  I can’t understand the need to go out and buy a muscle car after the death of a spouse (as some of my widower friends have done).  And I can almost guarantee that they probably didn’t go through the same purse obsession that I did right after my husband died. 

I can’t explain it.  It just happened.

I kind of agree with this article and I kind of don’t.  I mean, I’m guessing that I would get a more understanding nod of the head sitting with women during group therapy than I would with a group of men.  Let’s face it:  They just don’t “get it” (the need for the perfect purse, I mean).

But the truth is...I don’t think it’s necessarily gender specific.  I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again:  Grieving is like parenting.  We gravitate toward people who do it the same way we do.

Think about it.  Many of us became parents right around the same time our friends did.  And before we had that first kid, we had visions of BBQs every Sunday, constant playdates, and our children marrying and having a son or daughter-in-law that we practically raised.

But then the kids became toddlers and we noticed that our friends really didn’t care if their child spilled chocolate milk all over our carpet.  They didn’t believe in time-outs and felt that discipline would diminish their child’s creativity.  They watched with delight while their child weaved in and out of the waiter’s legs at a restaurant as we cringed and swore we would never go out in public with them again.

Soon, we started seeing less and less of each other and your dream of their child becoming your in-law became more of a nightmare.

It’s the same process with grieving.

I think, for many people who haven’t had a significant loss, they assume that grief binds us all together...especially if we’ve had the same kind of loss.  And it does in a certain way.  Like giving birth...we can all commiserate with the pain of how it all came about.

But sometimes...that’s where our similarities end.

Some are desperate to take control of their lives after loss, while others have had enough and just wait for life to happen.  Some are ready to date after 6 months and some can’t think about it after 6 years.  Some are exhausted.  Some can’t stop moving.  Some need to be with people all the time.  Some need to be alone. 

And just because your husband died in an accident doesn’t always mean that you are going to relate to someone else who experienced a sudden loss (I think in the beginning we assume that is an important criteria for a supportive friendship when really it’s just a piece of the puzzle).  Someone who experienced a suicide may really hit it off with someone whose spouse died after a long illness.

The truth is, there are so many individual ways that we go about this experience...it’s really hard to find someone else who goes through it the same way.  And when I think about my close widowed friends right after my husband died...many of them were actually widowers.  Because we grieved the same way.

I know for a fact that so many of you go through the same thing I do:  When someone hears about the loss of a spouse, they immediately call you and tell you that you need to get in contact with them or that they gave that friend your information.  And honestly...I have no problem with that.  But in the last 4 years I’ve learned that the bond of “widowhood” isn’t the only bond that counts.  And while I’m happy to talk with them, listen to what they’re going through, and commiserate...I may not be their “go to” person in the future.

And that’s okay.

I’ve said to people many times, “You can give out my information, but I many not be the friend they need right now.  It depends on the person.  And depending on where they are...they may not be ready for my friendship.”

I mean...they may not even want to acknowledge that they’re a widow yet, much less talk to some crazy woman who’s been at it for 4 years.

I’m sure that many of us have learned the hard way that just because someone has experienced something similar, they may not be our new best friend.  It’s like going out on a first date:  You’re so hopeful that this could be “the one” and when you get there...the chemistry just ain’t right.  Finding the right support has a lot of trial and error involved.  But when you find it...it’s something that will forever change you, your life, and how you help others.

And let’s face it.

The right support is the right support, no matter what we’ve all experienced.

 If it’s done well...the details really shouldn’t even matter.

I'm Not Feeling Like Myself. Guess I'll Go Talk To My...HORSE???

"There is something about the outside of a horse that's good for the inside of a man."

                 ~Winston Churchill

Yesterday the kids and I had a little family time and did something that most people have probably not even heard of.

We received grief therapy.  From a horse.

Well, not directly from a horse.  He didn’t have his diploma framed and mounted in the barn or an overstuffed couch right next to the trough.  He wasn’t like Mr. Ed with a PhD.  He required a little assistance from his buddy, Michael Dawson, a licensed grief therapist here in Colorado.  Michael has been using horses in his therapy for both children and adults for the past 10 years through his organization the Philippi Center.

I heard from Michael a couple of weeks ago after I sent him a letter, informing him that his organization was on the resources list for www.theWiddahood.com.  He sent me an email, asking if I would be willing to come in and talk to him a little bit about what he does.

I felt an instant connection with Michael who admitted that he had never lost a spouse, but agreed with my theory that loss is really losing the life you thought you were going to have...which can mean many things to many people.  He explained to me that he understood that because he has a daughter who is physically limited in ways that most people aren’t. 

And he found a new way to connect with her.  Through horses.

We sat and talked for almost 2 hours about what he does, but that wasn’t enough for me.  I wanted to see it and experience for myself what it was like to have an unbiased and understanding horse, listen to me and take some of my problems away.  Since my kids are on Spring Break this week and I was so anxious to meet with Michael, I asked if my kids could come along as well.  He immediately agreed, telling me that he would structure a demonstration based around my family.

My kids were so excited when I told them we were going to spend the afternoon on a farm.  I told them, “We’re going to go talk to some horses about Daddy.”

Now, most people would give you a strange look if you announced that was going to be their Monday afternoon activity.  But my kids nodded like that was the most normal thing in the world.

Michael started us off slowly, in a room, sitting around in a circle saying our names, ages, and the special person who died.  Of course, since it was just my family, we all know these things about each other, but I had forgotten how powerful it can be just to say these basics out loud.

We then moved out to the ring and met Jazz and Charlie.  Michael seemed to know these horses completely, like they were old friends.

“Now, Charlie’s a worrier,” he said.  “Jazz is more easy-going.  But everyone responds differently to different personalities.”

Boy...you got that right.

We completed different exercises...some talking about feelings, some problem-solving with the horses (how DO you get a horse from point A to point B?).  With the quiet distraction of the horses, we talked about feelings that we have, some good and some bad, and at the end of our short session, we got out the brushes and started grooming the horses.

Now, I’m not a horse person, so I’ve never done this before.  But I hope it’s not the last time I do it.  It’s almost hypnotic and one of the most calming things I’ve ever done. 

“I once had a woman grooming the horse and start talking about her loss,” Michael said.  “By the end of the session, she didn’t even remember all that she had said.”

I can see how that might happen.

And as my oldest daughter and I gently brushed the horse together and talked to Michael about my husband, I could tell that Jazz was feeling it too. 

Because he almost fell asleep.

This was such an amazing and almost spiritual experience...I just can’t keep it to myself.  As we worked through the activities, I talked to Michael about how he would feel if I asked other widows if they could join us for a weekend of Horses Healing Grief this summer.

And he agreed.

In the next week, Michael and I are going to talk about dates for making this happen.  Depending on the interest, we are hoping that we can break this up into 2 different sessions:  One for widow(er)s and one for widow(er)s and their families, for those people who would like to participate with their children and make it a family weekend. 

During the family weekend, activities will be broken out so that widow(er)s will work together...and the kids will be in a separate group.  This gives the widow(er)s a chance to connect with each other (something that we all desperately need) and an opportunity for the kids to talk and chase that word “normal” once again.

I know that many of you have emailed me with your interest in a Widow’s Retreat weekend this summer as well.  And that’s still going to happen.  What we are talking about are three different weekends for you to choose from, depending on where your interest is.  And in the next week, I will be letting you know about the details of all of these weekends, hopefully giving you time to make your summer plans.

We’ve talked about this before...help in widowhood seems to come from unexpected places.  Friends we’ve never considered “close” before have become the people we lean on the most.  Activities that never interested us before become something we look forward to.  And in trying to find anything that might help us fight the Grief Monster, we sometimes have to look in unexpected places.

But I will admit:  I never thought I’d find help, healing, and renewal in a barn.

For more information about this series of Widow’s Retreats, please email catherine@thewiddahood.com  Our goal is to keep these groups small so that we can truly connect, but we will do our best to accommodate all of those who are interested.



For more blogs and articles from other widow(er) writers, join us at www.theWiddahood.com!  


© Catherine Tidd 2011