Going on a Bear Hunt
Do you remember the childhood story about going on a bear hunt? Its song’s familiar refrain goes, “We’re going on a bear hunt, we’re going on a bear hunt. We’re going to catch a big one, we’re going to catch a big one. I’m not scared, I’m not scared. What a beautiful day, what a beautiful day.” I loved this book as a child. There was an adventure filled with excitement and trepidation. There were hard parts, and there was optimism. As a mom, I read it countless times to my kids, trying to lean into the main lesson from the story: “Can’t go over it. Can’t go under it. Gotta go through it.” I thought it might instill resiliency in them.
There are so many moments in life when we battle with ourselves, trying to find shortcuts through the hard parts. We read Cliff’s Notes to prepare for tests. We fabricate lies to cover our mistakes instead of owning up to our errors. We take pills to lose weight, stay awake, fall asleep, or be happier, calmer, or more “normal.” Trust me, I’m not judging. I’ve tried numerous shortcuts in this adventure we call life to hasten the desired outcomes. I fell for every “get rich quick” scheme. I joined Amway and Primerica in my early adult years, searching for an easy fortune for my family. I cringe to admit it, but that’s the truth. We are all tempted by the shortcut.
Trying to avoid the hard parts of life is not something we outgrow…and unfortunately, life doesn’t stop throwing them our way. I am 49 years old, and I lost my mom this year. That was the hardest thing I’ve faced to date. However, her loss was just one of many hard parts of the journey. Witnessing the decline of her mind and body brought me to my knees. There was no shortcut to her deteriorating health, and I chose to stay by her side and go through it all.
When we face something challenging, the common sentiment is to focus on the beautiful aspects, the things for which we are grateful, and the moments we’ve treasured. We celebrate the love we’ve shared and the happy times we recall from our memories. Please understand that this part is essential. Pick up any self-help book, listen to a podcast, or talk to a friend about a difficult experience you’ve faced, and with the purest intentions, they will likely encourage you to practice self-love, grace, gratitude, and forgiveness when necessary. As I mentioned, these feelings and practices are vital for the healing process.
In the case of my mom’s death, I’ve done my best to do all these things as I’ve waded through the murky depths of grief. Yet, I’ve continued to feel like something has been stuck inside me, like a piece of gum that is adhered to the bottom of my heart. It’s unnamable but feels tangible and real. I can’t shake it off despite my deep breathing exercises, meditation, barre classes and therapy (thank goodness for therapy!). I think intuitively, I’ve known that I skipped a step and took a shortcut, even if I did so unintentionally.
The Missing Step
I recently read an email from the wonderfully thoughtful Tara Mohr. She is a true gift to this universe, and I highly recommend joining her email list. Her words are like a gentle hand on your back, soothing you as you navigate life. In this particular message, she named what I was feeling. She called it emotional accumulation. During difficult times, we are IN our intense emotions. We are also often focused on the logistical details. We are in survival mode; therefore, we can’t healthfully process these feelings as they happen; that’s simply not how we’re wired.
Eventually, the hard part ends, and we move on to practicing gratitude and self-care to help us process what transpired. However, we often overlook the most crucial aspect of healing: naming the hard parts.
For me, when I walked alongside my mom on her long journey towards death, many things scared me. Many things were new to me and squeezed my heart in a way I had never felt. I had no words for these feelings, and so I never named them. If you will allow me, I will do so now:
It was hard to see my mom’s strong body wither away.
It was hard to listen to my mom talk about things that weren’t there.
It was hard to see my mom laying in a hospital bed in her own bedroom.
It was hard to leave her each time I had to fly back home, not knowing if I would see her again.
It was hard to let go of her hand.
It was hard to see the pain and anguish on my dad’s face.
It was hard to miss her passing by a few hours. I really wanted to be there.
And the list goes on. With every admission I type here, the tears stream from my eyes, cleaning these hard things I faced – these hard things my heart was clinging onto. As Tara said in her email, “Now, in the “after,” I could review them with a spirit of hand-on-heart, “Oh honey, that was hard. I see you. I honor that. And I have so much compassion for you.”
Making Space for Healing
Yes. 1000% yes. The practice of naming the things we go through is powerful. It’s a way of honoring and naming what happened so we can formally acknowledge them and let them go. I know it can feel like self-pity or whining, but that is society talking, not our hearts. It opens the much-needed space for grace and compassion to nestle in and start to work their magic. If we miss the step of calling out what was hard, we can’t possibly heal those parts, and everything builds up within us. That is emotional accumulation.
This was a life-changing realization and practice for me, so I am eager to share it with you. I now understand what step I was trying to go over and under and not through – the naming.
I encourage you to take a moment during the holiday lull to reflect on a challenge you’ve faced at any point in your past. Before moving on to deep breathing techniques and practicing gratitude, name the things that stung your heart during the hard thing. Then, acknowledge the pain you felt. Tell yourself how brave you were and how much compassion you have for yourself. After that, move forward. I promise that if you honor the hard parts and give them a name, a sense of lightness will follow.
I wish you a holiday of healing and lightness.
Jo
