Tag: grief

The holidays are both joyful and sad

by Amy Gamble, posted in Uncategorized

When I think of the holidays, I’m reminded of all the large family gatherings with lots of traditional fixings, laughter and cheer. Leading up to the big day, I remember the smell of cookies baking in the oven, while I sang along with my sister at the piano playing our favorite Christmas tunes.

A little over a week before Christmas my family would get together and celebrate my birthday. Yes, December was always an action packed month, mostly happy times, as it is for many people.

But this year the holiday season is arriving right at a time when two of my family members have passed away within the past few months. Losing a loved one is hard no matter when it happens. Picking up and trying to move forward with life is difficult without tossing in a holiday with so many traditions right in the middle of the early part of a grief process.

I have mixed emotions about the holiday season this year. It’s one of my favorite times of the year, and yet I’ll be without my beautiful mother for the first time in my life. I’m sad she’s not here and I miss her dearly.

And (not but) I still put up some Christmas decorations. At first, it felt strange to put them out and then I realized they made me feel good. The bright colors brought a smile to my face and the holiday music I played in the background reminded me of me good times.

Finding something that makes us feel good or brings some kind of joy during an otherwise sad time, is a reflection of resilience building. It’s taking something that could be overwhelmingly painful and without guilt or judgement, allowing ourselves to feel the happy memories along with the sadness that comes when we know our holiday season will never be the same again.

The ability to hold two opposing views in our minds at the same time is called cognitive dissonance. It’s possible to have joyful memories and deep sorrow all at the same time.

I’ve smiled when I’ve heard a favorite song and cried moments later when I acknowledged the hollow feeling of sorrow. I’ve made myself busy and I’ve sat with my grief. I’ve discovered over the years that feeling a wide range of emotions is one of the best types of self-care I can practice.

On social media I’ve noticed some posts that reminded others this was not a happy time for some. I acknowledge that is true. It made me feel sad for the person who posted it. And then, it made me feel sad for me too.

Sometimes it’s much easier to get locked in the “negative emotions.” Sadness, sorrow, pity, pain, hurt, etc. But there’s also another side to grief. Grief holds joyful memories too. And those joyful memories lift us up and help us get through times when all we want is to have our loved ones back for just one more day.

I can’t say this is an overall happy time for me. I don’t feel happy. But I do feel joyful in the many pleasant memories I have. I also feel sadness for the missing happy birthday voice who will not be singing this year. I feel sorrow for the faces that will be gone from our annual holiday celebration.

The holidays have a way of putting our losses under a microscope. It’s like zooming in on something with a giant sized magnifying glass. I’ve challenged myself to allow a wide range of emotions and to focus on not only the hole in my heart, but the many blessings I’m fortunate to have…the friends, acquaintances, family members who are all still here.

I want to wish all my readers a happy holiday season and a big Merry Christmas too! I hope your holidays are joyful, but if you experience sadness, grief or in general are stressed out, know that you’re not alone. Remember you have a foundation of resilience that can help you make it through no matter what emotions pop up.

Amy Gamble
Author and Olympian

Amy gamble

Amy Gamble is a National Award winning Mental Health Advocate. She recently finished her second book, Unsilenced: A Memoir of Healing from Trauma.

Amy’s Author Page

Writing my way through adversity

by Amy Gamble, posted in Mental Health

More than 20 years ago, my family lost five close relatives within a two year period. I remember the feelings of being overwhelmed with grief. But having lived through that experience of compounding grief, I find myself in a very different position today as my family has had two losses in a matter of two months.

In October 2023, I took a class called Write Your Way Through Grief, as a way to help me navigate the recent loss of my mother. It was extremely therapeutic to write daily about grief, especially because as a culture it’s awkward and uncomfortable to talk about death and in general loss.

As I poured out my feelings, thoughts and emotions on the page, I noticed how sharing those things opened the window for others to share with me how they felt about experiencing loss. Writing opens the doors for grief to come through, whether your reading or writing.

A few days ago I lost my brother-in-law. His death was sudden and accidental, although he had been struggling with his health for over a year. The question that comes to my mind from an outside perspective is – How do you handle this much adversity all at one time? Most would agree two deaths of loved ones within two months is emotionally difficult to navigate.

My answer is noticing the feelings in the moment, not being afraid to face the pain and sadness and recognizing there will be times when it’s okay to numb yourself. Numbing is in fact a way of coping. As mentally healthy as I am, I too have moments when I have to detach and focus on what I have to do to get through my day. Compartmentalizing is a healthy way to deal with difficult circumstances.

As I have recently learned with the death of my mother, as cold as it sounds, life goes on. The world doesn’t stop when we lose a loved one. But sometimes it feels like it should stop. As if we who are experiencing loss need for others to take a moment and acknowledge what we are going through is difficult. Generally speaking, I think most people understand, because every single person has dealt with loss in some fashion.

Numbing emotions is a defense mechanism to uncomfortable and painful emotions. Grief is about as uncomfortable as you can get. Having multiple losses in such a short amount of time is like standing in the middle of a train track and hearing the whistle of a train coming right at you. All you can do in the moment is react in a way that helps you survive.

Someone had written a social media post about how much I’ve had to go through in a two year time period. The truth is I’ve dealt with so much adversity in my life that I’ve built up an incredible amount of resilience. The old adage that says, “That which doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger,” couldn’t be anymore true.

We cope and we deal with what’s in front of us, in the ways we have learned over time. Sometimes we make healthy choices and other times we lean on negative habits. As I’ve walked this pathway the past few months, I’ve chosen to take the healthy path. Has it been easy? No. There have been times when it would have been far easier to revert back into negative coping strategies. It turns out one of the benefits of having been through my own mental health challenges, is that I’ve examined ways in which to manage my mental health.

Life is tricky sometimes. Don’t feel as if you’re alone in the struggle. Everyone has some level of emotional difficulty in life, no matter what they have or what they don’t.

Writing has taught me much about myself, my history and my present. As I explored the deep levels within my own psyche, I’ve grown in my ability and compassion to understand others.

At the end of the day, if we live long enough we’ll be dealt cards that sometimes seem like we’re beat before the hand is over. The key is learning to navigate adversity, regardless of what life throws at you. Believe in yourself that you can make it through and know everything will work out in time.

Author and Olympian

Amy gamble

Amy Gamble is a National Award winning Mental Health Advocate, former Olympian and author of the book Unsilenced: A Memoir of Healing from Trauma. (Available on Amazon November 30, 2023)

Amy Gamble author Page

Walking in the grief wilderness without a map!

by Amy Gamble, posted in Uncategorized

My grief map is a topographical map of the wilderness, except I left home without it. I don’t think I can re-draw a grief map. I actually feel as if I’m wondering in the wilderness a little lost without a map. Being lost is not foreign to me, because I’ve actually been lost in the wilderness before for a few days. Having had that experience I’m not really frightened of not having a set way to find my way through grief.

I’m comfortable with the idea of wandering. Of not knowing when to turn left or right, east or west, north or south. I’m just walking and going with the flow, as if I was following a stream downward in hopes of finding civilization. 

I’m lonely at times. The grief I feel can overwhelm me, but I manage to compartmentalize. I’m taking one small step at a time, because any faster and I won’t be able to keep the pace and any slower and I’ll feel as if the grief wildnerness is going to swallow me up. I’ve decided the best option is to take one day at a time.

Even though I’m sort of wandering and a little lost, I’m still noticing the beauty in the scenery. As I remember the massively tall beautiful evergreen trees with snow bunched up on the bushy limbs their beauty is like the people I’m meeting along the way in my grief expedition. Their beautiful souls give me hope, just as nature’s beauty gave me hope when I was lost.

Sometimes I doubt myself that I’ll be able to make it to wherever this path is leading me. I feel like I’d be better served with a guide. But I lost my guide to the otherside in September. If she were here I’d feel a whole lot better about walking without a map. But I do draw upon her strength spiritually. I know she’s with me, just as I knew how much she loved me when I was actually literally lost in the wildnerness.

Like many of my experiences I have a tendency to share with other what I learn. Right now, I’d share that I’m not sure grief really does follow any kind of map. I think everyone really has to figure out how to get from here to there…wherever here and there is. 

What I’ve come to learn is that the more I explore grief, the more I find it. Sometimes lurking in the shadows of the past. I ask myself, “Shouldn’t that 30 plus year old loss not bother me today? Why do I still feel pain and sorrow?” And then, I laugh as I answer my own question. “The pain is tolerable. The memory of loss will always be sad. There’s no way to make it happy…to turn it into something it wasn’t.” 

Walking step by step, one day at a time and noticing all the things that make me feel one way or another is helping me heal. Though healing isn’t always linear. It doesn’t matter if I go East, South, North or West, as long as I’m walking I’m surviving. And as in the case when I was acutally lost in the wildnerness, I eventually found other people in the wildnerness who helped me, I’m finding other people now who are helping me navigate the grief process.

As long as I keep moving. I’ll find my way. It may not be easy and the terrain can be treacherous at times, but I’ll draw on my inner strength and the fact that I was loved unconditionally by a woman I called mom. The love will help me survive long enough, until I meet other travelers along my journey.

I can rest peacefully knowing I will be okay. 

Author and Olympian

amy gamble

I’m an author and former Olympian who writes about mental health. Having recently lost my mom, I’m writing my way through grief.

Amy’s Author Page

What’s in my grief garden?

by Amy Gamble, posted in Uncategorized

            My grief garden is plowed in the hills of West Virginia where the windy roads mirror the snake like shape of a rushing creek. I discovered through writing my garden isn’t only one plot, but a multitude of plots with years of grief planted, buried several feet into the ground and fertilized with good ole’ fashion coping mechanisms, some positive and some more on the negative side.

            The more I write every day, the more I’m vigilant about allowing the sun to shine on the seeds that were buried long ago, I’ve begun to see the harvest. In a strange kind of way my mom dying in September was the most powerful fertilizer I could have ever imagined. Her passing allowed all the seeds to break through the ground and began to allow me to pick from the garden.

            As I’m walking in my garden if I’m not careful, I take my shoe and push back a pile of dirt.  over the plant. I never cover the roses that still bloom, even as the summer gives way to the fall. They remind me of when my mother asked me to plant them. We had to try twice because the first knock rose bushes died. The second time around these bushes survived a wicked spring frost. As I see the petals gently blowing in the wind, I’m reminded of how much my mother loved those roses. I can see her smiling, as we sat at the patio, and she raved about their beauty.

            Suddenly, I need to move past the roses because while at first, they brought me great joy, my happy memories lead me down the path of coming to terms with her being gone. As much as I know it’s okay to cry, I just seem to want to limit how much watering I give daily.

            As I walk through my garden, I pick up a green pepper. I bring it in, cut it and take all the annoying seeds out. It makes me happy to have another vegetable, but then I taste it and it’s bitter. I try again, same result. Sometimes things look so beautiful on the outside, but then, well then, the harsh reality sets in. Not everything leads me down the pathway of sweetness, most things end up in the same place. Sweet and yet bitter. Will I ever get to only sweet or will there always be the looming taste of bitterness awaiting me?

            I dig in my garden. In the same way I helped my father dig up potatoes planted in the annual potato patch. They lie less than a foot below the surface. It’s not hard to dig them up…just like it’s not hard to dig up my stories of grief. For a moment I stare off into the distance looking at that potato patch. It was always a happy place for me. It still is. It’s not the garden or what’s planted I’m afraid of, it’s what happens when I pull them out with clumpy, clay dirt and must my get hands dirty.

            I think I just like to keep my hands nice and neat. But the garden requires my hands to be dirty. And that’s what I’m learning about grief. If I want to really explore all that grief has to teach me, I’ve got to roll up my sleeves and not be afraid to go shoulder deep into however far down I need to dig.

             I believe anyone who crosses paths with me in this life will benefit from my grief garden. As I learn I can teach and as I heal, I can help heal. I’ll share the beauty and maybe even share a little of my dirt if needed. 

Author and Olympian

Amy gamble

I’m a former Olympian who loves to write. I write about topics related to mental health. I’m speaking from my heart about the topic of grief as a way to heal. I also want to help normalize the topic, as holding in or ignoring emotions aren’t good for our mental health. 

Amy’s Author Page

The tree of life heals my heart!

by Amy Gamble, posted in Uncategorized

It was spring 2021, as I sat outside on the patio with my mother enjoying the warmth of the sun on my face. 

My mother said, “I want to plant a tree just above the hill. What do you think?”

“I think that’s a great idea. I love trees,” I answered with a great deal of enthusiasm. “What kind of tree do you want?” 

“I like a maple tree. They have beautiful colors in the fall,” she said as her green eyes sparkled with the possibility of seeing her vision through.

And so the maple tree was planted. I cry some tears of joy for the beautiful memory she gave me and tears of sadness for my aching heart that misses her with all my heart. 

The fall season has arrived and the little maple tree’s leaves have turned red and yellow. just as she said it would. I have to stop writing to wipe my river of tears away. I’m so touched by her lasting gifts.

When my mother passed away I decided to plant a tree in her honor. As I scanned through my emails this morning I found the certificate of memory for her tree. I smiled thinking she would be so happy to know there’d be a tree in the forest planted with loving intention. 

A year or so ago I was out west and came upon a store called “Karma Luck.” I went into the store and found a copper made tree of life that was supposed to have been made in Tibet. The little tree with black colored leaves coming out of a white rock is a symbol of the source of life. Legend has it if you put notes under the tree the universe will bring to you what you have asked for. I have since learned many other religions have the tree of life as a symbol representing the source of life or a cycle of life and death itself.

My mother loved that tree of life I gave her so much, she purchased a bedspread that had a pattern of the tree of life. She was a woman of great faith and believed God really does answers prayers. 

About a month after my mom died, I went to church for the first time in a long time. As I sat in the wooden pew I glanced up at the alter. On the right side hanging from the ceiling was a giant white banner with colorful symbols and the lettering which said, “The Tree of Life.” 

I sat amazed and then immediately started to cry. I cried because I couldn’t go home and tell my mom about the tree of life I saw at church. I cried because I felt disappointment and a sense of loss that I didn’t have her to share my news with. I was sad and then I became peaceful knowing that she would have thought my discovery was pretty cool and not ironic at all.

So, there was sort of this theme about trees that brings up a variety of different emotions – sadness, joy, smiles, sorrow, and the pain of loss. And yet, as the summer gives way to the fall and the trees grace us with their beautiful colors, I am reminded that one of the best gifts my mother gave me was planting that maple tree. Because I think she knew anytime anyone saw that tree we’d think of her and her endearing spirit of love we were so fortunate to have.

If all of these elements were in a kaleidoscope, I’d see darkness as I’d feel the sadness wash over me. As I turn the kaleidoscope, I’d see beautiful red, yellow and green colors that represented hope and life and gratefulness. I’d hear the whispering wind blow as it shook the leaves from the trees. And as the sun retreats further away, I’d remember that sunny spring day when the little maple tree was given a place to grow in my backyard. A real live tree of life representing the beauty and spirit of a woman I’ll never forget.  

Author and Olympian

Amy gamble

I’m a former Olympian who loves to write. I write about topics related to mental health. I’m speaking from my heart about the topic of grief as a way to heal. I also want to help normalize the topic, as holding in or ignoring emotions aren’t good for our mental health.

Amy’s Author page

A recipe for my grief soup

by Amy Gamble, posted in Uncategorized

My recipe for grief soup is full of sorrow, a cup of joyful memories, three cups of peaceful silence, a dash of acceptance, a dash of denial and a pound of tears. 

The first element is sorrow which turns into sadness as I pour it into the pot. In a very slow cook, the sadness thickens as the pound of tears gets added to the mix causing it to boil. Then, a moment of steam clearing happens as I turn down the heat and relieve the pressure by taking off the lid. I breathe deeply and allow myself to feel the steam.   

And then as the tears dissolve a joyful memory is added. It goes into the pot and I laugh as I’m reminded that my grief soup doesn’t only contain sorrow, but it also contains joy. My heart is filled up thinking about how long I need to let the joy simmer. When the joy permeates the other elements, I add a dash of acceptance. 

Sometimes when I make the soup I overcook the sorrow and the sadness tastes overwhelming. To balance this out I over correct and add to much denial. Too many dashes of denial blunts the sorrow and makes the pound of tears seem like they are ridiculous to add. Denial is the element that causes a resistance to what is and blocks the flavor of acceptance.

After the joy is added, peaceful silence begins to pull all the elements together. Solidifying each and every element and allowing me to taste all of the ingredients.

If I took my grief to lunch I’d talk about all the elements of joy and sorrow and how they both belong in my grief soup.

Author and Olympian

Amy gamble

Amy is an author, former Olympian and a person recovering from the recent loss of her dear mother. She’s writing for healing and to feel all the feelings. She hopes you’ll find one thing relatable in what she’s sharing.

www.amygambleauthor.com