TIPS FROM THE QUEEN OF REJECTION ®
June, 2008
IN THIS ISSUE
1. Coping with Sudden and Unexpected Loss
2. The Damned Ugliest Dog I Ever Saw
3. Honoring, Nurturing and Preserving Friendships
4. A Turning Point
5. Contacting Elayne
6. Privacy Notice and Subscription Information
Coping with Sudden and Unexpected Loss
By Elayne Savage, PhD
I lost my long-time friend Bill a few days ago. It was sudden and
unexpected. A stroke. He was dead before the day was over.
Bill is the first of my close peers to die. It's hitting me hard.
Bill and I were San Francisco Social Workers. We knew each other
casually in the late 60's. We'd pass in the hall, nod and go about
our business.
Then one day we rode the elevator together. "Hey, I hear you're a
Scorpio chick" he said in his quiet, measured way. Turns out we
both have November birthdays.
That conversation was the beginning of a Scorpio bond that has
lasted 40 years.
Somewhere along the way (25 or so years ago) we started
exchanging birthday cards. We never missed a year.
The Damned Ugliest Dog I Ever Saw
Our friendship grew when we were assigned to the same Child
Welfare Unit and we ended up sitting next to each other.
We didn't get much work done, but we talked a lot. Mostly
about our fears, our disappointments, our dreams, our fantasies.
And we exchanged some secrets, too.
One day Bill told me about his household pet. A wolf. What a
tip-off to how unique and unusual my desk mate really was. He
grinned that sly Bill grin and quoted his landlady, "That's the
damned ugliest dog I ever saw."
We did a lot of grousing about the system and the bosses and how
frustrating it was trying to make a difference with the families
we served. Thankless work, difficult work environment, but we
could support and make a difference for each other.
I learned some fascinating stuff about Bill from our wonderful
talks.
And I learned so much FROM him as well. He taught me many life
lessons.
He showed me how to figure out what the mood of the day would
be in our unit. How we could 'read' our supervisor's mood by
listening to the sound of how she walked into the office.
(Actually, this lesson refreshed an old skill I'd developed
as a child when I leaned to 'read' my parents moods and to
stay out of their way.)
One day Bill talked to me about how he was preparing for lunch
with an old friend. He carefully thought out questions in advance
that he could ask during his time with his friend. He actually
strategized the conversation. Wow. I've always totally flown by
the seat of my pants. What a revelation in conversation
possibilities.
Bill taught me how to stay sane in an insane work environment.
He taught me how to relax a little and not take my job (or myself)
so seriously.
And he taught me how to not take things so personally as well.
And that was decades before I wrote the 'Don't Take it Personally!'
book! Imagine that.
Mostly I'm grateful to Bill for opening my perspective on viewing
the world. His take on things and reflections has truly illuminated
new terrain for me over the years.
It's been 25 years since I Ieft that toxic work environment. Bill retired a
few years after I left.
Honoring, Nurturing and Preserving Friendships
I wish we had kept in touch more often. Sometimes years passed
without face-to-face contact.
Yet there were always the birthday cards.
These last years, sometimes he'd warn me a card might be a little late
because he and his wife Tuzie were in Russia or Ireland or Australia.
But the card always arrived. And it was always special. In fact, every
one was unusual. Very Bill.
And I got to choose a card to send him each year too. Shopping
for a card for him was an adventure. I put a lot of energy into
finding the 'right' statement that would honor Bill's spirit and
uniqueness.
Each friendship has its own specialness and cadence and energy.
Sometimes it's not necessary to be in direct or even frequent
contact with someone we care about.
The essence of that person is infused into our heart, mind and soul.
They become part of our being.
Bill was such a person for me. Bigger than life. And we always
seemed to be able to pick up where we left off.
Much of our contact this last year and a half has been around
my e-letters. I've loved receiving emails with his thoughtful
reflections. He'd say how something I wrote 'struck a chord' for
him.
And he'd write me his thoughts at 3 or 4am, recounting how his
memories came flooding back about a particular life experience.
Or about some conundrum. Or some vision or hope.
So now I'm struggling with the realization that there won't be
anymore thoughtful email exchanges. Or birthday cards. Or walks
and talks about the meaning of life. Recently we experienced a
new kind of bond when I joined Bill in the ranks of
grandparenthood. There won't be any more conversations about
that, either.
A Turning Point
As I said earlier, Bill is the first of my close peers to die.
His death has brought home a reminder of the preciousness of
friendship.
I’m such an old hand at experiencing loss. I'm a little surprised
I’m having such a hard time with the loss of Bill.
I was out of town when I got the voicemail message from a friend
of his family asking me to call Bill's wife. When you get a
message like that, you know something big is up. I was totally
unprepared when Bill's wife Tuzie told me he'd had 'a massive
cerebral hemorrhage' and died the same day.
You may be thinking that my struggle with Bill's death is about
my own mortality. You are right. His death brings me face to face
with my own fears. Big time.
After all, Bill was just a few years older than me. And here's
something else as well. Something I've never told anyone. When
I was 7 years old my mom told me the story of a neighbor kid who
died of a brain hemorrhage. Looking back, I can see she was most
likely passing along to me her own anxiety about this child's
death. I grew up believing such a thing could happen to me too.
And now it has happened to Bill. So the fears of that 7-year-old
just came alive. In living color.
There's another even bigger fear present as well. My overwhelming
fear of abandonment - that people I care about will leave. I’m
especially vulnerable when partings are sudden or unexpected.
Some of you know about the plane crash that took my mother and
grandmother when I was twelve. Each time I endure a loss, I relive
the fears of that child.
Poof. They are gone and I'm alone. And the burning question
endures: "What's going to happen to me?"
Losses come in so many shapes, sizes, textures and colorations.
And big or small, they tend to stockpile. The layers build, just
waiting to reappear whenever the next loss to appears. In order to
grieve a loss and move on, we have to make the loss real.
I guess I'm doing this by immersing myself in memories of Bill and
in saved email correspondence from him, and as I write this now.
These losses and fears are swirling around me as I write. A blast
of chill air starts in the pit of my stomach, moves to the small
of my back, up my spine to the nape of my neck and across my
shoulders.
There are moments when it's difficult to breathe. I want to
open the window and take in big gulps of air.
I want to cry, but the sound gets stuck in my throat. It comes out
as a moan. Sometimes it sounds more like a wail.
Plaintive. Forlorn. Aching.
And at the same time, I can see that my way of dealing with the
loss of Bill is a turning point for me. I can see how my ability
to take care of myself now is quite different then in times past.
That 12 year old couldn't ask for help. And when it was offered,
couldn't or wouldn't accept it. The person I am now seeks support
and comfort from people in my life. And yesterday when someone
I know heard about my loss and offered me a hug, I could receive
it. It felt good.
So Bill, I guess I can thank you for that too.
For more about loss and abandonment, go to
http://queenofrejection.typepad.com/tips/2007/08/index.html
For more about making loss real, go to
http://queenofrejection.typepad.com/tips/2007/10/index.html
I'd love to share more of Bill's essence with you. You can
learn more about him at
http://www.legacy.com/SFGate/DeathNotices.asp?Page=LifeStory&PersonId=111767191
'Til next month,
Elayne
© 2008 Elayne Savage, PhD
Elayne Savage is the author of books published in 9 languages.
You can order books and CDs directly from my website now.
http://www.QueenofRejection.com/publications.htm
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WITH REJECTION from Amazon:
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REPRINTING THESE e-LETTERS
You can use the articles in 'Tips from The Queen of Rejection'®
as long as you include a complete attribution and, whenever
possible, a live link to my website. Please notify me where and
when the material will appear.
The attribution should include this information:
Elayne Savage, Ph.D. is a communication coach, professional
speaker, practicing psychotherapist and author. To find out
more about her programs, and services visit
http://www.QueenofRejection.com
or call 510-540-6230
Contacting Elayne
I welcome your feedback as well as suggestions for topics you'd
like to see addressed in this e-letter.
Here's how you can reach me:
Elayne Savage
elayne@QueenofRejection.com
510-540-6230, 2607 Alcatraz Avenue, Berkeley, CA 94708
