I lost a love. A dream was shattered. Broken Dreams.
There’s been a lot of that lately. Has it happened to you? What did you do?
Most likely, you pushed the pain down and soldiered on. But the pain didn’t go away, did it? It’s a little lump somewhere. In your heart, your belly, the ache between your shoulders. The heaviness or fatigue.
We haven’t been given permission to grieve-the-loss of a dream. We never learned at school how to deal with disappointment. Try harder. Suck it up. Do better next time. Or worse still, I remember getting 94% on a math test and my father sitting with me. We went over every single bloody question and answer. To find that missing 6%, so I wouldn’t FAIL again.
(I’d imagined accolades, praise and celebrations. Approval.)
We push the pain away.
The harder we fight not-to-grieve the bigger the pain grows.
But the loss of a dream is also the loss of a love.
The missed wedding, family get-together. Drinks with friends down the pub. The vacation we’d planned. The job opportunity that slipped away. Time with the grandkids. The baby who left before it even began life. Illness and sickness robbing us of our dreams. Rules and regulations breaking our spirits as we watch dreams drift away.
We all experience loss at some time. It’s part of life. But the past year and a half has seen a lot of dreams die.
The loss of a dream is also the loss of a love. Something we cherished. Something that sustained us. As real, my darling, as any other love.
By acknowledging the loss. Accepting our hurts. We give ourselves the grace to grieve. We don’t have closure. But we have changed.
I see how brave you’ve been. But do you?
Honour your precious feelings. They’re real. They are grief.
All of them: shock, denial, physical and emotional pain. Guilt and anger. Bargaining and depression. Deep sadness and futility. We lose direction and focus. At times we lose hope. Our spiritual path may be challenged. And these emotions don’t come in a nice neat package. Grief is messy.
Don’t stuff your feelings. They’ll come back to bite you. Sure, it’s not appropriate to sit and sob the rest of your life away. But it is perfectly acceptable to have a good cry. To rage at the Great Goodness. To eat a pint of ice cream. And to talk.
Talk to a friend.
Or a counselor or life coach. Your priest, or spiritual advisor. Other people you know who have gone through the same broken dreams.
Even social media has its merits. Just not your public page. Join a group of like-minded people. Stay away from the Negative Nellies. And delete the friends and followers who make you cringe. It’s a time for supportive people.
That’s not the ‘think positive thoughts and all will be well’ people. And definitely get away from ‘now why did you attract this experience?’ peeps. They’re really good at helping you get stuck in a guilt/powerless cycle. Delete. Block. Yes, there’s a time for reflection. But when you are in grief mode this type of thinking actually causes a lot of damage.
The grief of broken dreams is hard enough, so remember you don’t have to do it alone.
You are never alone.
New paths will open. New dreams will gently appear. There are always rainbows ahead. Don’t force yourself to see them, let them reveal themselves to you. I promise they will appear when you accept your grief and stop fighting the pain.
Use the free resources here on the site. These are my gift to you. When I’m able, I open up spaces for my Tea for Two Complimentary Consultations. Check in with me if that feels like something you’d like to explore. And I’ve always room for one more client who’d like to start Feeling Absolutely Fabulous.
This morning, in the midst of our (hopefully) end-of-winter storm, as the wind rages relentlessly and the ice builds up on the patio door, I was prompted to check your web site. Specifically, I was looking for wisdom in your words to have conversations with two women I have been working with as they deal with loss and fear. I found so much more… I am the child who achieved a 96% average on a report card, whose father’s comments back to the teacher read “We are very pleased with this report, but we know that Heather can do better.” I dropped out of school at 17 and got married, not because I “had to” as they said in the old days, but because I could. It took every day of my life since then to become the woman I am today and, as I reflect back on those decades, I am grateful. I am never alone, and I am grateful to be able to carry a message of hope to other women. And I’m also grateful to meet women like you in whom grief has transmuted into courageous fabulousness, endless compassion, and a determination to celebrate the joy of this messy thing called life.
We are not alone. Although as a child this doesn’t feel the way. Well done for becoming whole and living your best life. We are all just walking each other home. Big love