Tag Archives: Grief

Counseling Connoisseur: Thanatechnology – Grief and loss in a digital world

By Cheryl Fisher June 8, 2018

Thanatechnology: Any kind of technology that can be used to deal with death, dying, grief, loss and illness.

 

Kelly (an alias), an eighth-grader, sits with her friends in the school auditorium as her principal calls out the names of each of her classmates who were killed in the recent shooting. To honor the lives of these young people, the school is hosting a remembrance ceremony. As tears run down her face, Kelly huddles close to her schoolmates and clicks away on her phone posting messages on several social network sites and a memorial site that she and her friends created. A text message pops up from a boy she met on one of the sites. He is a survivor of a school shooting that happened a couple of years ago — he understands.

Tony’s (alias) phone vibrates, rousing him from his slumber. He looks at the clock – it’s 2 a.m. He has to be up for school in just a few hours. He squints, trying to read the alert on his phone. Another teenager has died from drug overdose. He heaves a mournful sigh and turns on the bedside lamp. His phone begins to blow up with social media posts. The deceased didn’t attend his school but is related to his girlfriend’s best friend. Tony attempts to return to sleep, but he keeps thinking about the teenager [and] wondering why it happened.

Without a doubt, the youth of today are often exposed to significant and traumatic losses. Traditionally, we have marked death with rituals such as funerals and memorials and grieved with the support of counseling, faith communities and neighbors. In more recent years, technology has provided additional ways to remember and mourn, such as creating online memorials, seeking distant or virtual grief counseling and connecting with family, friends and even strangers without geographical limitations. It erases time and distance and allows for virtual experiences and expressions that promote a narrative that lives forever.

Digital Presence and Youth

In Dying, Death, and Grief in an Online Universe, researchers Kathleen R. Gilbert and Michael Massimi observe that digital technology can “bring people together for social support, provide information, and offer a venue for conducting grief work such as telling stories or building digital memorials.”

In another section of the book, researcher Carla Sofka writes that young people are even more likely to seek grief support online. Sofka explains that the internet, social media and other digital platforms are where younger generations are most comfortable because they provide opportunities for social interaction; a sense of independence and privacy; the ability to express and form their own identity; a sense of community that includes those that are marginalized; and instant alerts and communication. All of these elements allow youth to seek and find like-minded communities that can provide immediate support and strategies for coping with myriad life issues — including death and dying, and grief and loss.

 

Social Interaction

Online bereavement forums and chat rooms provide a sense of social connection with users. Sites such as Caring Bridge allow multiple users to maintain a virtual journal offering information and capturing narratives that are accessible to members. Tumblr, Facebook and Instagram create spaces where youth can just “hang out.” Video calling technology such as FaceTime and Skype bridge the distance between users and promote interaction and communication. Additionally, grief counseling may be offered via video, phone, chat or email formats.

Independence and Sense of Privacy

Teens turn to technology to carve out a private space for self-expression. However, research indicates that internet use often provides the illusion of anonymity, which may encourage a false sense of privacy. The struggle for privacy is nothing new: The tension between privacy and personal expression has existed between teens and parents for decades. In It’s Complicated: The Social Lives of Networked Teens, danah boyd*, principal researcher at Microsoft Research notes that social media introduced a new dimension to this age-old power struggle. Instead of worrying about what teens wear outside, parents are concerned about what pictures teens are posting about what they wear outside.

[*boyd prefers to spell her name with lowercase letters.]

“Although teens grapple with managing their identity and navigating youth-centric communities while simultaneously maintaining spaces for intimacy, they do so under the spotlight of a media ecosystem designed to publicize every teen fad, moral panic, and new hyped technology,” writes boyd.

Yet, online spaces allow for exploration of feelings and thoughts, examination of death anxiety, and expression of grief and loss. For example, a 14 year- old client crafted an entire mix of music and prose around the complicated emotions she experienced related to the death of her estranged father who had abused her as a little girl. Using an alias, she posted the eulogy online and watched as strangers connected with her, validating her feelings and experience.

Expression and Influence of Identity Formation

The internet provides creative space for expressing grief and honoring loved ones. Sites such as KIDSAID.com, offer children the opportunity to connect, interact and creatively express their grief. In addition to expressive sites and online memorial services such as Legacy, Remembered.com and Your Tribute provide an unfettered opportunity to honor loss, especially for those who are marginalized or disenfranchised. The use of letters, photos and sound provide rich and detailed memorials that allow users to express their grief, absorb their loss and ultimately move forward.

Sense of Community

Blogs provide a venue to capture experiences and to cultivate topic-based virtual communities. Boyd suggests that these constructed networks serve as a public place to interact with real and imagined communities, thus satisfying a desire to be part of a broader world.

Instant Alerts

Online communication is often in real time. Twitter, Snapchat and a variety of other digital sites offer instant notifications and ongoing engagement. Technology allows users to gather multiple streams of almost instantaneous information from afar. For example, recently I was at a social gathering where a young woman, glued to her phone, was continuously texting. At one point I interjected, “Is everything alright?” She looked up and shook her head. “No, I have a friend who was just in a car accident and the medics are transporting her to shock trauma. Her parents are on their way to the hospital — but no one thinks she’s going to make it.”

The accident occurred in another state, yet this young woman was experiencing the event minute by minute via her phone messaging.

There are numerous attractive features to thanatechnology. Information is persistent and endures. There is a sense of immortality and legacy when a person’s comments, photos and work is posted in cyberspace. It is visible to infinite numbers of individuals. It is spreadable, and with one repost or share, hundreds more are invited into our experience. It is searchable. Just yesterday someone emailed me after reading my article on pet loss and grief. She had been Googling information about pet loss and my article popped up. I was able to provide her with additional support resources.

While there are many helpful aspects of using technology for grief support, there are some serious causes for pause. Are the online interactions healthy? Who is actually participating in the network communities? Are youth oversharing personal information while in a vulnerable state? How pervasive are social divisions and are they perpetuated in the participating forums?

Clinicians, parents and educators must be digitally literate and provide opportunities for genuine face to face connection while acknowledging the cyberworld of teens. Using technology during this very vulnerable time can provide tremendous support and healing, but it may pose risks. Counselors have the responsibility to help youth develop the skills to navigate technology in a way that creates a safe environment for their grief experience and promotes bereavement support.

 

 

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Cheryl Fisher

Cheryl Fisher is a licensed clinical professional counselor in private practice in Annapolis, Maryland. She is director and assistant professor for Alliant International University California School of Professional Psychology’s online MA in Clinical Counseling.  Her research interests include examining sexuality and spirituality in young women with advanced breast cancer; nature-informed therapy: and geek therapy. She may be contacted at cyfisherphd@gmail.com.

 

 

 

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Opinions expressed and statements made in articles appearing on CT Online should not be assumed to represent the opinions of the editors or policies of the American Counseling Association.

When post-abortion emotions need unpacking

By Bethany Bray April 3, 2018

Catherine Beckett, an American Counseling Association member with a private practice in Portland, Oregon, has made it a habit to avoid using “must” phrases with clients. “It sends a message to the client about what they’ve experienced,” says Beckett, who specializes in grief counseling. “I don’t ever want to say, ‘Oh, you must feel so guilty,’ or ‘You must feel so isolated,’ because that may not be the case at all.”

A case in point: when clients reveal in counseling that they have had an abortion at some point in their past. Some clients consider that experience to be just another piece of their life story, free of any negative associations. For others, the experience can evoke a range of issues, from spiritual and familial turmoil to attachment difficulties and feelings of loss. When dealing with such a highly charged topic, counselors must be prepared to put their own personal views aside to support clients who fall into either camp — and those who present a range of emotions in between.

Research cited by an American Psychological Association task force found that the majority of women who elect to have an abortion will not experience mental health difficulties afterward (see apa.org/pi/women/programs/abortion/). In February 2017, JAMA Psychiatry published a study titled “Women’s mental health and well-being 5 years after receiving or being denied an abortion.” The study observed 956 women over the course of five years, including 231 who initially were turned away from abortion facilities. Among the authors’ conclusions: “In this study, compared with having an abortion, being denied an abortion may be associated with greater risk of initially experiencing adverse psychological outcomes. Psychological well-being improved over time so that both groups of women eventually converged. These findings do not support policies that restrict women’s access to abortion on the basis that abortion harms women’s mental health.”

Even though most women will not experience long-term mental health problems after an abortion, some may still endure feelings of loss or encounter other negative emotions caused by external factors such as culture or family. For certain clients, a past abortion experience, whether it took place one month ago or decades ago, can be at the root of a range of issues — low self-esteem, relationship problems, disenfranchised grief — that surface during counseling sessions.

Beckett notes that most of the women she works with aren’t questioning their decision to have an abortion but rather “struggling to process it and place it in the narrative of their own lives in a way that feels comfortable.”

“As a practitioner, you should know about [abortion] and understand that within the population you’re seeing, it’s probably in their story,” says Jennie Brightup, a licensed clinical marriage and family therapist in private practice outside of Wichita, Kansas. “You need to be prepared to know how to work with it.”

Counselors should approach the revelation of an abortion just like any other experience or issue that clients may have in their histories, Brightup says. “Have an open mind. Allow it to be something that can be a problem for your client. See that it could be an issue … [and] have some knowledge about how to treat it.”

‘You think you’re alone’

The Guttmacher Institute, a reproductive health research organization, estimates that in 2014 (the most recent data available), 926,200 abortions were performed among women between the ages of 15 and 44 in the United States. This comes out to a rate of 14.6 abortions per 1,000 women.

The institute notes that this marks America’s lowest abortion rate since the process was legalized nationwide by the Roe v. Wade Supreme Court decision in 1973. The U.S. abortion rate has seen a steady decline after peaking in 1980 and 1981 at close to 30 abortions per 1,000 women. Using the 2014 data, the Guttmacher Institute extrapolates that 5 percent of U.S. women will have an abortion by age 20; 19 percent will have an abortion by age 30; and 24 percent will have an abortion by age 45.

Abortion is more common than many people, including mental health practitioners, think, says Trudy Johnson, a licensed marriage and family therapist who presented on “Choice Processing and Resolution: Bringing Abortion After-Care Into the 21st Century at ACA’s 2012 Conference & Expo in San Francisco. Johnson, who had an abortion in college, says that for many people, processing the abortion experience is “a slow burn. It doesn’t affect you until later on. [Many] women have had an abortion, but you think you’re alone. You don’t feel you get to grieve it. … It’s a gut-level thing, a tender place. Many have never told a soul,” says Johnson, who specializes in trauma resolution, including abortion-related issues.

Connecting issues

For clients who have yet to process and place a past abortion into their self-narrative, it can feel like a sadness that they can’t quite pinpoint or define. “It’s kind of like a phantom pain. It’s there, but you don’t know why,” Johnson says.

Clients with a variety of presenting issues may have unprocessed emotions surrounding a past abortion that could be compounding their struggles, Johnson says. These issues can include:

  • Depression and anxiety
  • Complicated grief
  • Anger
  • Shame and guilt (especially shame that is undefined or has no apparent cause)
  • Self-loathing and self-esteem issues
  • Relationship issues (including destructive relationships)
  • Destructive behaviors (including substance abuse)

For certain clients, their unprocessed emotions can feel like a weight they have carried and buried deep within themselves for a long time without sharing it with anyone, Johnson says.

Johnson recalls one client who initially came for couples counseling with her husband but eventually started seeing Johnson for individual counseling. During a session, Johnson recognized that the woman was becoming upset, so she handed her a blanket and pillow for comfort. The client put the blanket over her head, obscuring her face, and disclosed that she had had an abortion 18 years prior. Her family had shamed her for the decision, and her feelings of shame were still so overwhelming that putting the blanket over her head was the only way she could bring herself to talk about the experience, Johnson recounts.

“You just can’t imagine the shame that [some of] these clients carry,” says Johnson, a private practitioner who splits her time between Arizona and Tennessee. “They just have to talk about it. We, as professionals, can be that safe place.”

Clients who have had abortions sometimes question whether they have the right to grieve because there was a choice involved to terminate their pregnancies, says Beckett, who is an adjunct faculty member in the doctoral counseling program at Oregon State University. The concept of the experience of disenfranchised grief — those who are not supported in their grief because it is not culturally recognized or validated — applies in these instances, Beckett says. In fact, the disenfranchisement can be both external (a loss not recognized by the client’s culture) and internal (a loss that the client, individually, does not recognize).

“People do not have the same kind of support and validation [to grieve a loss] when they’re disenfranchised, and that is a huge part of abortion grief,” Beckett says. “The emotional aftermath is so impacted by spiritual, political and ethical values and beliefs. That will really color how they process it and how much they’re able to reach out and get support. This all needs to go into our assessment of a client. What was their experience, but also how are they talking to themselves about it? All of that should inform how we offer support.”

Broaching the subject

Practitioners might want to consider asking clients (female and male) about pregnancy loss, including abortion, on intake forms. Brightup asks clients about past pregnancy loss in a genogram exercise she does in the first few sessions of counseling. If the client mentions an abortion, she simply makes a note and keeps going. It is not a topic she feels a need to jump on immediately, she says, and she doesn’t want to risk retraumatizing clients or prompting them to talk about it if they are not ready. Some clients may not mention an abortion on an intake form or genogram because they don’t consider it a loss or associate it with trauma, Brightup says. Others have buried the issue so deep that they don’t think about it or feel that it is worth mentioning, she adds.

“When you’re hearing their story, you can find places to check in and ask questions. Most of the time, I allow them to come around and tell me. It’s a core secret. If you feel [judgmental] to them, they’ll never tell you and they’ll run [stop coming to therapy],” says Brightup, a certified eye movement desensitization and reprocessing (EMDR) therapist.

Practitioner language is also important, Beckett notes. “For some people, asking [if they have an abortion in their past] is giving them permission to talk about it. And the way we ask about it may give them clues about whether or not it is safe to talk to us about it,” she says. “For example, there’s a difference between, ‘Is this something you have experience with?’ and ‘Well, you haven’t had an abortion, have you?’”

Even the word “abortion” can provoke an intense reaction for some clients, Johnson says. In some cases, she will use the phrase “pregnancy termination” or even “the A word” with clients who feel triggered and begin to close themselves off.

“You might need to say it differently,” Johnson advises. “Abortion immediately turns it into a political, socially charged [issue]. Changing the terminology helps it to be safer.”

The key is to foster a safe, trusted bond so that clients will feel free to bring the topic up themselves when they are ready, Johnson says. “The most important thing is building a relationship of safety,” she emphasizes.

Different points on a path

Clients who disclose having an abortion in their past may vary widely on how they feel about the procedure and how much they have processed those feelings.

“There are clients who will come in and do not report having any mental health issues related to their abortion experience. Understand that they’re out there. But the other side is out there too,” Brightup says. Practitioners must be prepared to work with clients who express either sentiment — or a range of feelings in between.

Counselors should watch their clients’ body language and other cues, especially in cases in which a client is emphatic or even defensive when talking about an abortion. It is wise to unpack the client’s experience and associated feelings over time, Brightup says.

If counselors disagree with a client’s assertions concerning how she feels about the procedure, “you can lose the client because they won’t come back [to therapy],” she says. “Agree with their narrative. In little pieces, once they trust you, you can come back to the story and probe a little, ask a few questions as gently and carefully as you can.”

Some clients will have fit the abortion into their self-narrative and moved on, whereas others won’t be as far along in the journey. Still others will have worked through their feelings surrounding the procedure in a healthy way previously but may find themselves struggling with it again as they move into another life stage such as pregnancy or motherhood, Beckett says.

This was the case for one of Beckett’s clients who sought counseling because she was struggling with powerful emotions that had resurfaced. The client had undergone an abortion when she was 17. Later in her life, she had a daughter, and that daughter was now turning 17 herself. Even though her daughter wasn’t facing any type of decision regarding pregnancy or abortion, her age triggered feelings in the client that needed more therapeutic attention.

The client’s abortion had been illegal at the time where she lived, so she had felt compelled to keep it a secret, Beckett explains. The client realized her daughter was now the age she had been when she had an abortion. “The mother saw, for the first time, how young she [had been] and how desperately she had needed love and support at the time, and she didn’t get it,” Beckett says. The realization was “exquisitely painful” for the client, but at the same time, it brought “a new level of compassion for her 17-year-old self,” Beckett recounts.

“She took a great deal of comfort in knowing that if her daughter were to get pregnant, it would be an entirely different experience. Her daughter would have the support of her family and better care,” Beckett says.

The hard work of unpacking

Just as clients will differ in the work they have done — or haven’t done — to process the emotions surrounding an abortion, the support and interventions they might need from a counselor will also vary.

“People grieve very differently, and we need to be ready to support people however they are doing it,” Beckett says. “Some people are going to want to take action or give back somehow. Others will respond to more creative processes or ritual creation. Others will want a quiet, safe place to process.”

Normalizing a client’s experience can be a much-needed first step. Beckett says that talking about how common abortion is, and the fact that many people feel a need to process their feelings afterward, can bring relief to clients. Practitioners can also help clients reframe their thoughts to realize that feelings of relief after the procedure are common, as is a fear of judgment and a sense of isolation that can accompany that fear.

“Figure out what this particular client’s experience is and then, if appropriate, offer normalization of that,” Beckett says. “Support them to determine what is needed to move them toward greater comfort and peace. Offer them ideas and support around getting those things that they need.”

In Brightup’s experience, post-abortion work with clients often falls into four quadrants:

  • Reconciling how clients feel about themselves
  • Engaging in grief work around how clients perceive and feel about the loss (if they do indeed view it as a loss)
  • Working through clients’ spiritual issues or any inner tensions related to “rules” that were broken
  • Working on clients’ relationships and how they relate to people: Are there areas that need healing?

From there, practitioners should tailor their approaches to meet each client’s individual needs and pacing, Brightup says. She often uses sand tray therapy as a tool to help clients talk about post-abortion loss and find closure. Journaling, writing letters or poems, creating art and engaging in other creative outlets can also be helpful, she says. Certain clients may respond to creating some kind of physical memorial or taking time out of a counseling session to do a remembrance with just the two of you, Brightup adds.

Beckett agrees that counselors should collaborate with clients to find a ritual or activity that works for them. Although many clients will make progress through talk therapy or by connecting in group work to those who have had similar experiences, others will feel a need to take some kind of action, Beckett says. Creating memorials and rituals, writing letters or participating in other creative interventions can help these clients to process their emotions and experiences.

For one of Beckett’s clients, healing involved creating a special ritual on what would have been her child’s due date. Each year, the client would be intentional about spending time with a child — whether a niece or a nephew or the child of a friend — who was the same age that her child would have been.

“She came in pretty soon after her abortion, and she knew she needed help to process it,” Beckett says. “She wasn’t questioning the decision, but she was having trouble [with the fact] that her life would move forward but the life of the baby she had not had wouldn’t move forward. She wrote a letter to that baby expressing her caring and regret and explaining why she felt she couldn’t bring him or her into the world. Every year on her due date, she would find a way to connect with a child she knew that would be that age. She would spend time with that child and make it a good day for them.”

Whereas this intervention helped this particular client to find peace, “for other clients, the thought of that would seem hellish,” Beckett stresses. “There’s no prescription for this. It’s a process of figuring out what is still remaining and needs to be released. Talk with the
client to find creative ways to be able to do that.”

Counselors can help clients navigate areas in which they feel emotionally stuck, Beckett explains. For example, one of her clients was struggling even though she had worked through many of the emotions she had experienced after an abortion. The client had three children, and when she became pregnant with a fourth, she and her partner made the decision to terminate the pregnancy.

“There was one part that she couldn’t get OK with: ‘I see myself as someone who takes care of others,’” Beckett says. “That’s where we focused: How did she define ‘taking care’? How did this decision threaten her self-concept? We dove into that area and she eventually realized that terminating the pregnancy was taking care of her fourth child. That was the best way to take care of that child, instead of bringing the child into an already-overwhelmed system that wouldn’t have been able to provide what the child needed.”

Johnson finds narrative therapy a useful approach when focusing on post-abortion issues with clients. Giving them the freedom to tell the story of their abortion — how old they were, how it happened, who came with them that day — can be powerful, she says. Sometimes clients won’t remember the details about their abortion because they’ve blocked them out, Johnson says, but as they open up and talk about the experience in therapy, they often start to recall things.

“This has been in their head for years. When they finally start talking about it, they go on and on because that’s [often] what they need,” Johnson says. “You can see the layers coming off as they’re processing it verbally, the whole story. … Letting them talk about the details and tell their story is a starting point.”

When relevant, Johnson also helps clients identify all the points of grief connected to the abortion beyond the loss of a pregnancy. For example, clients might have experienced a breakup with their romantic partners or the breakdown of a relationship with their parents or other family members either leading up to or after the abortion. Giving clients permission to grieve and accept the loss of these things is an important step, Johnson says.

There are “so many layers to this. The main thing [for counselors] is being a safe place. The impact of a hidden abortion could really be affecting the outcome of your therapy if it’s not addressed. Be aware that there could be this issue under all of the other stuff [the presenting issues],” Johnson says.

“Treat this as a disenfranchised and complicated grief situation, and take out all the political mess and pros and cons,” she continues. “The client has already made a choice. Let’s forget about that and just work on the grief. They’re not the same person that they were when they made the choice. They’re a different person now, so they need to have permission to revisit that time in their life and be free of it. The therapist is kind of a vessel of freedom for that, and it’s a wonderful place. … You’re helping them overcome the bondage, pain and grief that’s been with them for so long.”

Putting personal feelings aside

Abortion remains one of the most politically and socially polarizing issues in modern-day America. Despite this — or, in some cases, because of this — certain clients are going to need to work through issues related to abortion in the counseling office. A practitioner’s role is to be a support through it all, regardless of his or her own personal views on the topic.

Brightup urges counselors to rely on their training, which includes setting personal opinions aside and being what the client needs.

Creating a neutral and welcoming space for clients to talk about such a sensitive topic is paramount, Johnson agrees. “If you don’t have any experience working in this area, you can do more damage without meaning to,” she says. “Or, for some people, there’s a hidden implication that if you help a client through feelings related to an abortion, you’re condoning abortion.” That is simply not true, she stresses.

Beckett agrees. “Clients need a safe and nonjudgmental space to share [about their abortion experience], and that’s hard for some counselors based on their own belief system. It’s not going to be easy for all counselors — that affirmation of [the client’s] right to grieve. [But] a client needs support to determine what is needed to move them toward greater comfort and peace. Offer them ideas and support around getting those things that they need.”

 

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Disclosing an innermost secret

As clients process post-abortion emotions, they may struggle with the decision to tell others, including a current or former partner. What should a counselor’s role be in that process? Read more in our online-exclusive article: wp.me/p2BxKN-54z

 

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Related resources

  • The upcoming ACA 2018 Conference & Expo in Atlanta includes an education session titled “Compassion and Self-compassion: Therapeutic Approaches to Heal From Grief and Loss” (Saturday, April 28, 7:30 a.m.). See the full conference program at counseling.org/conference.
  • For more on the mandate for counselors to practice competent, nonjudgmental care, refer to the 2014 ACA Code of Ethics at counseling.org/knowledge-center/ethics/code-of-ethics-resources. ACA members with specific questions can schedule a free ethics consultation by calling 800-347-6647 ext. 321 or emailing ethics@counseling.org.
  • Interested in networking with other ACA members on this and other related issues? ACA has interest networks that focus on women’s issues, grief and bereavement, sexual wellness and other topics. Find out more at counseling.org/aca-community/aca-groups/interest-networks.

 

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Bethany Bray is a staff writer and social media coordinator for Counseling Today. Contact her at bbray@counseling.org.

Letters to the editorct@counseling.org

 

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Opinions expressed and statements made in articles appearing on CT Online should not be assumed to represent the opinions of the editors or policies of the American Counseling Association.

 

Pain to purpose

By Kelly D. Farley May 5, 2017

Burying a child is not something that most people think about — until they must do it. I’ve done it twice, and I must say, I really do not know how I survived it. It has been more than 10 years, and I still do not truly comprehend the impact these events have had on my life.

It took me a while after the death of my children to realize that I needed help and that asking for help was not a sign of weakness. I reached a point where if I had any hope of surviving these losses, I needed to learn how to surrender. That meant I had to allow myself to be transparent and vulnerable — two words I was not comfortable with and did not truly understand.

Because of my lack of familiarity with transparency and vulnerability, the first step for me was acknowledging that I couldn’t do it by myself. I needed help. I had always prided myself on “handing things” on my own.

I will never know the damage I caused myself by not surrendering and asking for help soon after the deaths of my children. I still remember the pep talks I would give myself: “Keep pushing. You’ll get through this.”

But I didn’t, not by myself or by “handling things” my way. The tried-and-true approach to life that I had been taught and was convinced worked “if you only fought hard enough” no longer worked for me.

After 18 months of fighting, I finally threw in the towel and decided to seek help. It was the first time in my life I had considered going to a counselor, and it was only after a friend recommended it to me. I had no idea how a counselor could even help me, but I was finally willing to give it a try. I was desperate for the pain to subside, so I decided to stop fighting and surrender to the process of healing.

I learned many things through the process of working with a counselor. For one thing, I learned that I was dealing with more than just grief and depression. I was also dealing with posttraumatic stress disorder. I also learned that life is about more than just me and my needs. I started to see things from a different perspective and through a new lens. As I started to heal, I realized I had the ability to help others who had lost a child and were following in my footsteps.

I decided to make helping others through the death of a child one of my life missions. It gave me a purpose to pull others along in the aftermath of burying a child. I felt like I knew the way out, and it was my responsibility to go back and help other men find their way out as well.

I decided to do this by writing a book called Grieving Dads: To the Brink and Back. I also decided I would be an advocate and fight for other grieving families when I could. One of the first opportunities I had to do this was in 2011 when I met fellow grieving dad Barry Kluger. After several conversations, we realized there was something wrong with the three to five days of bereavement leave granted to most employees after losing a child. We both agreed that parents who bury a child need more time to comprehend what has happened to them and to their child. These parents’ lives are forever changed, and they need adequate time to start the very difficult path of surviving the loss of a child.

From these conversations, the idea for the Sarah Grace-Farley-Kluger Act (also known as the Parental Bereavement Act of 2017) was conceived. This legislation proposes a change to the Family Medical Leave Act of 1993 and would allow bereaved parents to take up to 12 weeks of unpaid time off after the death of their child without fear of losing their job.

Those of us who have lost a child understand that 12 weeks will not erase the pain that accompanies this loss. But we do believe that it allows bereaved parents the time to start the grieving process and seek the help they need to survive this nightmare.

Our mission is driven by our desire to provide compassion to others in their most vulnerable moments. We understand that we cannot do this on our own. We need help to get this commonsense legislation passed. We invite you to join us in our mission by contacting your representatives and senators and encouraging them to support this legislation. Together as one voice, we will get this done.

 

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To support the need for a Parental Bereavement Leave Act as a way of extending coverage and existing benefits allowed by the Family Medical Leave Act, visit FarleyKluger.com.

 

See the full text of the bill:

House bill: H.R.1560: congress.gov/bill/115th-congress/house-bill/1560/related-bills

Senate bill S.528: congress.gov/bill/115th-congress/senate-bill/528

 

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Kelly D. Farley is the author of Grieving Dads: To the Brink and Back. Visit grievingdads.com to learn more.

 

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Opinions expressed and statements made in articles appearing on CT Online should not be assumed to represent the opinions of the editors or policies of the American Counseling Association.

The Counseling Connoisseur: Pet loss: Lessons in grief

By Cheryl Fisher April 11, 2017

 

“Until one has loved an animal, a part of one’s soul remains unawakened.” — Anatole France

 

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On Jan. 22, following a three-week whirlwind diagnosis and decline, my husband and I said goodbye to our 6.5-year-old goldendoodle, Lily. Her disease had rendered this Frisbee-catching superstar unable to stand or walk. She needed to be carried outdoors to “get busy,” and she no longer had the stamina to stay awake for extended periods of time.

The author, Cheryl Fisher, with her dogs Max and Lily.

We spent the entire last weekend with Lily in the emergency room as she struggled against various gastrointestinal issues and, finally, internal bleeding. Her vet and neurologist felt that the disease had progressed and her prognosis was bleak. It was then that we made the most difficult decision we have ever made — to let her go. We took time lying with her, holding her, reminiscing … and stayed with her until her last heartbeat.

On the first day without our Lily, I kept tripping over my grief as I called out to see if she needed to go outside or wanted to lie by the window and watch “her birds.” Max, our 9-year-old goldendoodle, moped around the house, trying to sniff Lily out without success. He looked at me as if begging, “Bring her back, OK?” I canceled my clients for the day. I couldn’t imagine sitting with their pain as my pain continued streaming from my eyes.

I found myself returning to the little Catholic girl inside of me and lighting a candle next to a picture of our Lily that I had placed on the fireplace mantle. I wrote, announcing our loss to all 210 close friends on social media. I started a scrapbook and printed pictures long held captive in my iPhone. I cried continuously, as if the floodgates had been lifted and years and layers of grief came pouring out. All the losses in my life appeared to be resurrected with Lily’s death. My heart ached and my stomach hurt.

My attempts to prep for my classes that week proved futile. I just couldn’t concentrate. I kept reading the same sentence over and over again. Mostly I was just tired. Tired from three weeks of relentless caregiving, painstakingly attempting to keep the horrific disease at bay — the disease that stripped my beautiful bird-watching, tail-wagging, never-had-a-bad-day rescue pup of her mobility, energy and dignity. In the end those soulful eyes would beg me to end her suffering, and in keeping the promise I had made to her, I mercifully did, holding her till the end.

 

Tips for coping with the loss of a pet

Experiencing the death of a pet can be painful and devastating. Our pets are often our most vulnerable family members, relying on us completely for their care. This includes end-of-life care, which may involve making very difficult decisions about treatment and finally letting go. This adds complexity to grief because we may struggle with questions surrounding the decision to stop treatment and euthanize: Did I do enough? When is it time to let go?

1) Grief comes in waves. Initially the waves may be intense and relentless, pummeling us to the ground. We may feel that we will never breath (or stop crying) again. But with time and some work, the waves gradually recede, allowing us to stand and take tentative strides toward a “new normal.” Still, the waves will come and go, often crashing near a special day or at a moment when our dear fur-family member comes to mind.

2) Grief is brain work. Grief affects our neurology. It makes it difficult to concentrate. We forget things. We are easily irritated. We definitely are not on our A game. We may even feel like we are in a dream (or nightmare). Neurologically, we have taken a hit and require time to recover. Don’t worry. The grief fog will lift eventually. In the meantime, be gentle and kind with yourself.

3) Grief is an ever-changing chameleon. Elisabeth Kübler-Ross identified stages of grief related to dying that can also be applied to our experiences of grief and loss. These stages are no longer thought to happen in a linear manner. Rather, they are common experiences that can occur moment to moment as the result of grief.

Anger: Initially, I felt anger at the sudden deterioration of Lily. She had been running and playing catch just days before her back legs began to buckle under her body. Following an MRI and spinal taps, she was placed on a steroid treatment that quickly led to weight loss and gastric-intestinal discomfort. I was angry at the doctor. I was angry at the disease. I was angry at God.

Guilt: Although I knew I had responded quickly to Lily’s symptoms, I was plagued with self-doubt around the decision to use steroid treatment. Should we have gotten a second opinion? Should we have taken her to a holistic veterinarian? Ultimately, I ruminated over our decision to stop all care and put her to sleep. Was there more that we could have done? It was profoundly clear that the disease had progressed and Lily’s quality of life had suffered drastically, but I still experienced pangs of guilt.

Denial: The first few days were the most grueling. Walking in a daze, I still held some hope that this was all just a nightmare, and as I tripped over Lily’s misplaced toy, I would awaken to find both of our dogs curled at the foot of the bed.

Sadness: It is immensely sad to lose a love one — even a curly headed, wet-nosed, tail-wagging one. I am free with my tears in general, so I just let the emotions stream down my cheeks. Sadness, like grief, looks different for each individual. I am an emotional griever. I emote. My husband is an instrumental griever. He does research on the internet to seek answers. He walks our dog, schedules doggie play dates and arranges activities to help our other dog, Max, with his grief.

Acceptance: Ultimately, the hope is that there will be a sense of peace and understanding at some point and time. This may be experienced in fleeting moments rather than in an arrival at a destination, however.

4) Grief is individual. For me, Lily’s death overshadowed any other event occurring in the world. My Lily had died. Nothing else mattered to me. I crafted my coping strategy selfishly without concern for the feelings or needs of anyone else, including my husband, who had experienced the same loss.

It quickly became apparent that my grieving was more expressive and ritualistic. I made a scrapbook, displayed sympathy cards on the mantle with Lily’s urn, wrote blogs and lit candles in memory of our little rescue. My husband’s grief was more privately experienced, with an occasional shared story and shed tear. It was important not to trip over each other’s grief experience.

5) Grief grows out of a relationship. Some people (and even some therapists) may dismiss the death of a pet as a lesser loss. However, as with any relationship, it is important to understand the meaning ascribed to this relationship. Often a pet serves as a companion who provides unconditional love and affection. Many clients have told me stories of the richness and depth that surrounded their interactions with their pets. For me, Lily was the piece that completed our family puzzle.

 

Conclusion

The death of a pet can be such a huge loss. These fur-family members may serve as faithful friends and playmates, enriching our lives with their magnificent and comical personalities. It is important to honor their story as it intertwines with our own narrative.

I still tear up every time I hear Eva Cassidy’s version of “Somewhere Over the Rainbow.” I imagine my curly white bundle of pure love bounding across a green field to greet me … just around the Rainbow Bridge.

 

 

 

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Cheryl Fisher is a licensed clinical professional counselor in private practice in Annapolis, Maryland, and a visiting full-time faculty member in the Pastoral Counseling Department at Loyola University Maryland. Her current research examines sexuality and spirituality in young women with advanced breast cancer. She is working on a book titled Homegrown Psychotherapy: Scientifically Based Organic Practicesthat speaks to nature-based wisdom. Contact her at cyfisherphd@gmail.com.

 

 

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Opinions expressed and statements made in articles appearing on CT Online should not be assumed to represent the opinions of the editors or policies of the American Counseling Association.

 

Walking with clients through their final days

By Laurie Meyers October 31, 2016

During the time that Kerin Groves spent by her dying client’s hospital bed, she could tell that he felt conflicted. “I sensed he kept hanging on because his adult children were unable to cope with him dying,” she recalls. “The son kept urging him to fight and get better, even though the patient was in his 90s and ready to go.”

When the man’s children left his room for the day, he visibly relaxed. Groves, a licensed professional counselor (LPC), gently pointed out the difference in his tension level.

“[I] let him know it was OK to go whenever he was ready, and I assured him that I would be there to help his son get through it,” Groves says. “He looked right at me, held my gaze for a time and then closed his eyes for the last time. Given permission and support, he was able to go in peace.”

Groves, an American Counseling Association member who has worked with older adults in retirement communities, assisted living, nursing homes and home care settings, is among a select number of counselors who routinely help individuals and their families cope with the process of dying.

Acceptance and denial

Receiving a terminal diagnosis, or having a loved one receive it, is almost too much to comprehend initially, says Mary Jones, an LPC who spent 20 years counseling patients and their families in an oncology center. “People go into shock, and there is an inability to wrap their minds around what they are hearing,” she says.

Loved ones who are in the room when the terminal diagnosis is given often go through a secondary trauma — shock at what they are hearing and concern for their loved one’s feelings, Jones says. In fact, she adds, these loved ones may initially experience more anxiety than the person receiving the diagnosis.

branding-images_final-daysJones counseled patients with varying prognoses, including those who would go on to live long lives after treatment, but in her role, she often saw people at the very end, when they had been told they had only months or weeks to live. “Once they know that treatment isn’t working and there are no more options, it seems like people hit a fork in the road emotionally,” she says.

One path certain patients chose was accepting their impending deaths but also determining to answer a weighty question: What do I do next? In her role as a counselor, Jones would talk to these clients about their legacies — what they wanted to say to or leave behind for their loved ones.

One of her clients was a father with a young son. He made a video that talked about the things he wanted his son to know but wouldn’t be there in person to tell him. The video included subjects such as what the son should know about middle school, about girls and about sex.

The other fork in the path that Jones commonly witnessed was complete denial of the terminal diagnosis. She heard patients make statements such as “This isn’t happening” or “I’m not going to die.”

As a counselor, her role was to try to guide these patients toward acceptance. She acknowledges that the task was difficult. “It so goes against our belief and training and experience [as counselors] to have to say to someone, ‘But your end is near,’” she says.

Jones would sit with these patients and encourage them to talk about their feelings regardless of what they were: fear, anger, sadness, disbelief, etc. After validating what they were feeling, she would circle back around to acceptance and the importance of deciding what they wanted to do or say before they died.

Groves, currently a private practitioner in Denton, Texas, often used existential and person-centered therapy when working with individuals in denial about their impending death. “Person-centered therapy gives the patient the lead in directing the conversation in the way they feel it needs to go, at their own pace,” she says. “We talk about denial openly and how it helps or serves a purpose, as well as how it might work against them. Helping a client make a cost-benefit analysis regarding denial is empowering and respectful of [his or her] needs.”

Of course, it isn’t uncommon for family members to be dealing with denial too. Jones, who would also provide family therapy in her role, says this can create tension between family members and the person who is dying, just when that person needs more support than ever.

Seeking support

Emotional support from family members is important, but the principal source of support for many clients is their husband, wife or partner. If discord is already present in the couple’s relationship, these problems will only be exacerbated by the stress of serious or terminal illness, says ACA member Nicole Stargell, who has used emotionally focused therapy (EFT) with couples facing breast cancer diagnoses. EFT operates on the premise that to feel “attached” (safe and secure) in a relationship, couples must be able to manage and share their emotions, she explains.

When certain people experience conflict or distress, they withdraw — sometimes physically — and don’t want to talk about the problem or issue, Stargell says. Other people are “pursuers,” she continues, and their desire is to talk about what is wrong. Pursuers will actively seek responses from their partners.

Anytime that either partner displays withdrawing or pursuing behaviors, implicit assumptions are being made, says Stargell, an assistant professor of counseling and the field placement and testing coordinator at the University of North Carolina at Pembroke. For instance, partners who withdraw often do so because they perceive themselves not to be strong enough to cope or view themselves as being deficient in some other way. When pursuers try to talk to withdrawers about what is wrong, this just reinforces the withdrawers’ feelings of deficiency, Stargell explains. Meanwhile, pursuers are thinking that withdrawers don’t regard them as being important enough to try to talk things through with them. As a result, both partners end up feeling alone and unsupported, which isn’t good for either individual’s mental or physical health, she says.

Using EFT, Stargell would identify the cycle of misunderstanding that plays out repeatedly between the couple but make it clear that neither partner is to blame. Next she would help the couple start to reframe their interactions by asking them to talk about a conflict and actually say out loud what they were thinking in response to their partner’s behavior.

Stargell would then help the couple see that their reactions had more to do with self-blame than with the other person’s actions. In other words, there was no implicit message attached. She would also have the couple role-play, taking turns presenting a problem and practicing reacting differently to what the other person said or did.

Stargell also works with couples to identify triggers or recurring situations that tend to set off the negative cycles. For instance, in the week following chemotherapy, the partner who is a withdrawer and is undergoing treatment might retreat emotionally, in part because he or she is sick and feels like a failure for not being able to perform his or her normal role, such as being the one who washes the dishes. Because the withdrawing partner is sick, the pursuer doesn’t want to push for interaction. However, Stargell says, it’s not uncommon for the pursuer to feel some anger or resentment about the things the partner with cancer — or the couple together — can no longer do. The withdrawer can typically sense the underlying tension, which makes him or her withdraw even more. Together, Stargell and the couple would talk about what the couple could do differently the next time the withdrawing partner has chemotherapy.

Approaching the end 

There are many ways that counselors can support and assist clients who know that they are dying. “I have helped clients find meaning in their personal [histories] and accept suffering during the dying process by engaging in life review and reminiscence, with both laughter and tears, allowing them to say what they haven’t been allowed to, reconciling unfinished business from the past [and] helping them connect with and share their true feelings with their loved ones,” Groves says. But sometimes, the most significant role is “just sitting with them in silence as a companion,” she adds.

Groves has also helped clients facing death to work through their fears and concerns. These have included issues such as feeling guilt about being ready to die when family members beg them to keep fighting; fear of more pain or agony; weariness from long medical treatments; spiritual doubts or fears; and anger over family conflicts erupting or being exacerbated during the medical crisis.

Jones would sometimes take on a sort of facilitator role with these patients, making sure they received what they wanted or needed in their final weeks or days of life. But counselors can also advocate for patients in other ways, Jones says. Especially toward the end, patients with terminal illnesses can experience a significant amount of pain but may not want to take yet another medication. She recommends that counselors working with this population educate themselves about alternative methods of pain relief and relaxation techniques.

As the end approaches, some individuals find it easier to accept that they are going to die, whereas loved ones often have the opposite reaction, Groves notes. “Curiously, people who are near death may be more calm … because they have accepted their prognosis, while their loved ones struggle with denial and avoidance because they are not ready to let them go,” she says. “When a person dies, the opportunity to make peace with them is over, so at least when the person is still hanging on, the belief or hope that it can be reconciled is still there. They may fear letting that person die with unfinished business still between them but struggle to vocalize those unsaid things because they don’t feel it’s appropriate or acceptable.”

Groves says counselors can also play an important role in preparing family members for what to expect in the dying process. “If hospice is involved, their nursing staff may make an extra effort to help counselors explain to the family what is happening biologically, the signs of impending death and other medical information,” she says. “A counselor can also be of help with active listening, reflecting feelings, normalizing emotional responses, addressing spiritual and existential concerns, and [exuding] warmth. Many people do not know what to do or say, so they do or say nothing at all, leaving the family members stranded in their grief. Counselors are equipped to sit with people in pain and be present with them.”

Groves also believes that being present when a loved one dies can be very healing for family members. “It’s very hard to witness a death and, frankly, most people fear and avoid that experience,” she says. “They are typically afraid they will be overwhelmed with their feelings and be unable to cope. But if one is willing and able to tolerate the discomfort, with the support of the counselor, being with a dying person in their final moments allows one to genuinely embrace the natural process of death and confront its reality, which is important for healthy grieving.”

 

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Related reading: See Counseling Today‘s November cover story, “Grief: Going beyond death and stages

 

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Laurie Meyers is the senior writer for Counseling Today. Contact her at lmeyers@counseling.org.

Letters to the editorct@counseling.org

 

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Opinions expressed and statements made in articles appearing on CT Online should not be assumed to represent the opinions of the editors or policies of the American Counseling Association.