5 Lessons Learned From a Fatherless Daughter, Guest Writer: Jessica Itano

I want to preface this article with a disclaimer: I am making this all about me. Just hear me out. While it may seem like I say “I” one too many times, I feel inappropriate saying “you”. If you’re reading this article, it may be because you’ve lost your dad. I’ll be honest in saying, when I lost my dad, I didn’t want anyone’s advice. I rolled my eyes, scoffed, and even said the occasional curse word in my mind when people offered me their unsolicited opinions on how long it would take to feel better. “It just takes time,” “It’ll get easier,” “Trust me. It’ll be ok.”

I appreciate that everyone’s grief journey is different. So I’m not here to offer advice. I’m here simply just to share my story, and if you happen to benefit from any part of it, I’ve done my job.

My dad is a girl dad. Growing up, he was the only man in the house. A wife, two baby girls (one being me - hi, I’m Jess), and three girl cats. He made our lives effortless. He was our friend, math tutor, tech guy, softball coach, insect killer, car mechanic, plumber, personal chef, tax accountant, decision maker, gps, grocery shopper, and you bet, many times, our bank. He held many titles and claimed many responsibilities. Not because he had to, but because he wanted to. 

In January of 2014, Dad passed away at the age of 54. He came down with the common flu which developed to pneumonia. He drove himself to the hospital for a casual checkup. He even posted a hilarious selfie in his hospital gown. That visit turned into an eight day stay in the intensive care unit. Never - not once - did I expect us to have to drive his car home without him.

My dad’s death was shocking. Unexpected. Life altering in a way I could have never even fathomed before that day. The eight days spent solely in the hospital was an emotional roller coaster, flowing between hopeful highs and terrifying lows, only to end in the worst case scenario. I felt like I was standing on a violent battlefield of emotional warfare.

The following weeks were numb. My mom, my sister, and I were going through motions: breaking the news, planning arrangements, accepting condolences, etc. I use the term “etcetera” because much of it is a blur. Once the initial phase of losing Dad passed, we were then left to navigate life without him.

I had one thought: how?

How is this a “normal” part of life that everyone has to experience? How do people live through this? Will I live through this? How do I take care of Mom and my family? As time moved on, the questions became more specific.

How do I get my oil changed - is it a synthetic blend or full synthetic? How do I fix my computer with this virus? How do I use a drill? How do I do my taxes? How am I going to kill this spider in my kitchen? How long do I cook salmon for? How to I fill nail holes in my apartment walls? How do I negotiate a new car lease?

Many times, these questions stopped me in my tracks. They knocked the wind out of me and brought me to tears. Now, six years later, sometimes they still do. But somehow, I’ve started to find joy in these moments. How?

1. I ALLOW THESE MOMENTS TO BRING MEMORIES.

Rather than feeling angry, sad, distressed, or upset, I’ve learned to live in the moment of what these situations bring me. For example: It is incredibly different not to roll my eyes and curse the world for its insensitivity when I walk by the Father’s Day cards at Target. Then I pause, take a deep cleansing breath, and remind myself of the loud singing cards we used to buy my dad every year. I get a giggle out of the fact that he genuinely enjoyed them.

2. I RECOGNIZE MY DAD’S PRESENCE.

At first, I told myself I was searching for signs. I now accept that my dad shows up in many ways. So when a hawk soars by, the lights spontaneously flicker, a man walks by that looks curiously like him, or I have a dream of him, I know Dad’s with me. These signs bring me comfort, peace of mind, and hope.

3. I PUT WORDS TO MY FEELINGS.

After years of claiming “therapy won’t change the fact that Dad is gone,” I finally started talking about my grief. Speaking of specific and horrific moments revokes their power over me. Being asked a question about my emotions allows me to decipher what triggers such feelings. Discussing the impact this loss has had on my life teaches me how to nurture myself. Explaining my nightmares has revealed their meaning. Therapy, journaling, women’s or moon circles, and talking with loved ones have all given me the chance to speak my mind.

4. I HOLD MY EMOTIONS GENTLY.

Sometimes I feel solid, and others I crumble. I can celebrate in my dad’s memory then suddenly be halted by a panic attack. There are moments that I am ready to grow, and others I welcome the sadness because it feels familiar. It’s comfortable. I often battle between two thoughts: I can’t be happy because that portrays that I’ve forgotten about my dad’s death, but on the other hand, my dad wouldn’t want me to be stuck in this constant state of sorrowful heartache. I feel a never-ending sense of conflict. And you know what? That’s ok. Grief is not linear. It comes and goes in waves. I try my best to feel and flow with the tides.

5. I EMBRACE THE LESSONS MY DAD TEACHES ME FROM HEAVEN.

Since my dad’s passing, I have learned how to comfortably (and fearlessly) travel by plane, live out of hotels for work, travel alone, use a drill, hang floating shelves, and make the family’s teriyaki chicken and sunomono recipe. I have negotiated a car lease, moved houses, killed a bug here and there, gotten my oil changed without being conned into six unnecessary services, and completed my taxes (more than once). I have finally learned when to stop before I’ve had one too many drinks, and actually acquired a taste for bloody mary’s. If it weren’t for my dad, I wouldn’t have had the foundational knowledge to accomplish any of these things. Like I said, Dad did things because he knew we could but felt like we shouldn’t have to, not because we couldn’t do it ourselves. With every new lesson I learn and task I accomplish, I am introduced to the strong, stable, and independent version of myself that my dad raised me to be.

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Jessica Itano

Hi, I’m Jess. I’ve always expressed myself best through writing, but the practice truly became healing after losing my dad. Outside of writing, many of my other interests also align with soul searching and personal development: yoga, meditation, reading, and creating art.

The Heart of a Dad Through the Eyes of a Child

I lost my dad. Twice. At the age of seven and again at twenty-seven. When a seven-year old and his five-year-old brother, experience dad moving out of their home, the loss is severe, and the impact is life altering. Sadly, we were so young, and life was just getting started, so the loss and impact was actually unknown. How could a seven and five-year old have any understanding of what was being lost by not experiencing the heart of a dad in the home? The void of his presence, the strength of his hugs, the coming alongside in learning, the words of encouraging wisdom from a man’s perspective would be benefits observed in the homes of our childhood friends.  

 Separated life with dad was not perfect, but thankfully it was not lacking in genuineness. I knew I was loved, but from a distance. Then, twenty years later he would leave again.  This time it would be cancer that stole him away. However, “this time” the loss and impact would be known. There would be choices to make, decisions about life and career, challenges with the inevitable storms on the horizon. All of it, seemingly, would have been helped from having knowledge that comes from the heart and wisdom of a dad. This time gone forever. Or so it seemed in the moment. And then it happened.

 I became one. A dad.

I’m not a psychologist, a marriage and family counselor, or a child specialist. I’m a Dad.  I’m not perfect, I have made mistakes and I’m sure I will make mistakes in the future. I’m human. I’m a Dad. My children don’t expect me to be perfect, in fact they know I am not. Over the years they have come to understand the true heart of a dad by watching me navigate life in my imperfection. Truth be told, what was lost in my lack of understanding of what a dad’s heart should look like was discovered and forged through the eyes and understanding of my children. Here are a few things they have taught me:

1.     Being present, available, listening, watching, attentive and aware were advantages unknown to me as a young boy. My children have shown me that there is strength and confidence gained in healthy and safe environments. Learning through challenges and processing of thoughts and ideas are necessary disciplines of life.

2.     Teach by words and by actions. Be real. Be genuine. Never forget there are eyes watching and learning. Minds that are taking it all in. My children have learned how to handle the challenges of life by watching how life’s challenges were being handled. Perfection is not the goal but rather how to navigate life in an imperfect world is.

3.     Unconditional Love is not a feeling but rather a statement of commitment and action. It is unselfish. It is an awareness that every goal, every objective, every purpose in life is ultimately for the benefit of someone else. No matter what has been done, no matter the failure, love is never withheld or denied. True love does not come with conditions.

 The heart of a dad is a gift given to children that should never be abandoned or stolen. Understanding the heart of a dad is a gift given back to him through the eyes and hearts of his children. Valuable gifts in both directions.

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Mike Larkin

Mike is a business leader in the for-profit and non-profit sectors, a professor on campus and on-line, a leader globally and in the local community, in an ever changing world and culture. With two constants: Faith and Family. And he’s a proud dad!

When You Ask Why After Loosing Someone To Suicide, Guest Writer: Grace Alonso

Faith and grief, to me at least, are inevitably intertwined. My story about losing my dad has everything to do with finding Jesus. And my testimony about accepting Jesus has everything to do with me growing up without my biological father. 

When I was three and a half years old, my father took his own life. I don’t remember much about him, other than a few insignificant memories of us that still make me smile. My family loves to tell me about the kind of man he was; strong, caring, hilarious, loving, and passionate about God. Growing up and hearing about his otherworldly character was always a hard experience. Why weren’t any of these attributes, even a love for God, enough to keep him here?

I didn’t find out it was suicide until I was 10, when I realized I actually didn’t know how he died. I was angry, shocked, and hurt. I had grown up thinking my dad died not of his own will and if he had had his way, he would still be here with me. This wasn’t the case. I felt as if everything I had known about him, about myself, was a lie. I wasn’t enough. Or at least that is the seed that was planted in my head. 

Throughout those pivotal middle school years, I struggled with the concept that my father had chosen to leave this earth, leave me. I believed suicide was a selfish act and he had done this selfishly, not truly considering or even loving me. I questioned everything. 

Growing up without him was strange. I have a wonderful “step”-dad (he has been around forever and for all intents and purposes is my dad) but there was still this hole that I couldn’t explain. That hole was ignited with a flame when I found out how my father had died. I grieved a man I had never known. I missed a man I knew I loved but never experienced. I couldn’t talk about him with anyone, or so it felt, because the details surrounding his death were still too painful for some. And so I bottled every single one of these feelings, and countless more, up inside me for all those years. 

The result of not processing, of not truly grieving, did a number on me. I wasn’t able to experience true relationship with people and constantly let the narrative of me not being good enough take over at some point. I was constantly striving to be what I thought people wanted from me, constantly distancing myself to extremely painful ends. High school was the most pivotal time for this process. I not only met Jesus as my best friend freshman year, but I let Him start the process of opening up the hole that had never really been closed anyway. 

It wasn’t until sophomore year, though, that I learned more details about my dad. Stuff I won’t share on here, because that is his story and one that I hold close to me, because it is one where I finally understood him. I was able to understand why he had chosen to kill himself, to take his life, to remove himself from this world—from me. It wasn’t a selfish act, in fact it was far from it. It was selfless. That is the thing I think people miss with suicide. The people that are struggling with this are convinced this world is a better place without them. It is our job, our duty, our responsibility, our privilege to show them otherwise. I am grateful for my dad’s story and for what God has taught me through it. I miss him every day and I believe he is in heaven waiting for me, enjoying the presence of our savior. 

So please. If anyone reaches out to you about depression, about these thoughts, just listen. Know it isn’t selfish. Know they would give anything to be feeling that there was another option. And show them their presence on this side of heaven matters. 

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Grace Alonso

Grace grew up in Ventura County, CA. She is currently working toward a bachelor of science in who knows what and doing an internship at her home church. Her absolute favorite thing right now is being a nanny to an autistic boy.

Balancing Unresolved Feelings with the Mix of Honor After the Loss of a Loved One, Guest Writer: Paul Kuzma

May 29 was the 4 year marker of losing Mom, and June 3 marked 4 months since the loss of Dad. Of course, I already knew there would be something (maybe many things) different about the loss of Dad from the loss of Mom. That has borne itself out to be true.

One of the ways was expected, the other not so much.

I expected the loss of Dad would be different in the experience of what I call the “orphan syndrome.” That’s what occurs when you are a child, even an adult child, who has lost both parents. I have definitely felt the loss of both parents now in a way that has an entirely different emphasis than when we lost Mom, and still had Dad.

The more unexpected difference since the loss of Dad has been the tension I have experienced between the unresolved parts of our relationship and the true desire I have to honor his memory. 

To be clear, when Dad died, and since, I have had no regrets. We had a good relationship, and I was able to spend a considerable amount of time with Dad in his last couple of years. It wasn’t an easy task since I had moved across country four years before he died.

The unresolved parts are not regrets for me. They are the parts of life we never talked about simply because Dad wasn’t a “talker.” I long ago released trying to get him to talk and answer my questions, recognizing the value of just being present with him even if all we were doing was watching TV.

For the last year or so, my siblings and I have made a habit of meeting by video every Sunday night. Dad lived with my brother. An inside joke was how long Dad would be on the call before he declared, “y’all take care now!”, which meant he was done talking. I think his record was about 15-20 seconds!

I didn’t expect the unresolved parts to be an issue that would be in tension with my deep desire to honor his memory as well. I’m not done with it and don’t have answers. Not sure I will have them when all is said and done.

However, I did recently hear a counselor talk about family of origin issues, and an individual’s common pushback to doing that work by saying, “I thought we were supposed to honor our parents.” The counselor simply said, “there’s nothing more honoring than telling the truth.”

That statement has brought a measure of freedom from that tension for me. Maybe this Father’s Day, it will to you too. This will be my first without being able to hear his voice, and I already feel the missing of him as the day approaches.

For more regarding the topic of honor and honesty check out this article by The Allender Center: https://theallendercenter.org/2018/06/fathers-day-honor-honesty/ 

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Paul Kuzma

Paul Kuzma is the Director at the Center for Spiritual Renewal East in Christiansburg, VA. He is also the chaplain at their local county sheriffs office. He has spent many years in ministry!

Check out his current work here.

Find him on IG and FB.

Coping Skills to Approach Fathers Day When They're No Longer with You, Guest Writer: Courtney Nestor

June is a tough month to be honest. I can’t even go to Target without seeing the Father’s Day cards just staring at me reminding me of another year that my Dad is gone. I start thinking about our last Father’s Day together where my dad made the most luscious steaks while wearing his “King of the Grill” apron. We played baseball in the front yard and the day felt long. That day was 10 years ago and I still remember it like yesterday. I miss those days with him grilling and family being around and together celebrating our dad.

10 years later, I have learned a few things that have helped me cope with the loss of my Dad that I would like to share with you. I want to preface this post with that what I will say has helped me and I know that each loss and grief journey is different and each relationship with a dad is different. Some of you might have had an estranged relationship with a father. Some of you did not have that same father figure even in your life. Some of you may have been adopted so your dad has a new role in your life. Some of you had a great relationship with a father. You have your own experience, but I hope that through me sharing my learned coping skills and encouragement to you for this Father’s Day, I hope you find yourself refreshed, encouraged, and prompted to be reflective about whatever your experience has been with or without a dad.

One thing I would encourage you in as you prep for Father’s Day is being mindful of your body. Notice how you feel physically. Notice any tension, tightness. Are you clenching your teeth resulting in holding stress in your jaw? Honestly, I did not realize how much tightness I had in my jaw so I give jaw a massage or ask my sweet husband to give my jaw a massage. TRY IT- jaw massages are so nice and it really releases some pressure in the jaw area. Are you more tired when Father Days comes around? I know I am. I need more sleep, my mind is racing so I am physically exhausted. Be mindful of any physical symptoms because our body knows when we are feeling stressed, sad, mad, tired etc. Noticing our body will bring more awareness of how you really are feeling emotionally and sometimes the physical symptoms come before the emotions do. So take a bath, exercise, get 7-8 hours of sleep, eat healthy and notice how your body is feeling. Listen to your body! Tip- google UCLA mindfulness, and try the body scan to observe your body and how it is feeling. This is a great daily practice, but also for harder days like Father’s Day.

After you observe your physical body, begin to notice your thoughts, emotions, feelings and mood. Are you more sad than normal? Are you avoiding your feelings and emotions as Father’s Day draws closer? I notice myself being more sad, withdrawn/isolated, anxious and overwhelmed knowing that Father’s Day is coming. Emotions are so good to process through and I want to encourage you to dig deeper beyond the base emotions which are feeling sad, mad, happy, bad, surprised and fearful. (Google emotions wheel- so helpful) Think of these emotions as the tip of an ice berg. There are so many different emotions that are underneath these base emotions and I want to encourage you to dig deep in how you’re really feeling. This may be uncomfortable and you may cry and you know what, that is OKAY. However you’re feeling, notice those emotions and allow yourself to sit in them. It is important that as you’re digging deeper, reach out to supportive family or friends, pray, journal, hike, scream in a pillow or in your car. Your emotions are meant to be released and it is okay to feel them. Tip- keep a thought/emotions record to monitor what you’re thinking and telling yourself. This can assist you in managing your emotions and help regulate yourself when you’re feeling more low, depressed, anxious, overwhelmed, etc.

This process is daily for me and sometimes moment to moment. There is no right way of grieving, but there is healthy coping so whatever that looks like for you, do it. Because our emotions are correlated with our physical symptoms and vice versa, I believe that when we can be more self-aware and mindful of both, we can allow ourselves to cope in a healthy way. I would encourage you to just be in the moment and allow yourself to feel the emotions as they come, no judgement of feeling weak or small, but rather being human and processing through those emotions. My husband asks me each year what I want to do for Father’s Day and honestly, sometimes, I just don’t know how I am going to be that day, but I also know how I can cope pre-Father’s Day. I feel it out and I don’t plan much. What I have found to be consistently a good choice of activities that reminds me of my dad is going to the beach, drinking coffee and eating good food. I celebrate my dad on Father’s Day even though he is not here. I believe I can honor the amazing father he was and remember the joyful memories I will always keep with me. He may not physically be here, but I carry him with me always because I am his daughter. So as Father’s Day is creeping up, try to take inventory of yourself and see what you need. Maybe you’ll be celebrating another dad in the family, your spouse as a dad, or maybe you don’t have someone who is a fatherly figure and it is just another day. This practice can only benefit you and I pray it is beneficial for your mental and physical health this Father’s Day.

Thank you for reading and I am praying for your hearts this week.

Courtney Nestor xoxo

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Courtney Nestor

Courtney Has her Masters in social work and is currently using her degree to help veterans. She lives in Pasadena with her husband Eric where they drink lots and lots of coffee together and runt he Rose Bowl frequently.

Find her on IG and FB.

Getting too Comfortable in Grief and Needing More Color, Guest Writer: Whitney

Loss made me very comfortable.

It was August 24th, 2015 when I got the call from my brother informing me that my father was gone. I felt the sting of empty promises and no goodbye. My father had slipped away and all the while I was in a parallel universe on the west coast shopping for wedding venues and preparing for my wedding.

When I got the call, I knew he was gone from the tone of my brother’s voice. I told my fiance beforehand that I would like to be alone with him when I got the news. So there we waited, and then the call came and my world crashed in on me. Before I knew it I was on a plane, picking out flowers and a casket, back on a plane, and back to “normal”. But I wasn’t normal. I was shattered but I was pushed by the currents of life to move on. Grief is not an emotion to be left on its on own and shut behind closed doors, or it becomes fear, depression, and anger.

It’s been 3 years, and with time the pain did fade and I was able to return half-heartedly to what life was. I did move on and come back but the world was more dull. However, this past year I began to realize I don’t wonder at what I can be in the world anymore. I don’t feel like giving effort. I became very afraid to lose again which in turn made outings with friends less invigorating, purpose more illusive, and taking risks became more impossible. I realized my life had become very safe and comfortable. I didn’t feel like pushing but I also felt very unhappy. Getting up and participating with life became too difficult. I kept asking myself What is wrong with you? Try harder! but still would struggle with wanting to face the day much less care about personal creativity and active participation with exciting opportunities. I now realize that I was in avoidance and despair. Once I realized I needed to have grace with myself I began to thaw out my icy heart.

I realized I needed color back in my life. I needed risk to feel alive. I needed to trust in my divine to feel a sense of purpose. I had closed my heart and hands down to pursuing dreams because I understood what could be snatched away in seconds or before you even know it is gone. After three years of living in the hamster wheel of living to work and working to live, I began to grow discontent. I began to be drawn to the reckless God-inspired dreaming of my youth. I began to miss passion and sacrifice. I didn’t want to repeat 17 year Whitney moving across the country but I was ready to embark on the deep joy of what God has in store for me without looking over my shoulder for tragedy.

Based on an article called Coping With Loss by National Institute for Health, there is a “course for grief”. They are Numbness, Pining, Disorganisation and despair, Reorganisation (NIH, 1198). I often found myself numb this year, coping with watching social media but not contributing, backing away from relationships, and being too tired for opportunities to lead with strength. The article states that avoidance of grief leads to chronic grief which in turn wreaks havoc on the human body, mind, and soul. Which course of grief do you find yourself in today?

The key for walking through my course of grief has been solely the love of my community pushing me to see life in color again, to trust again, and my God, who has never left my side despite despair.

You love and you lose. Loss can be crippling but you can experience the full joy of life again without the fear of tragedy. You can do this by realizing you may be checking out and coping and also recognizing your course of grief, giving yourself grace, and surrounding yourself with a community that can walk through this phase with you. This is what I am trying to teach myself, it isn’t me or you, it’s us.

We are getting through loss together.

I am ready to come back to the world of adventure and risk.

I am ready to uniquely give what I was created to give to this world. I still have fear but I will live in courage, and life will have moments of terrible grief but also incredible heights of beauty. I want all that life can give to me.

I am ready to trust in God’s purpose for my life, that he is in control and that I am not spinning toward chaos but true purpose and eternity.

Have you ever felt the same? If so, let’s share together- let’s be community. As always live for today, and shine on for tomorrow’s world. I have linked the article referenced above, feel free to review and see the course of your grief!https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC1112778/ 

When They Are No Longer a Phone Call Away

So you use to talk on the phone alot, or a little?

Maybe for a reason, or for no reason at all.

How’s your day?

Guess what?

You’re not going to believe this!

I miss you!

See you soon!

Thank you mom!

Thank you dad!

How do you cook ____?

Can you help me with_____?

Just wanted to say hey.

One of the most common things I hear people grieve after they experience the death of their loved one, is not being able to call them. It’s the weirdest feeling.

If you haven’t experienced this, imagine a street you drive everyday.  Now imagine that it’s gone. Their texts and calls, your texts and calls to them are programmed not only in your phone but in your mind.

When I got a cell phone at 17, shortly after I moved out, my mom became consistent at “good morning” texts. It made me feel connected and made me feel like she was never out of reach. It was simple, yet anchoring. Her texts became a routine part of my day, like brushing my teeth.

I can’t tell you the amount of times during my first year after her death, that I went to grab the phone to tell her something or to see how she was feeling. Sometimes it took my breath away, sometimes it was embarrassing, and sometimes I just wanted to chuck the phone (let’s be honest).

The feeling of forever not being able to communicate with her was incomprehensible to my body and mind.

When something new, good, or hard happens in our life we want to connect and share that moment or information with someone. Usually someone we trust and feel seen by. I believe that’s the way we’re created, it’s in all of us. You don’t have to experience the death of someone to know that. It could happen in a break up or a divorce.

So, this isn’t an article on how to identify triggers that make you want to pick up your phone and connect with your loved one who for a split second, still felt like they were alive. Why is it not that kind of article? Because it is your road to process, and because 99% of the time the triggers are a surprise. I’m sorry.

The moments I just wanted to get my mom’s advice on something or ask her how she made her popular bread, I’d want to yell at the top of my lungs.

You’re not alone if you’ve called your loved one’s cell phone to hear their voicemail.

You’re not alone if you haven’t deleted their phone number out of your cell.

Mostly, just please know that you’re not alone.

It’s not just in your head, in your heart, or a matter of self control or strength to remember that they’re gone and that you can’t call them. It is so much more.

It is rewiring months, years or however long you had with them of habits, patterns and memories. Our brain has a lot of work to do after we experience the death of a loved one as what we once knew as normal disappears.

The next time you reach to grab your phone out of second nature to call your loved one, will you close your eyes, take a breathe, and say out loud what you were going to say to them?

Afterwards, either share the moment with a trusted friend, journal it, or tell me here on the Healing , Hope & Wholeness website. They may not be on the other end of the phone, but we are.  

How to Set Yourself up for Emotional Healing and Wholeness, Guest Writer: Courtney Nestor

I lost my father 8 years ago on October 11th, 2009. He past away from a sudden stroke which was caused by a brain aneurism. I remember that day like it was yesterday, that day changed my life.

I was in Bible College when I met Ceci! I had people come and tell me that I needed to meet her because she had been through the loss of a parent recently. So we met and the rest is history! We’ve both been on this weird journey of grief together. I am SO grateful to have a friend who encourages me in the hard moments to reach for Jesus and allow myself to find healing, hope and wholeness. Let’s jump in.

The past 8 years my life has been full of ups and downs, good and not so good. I have lost loved ones and friends, made new friends, lost jobs, gotten better jobs and got married to the most wonderful and loving husband, Eric. Within these 8 years I have been learning about what my healing process looks like. By allowing God to bring hope into my life, I am truly ready to walk through the process towards wholeness. This idea of wholeness was scary for me, but I want to be a woman of God who seeks healing, finds hope and is found feeling whole in Christ. I have learned that by confronting my past pain and hurt, I now have positioned myself to experience true healing and wholeness.

I’m a HUGE fan of therapy. I believe that therapy can be life changing if we allow ourselves to be vulnerable and open to change. I see a therapist almost weekly and I am rocked in the best way after our session. I love inviting the Lord into this area of my healing. I believe that I can be changed by God when I choose to rely on Jesus and not allow my fears to take over my life. The Lord has been doing a work in my mind and my heart in regards to the grieving process and finding freedom. For me, the battle has been in my mind.

Through conversations with my husband, friends, and my therapist, I have realized that I have had hurts and negative thinking patterns for 8 years. However, did not have the language to express myself. I often would find myself being really frustrated in my thinking and actions. I know I can’t control what has happened in the past. However, I can control how I think and act now.

As a social worker, we study thought processes and one intervention is called Cognitive Behavioral therapy or CBT. In CBT, we help clients acknowledge their thought process and help guide them to change negative thinking into positive truths, which guide a changed thinking pattern, which ultimately will change their behavior. As I was learning about this intervention, I knew that I needed to change my thoughts. I needed to change the way I perceived the world and others around me. I knew deep in my heart and soul that I was on my way to finding wholeness.

I shared with my husband what I had been processing through therapy and in my time with Jesus— it was so hard. It was hard because it brings up pain and it brings up unfinished business. It brings up a well of emotion that is so overwhelming. I pushed past the tears and pushed past the fears and just told him how I have been feeling for a long time. I felt so good. I felt relieved. I felt like I had opened myself to receive a new level of love and care from my husband because I let him into a really deep part of me. Now I’m not saying that my husband doesn’t know me at all because lord knows HE KNOWS ME.

What I’m saying is, that he got to see the reason behind why I say the things I say and react the way I react. It’s because I was afraid. I lived in fear. Fear of feeling rejected, fear of losing him or another loved one in the future, and fear of unknown futures. I told him that I don’t want to live this way any longer. I know in my heart that Jesus is enough, that I am a daughter of Christ that He is so faithful and loves me so much. However, after my dad passed away something happened that disconnected my heart from my thought process.

I know I am going to be okay and I live a beautiful life with my husband, family and friends. Wholeness looks and feels different for everyone, but I am hopeful that my experience and thoughts spark something in you, whoever you are reading this. I hope you find your own wholeness in life. Not that I’ve attained this, but I am well on my way to wholeness. I know that living a holistic life is possible.

xo Courtney