He was known for often saying, “everything is possible”. While he was alive I would brush it off when he said it, likely trying to tease him; now I wish I hadn’t. After he died, everyone around me was quoting it and I found myself getting annoyed, then angry. When I stopped for a moment, I realized I was REALLY angry! But I was directing my anger in the wrong place… maybe I was trying to find a place for blame. When I started to look at my anger, I was shocked at intense it had grown. I remind myself, it’s just moments. All I need to focus on is getting through now. For someone who has had to work on anger, I know how tempting it can feel. But in my grief, I try to remember that no matter how hard a moment gets. If I lean into the belief that “everything is possible”, I give myself enough space to pry away from the anger and move just an inch closer to true acceptance. The progress is slow, but it’s moving.  

I have always struggled with grief, both professionally and personally. As a therapist, I worry I don’t have the right questions to ask or the perfect words to soothe my heartbroken client.

Now I’m seeing that it’s ok to not have the words, that sometimes there aren’t any, and the only way to assuage any loss is to hear the stories of those who grieve. Because that’s what’s been lost, a piece of their story, and one way we can stay close to those we love and lost, is to recall their story – never losing our shared narrative.

If there’s one thing that my grief is challenging, is my belief that vulnerability is a strength – because I don’t always feel so strong. Part of my interest in putting these thoughts to words is to lean into my vulnerability and hope others will learn to do the same. It’s a part of our never-ending quest for our meaning and purpose; to feel and move through. Truthfully, it’s cathartic and heart-wrenching. Both of those things can exist together… and both feel empowering. I hope we can all learn to gravitate towards the power of our stories and embrace the vulnerability of our losses. Because like my friend always said, “everything is possible”.

Samantha Camerino (she/her) is the owner of Nomad Therapy Services. She uses a “Person in Environment” approach, addressing not just the individual, but also exploring the environmental, societal and historical components that may be impacting self-growth. She has nearly a decade of experience working with persons struggling with an array of challenges such as depression, anxiety, anger, low self-esteem, trauma, et. al. Currently, Samantha conducts sessions in the office or online, and she also encourages ‘walk & talks’ and meeting in outdoor settings. If you are interested in learning more about the Nomad approach, visit her website at www.nomadtherapyservices.com or email her at samantha@nomadtherapyservices.com.

As December moves along, I find myself imagining the New Year. I start anticipating the changes ahead. I wonder about how things will evolve for myself and for those I know and care about. What direction will the conversation head? What shape will the world take? How will we each arrive into whatever is to be?  

I also of course reflect on the year that has now gone by. I think of the moments that stand out. The decisions that were asked of us as individuals, and as a group. What accomplishments can we stand behind? What lessons did we learn as we grew into who it seems we were always becoming… 

I appreciate the reminder to rest and to acknowledge how much each year asks of us.

I know I personally need to slow down and bask in a comfy blanket and a warm cup of tea. What better time to go inward and to contemplate than in that liminal space where one year seems to have ended but the other has not yet begun…   

Slowing down also has the byproduct of making it clear that aspects of this time of year are always hard for me. The strangeness of the phrase “See you next year!” sits with me after I say it. Where did that time go? How quickly things pass when they are in our memory… For me this brings up angst. I start to think about how we only get so many trips around the sun before our time is up. I worry I’m missing the moment, and then, I end up missing the moment because of how worried I was that I would. 

I am also a bit more teary in the winter. For me, my malaise is quite cyclical. Typically I’m okay during the day, it’s at the bookends of winter nights that I struggle. Sleep comes with more tosses and turns, and mornings seem drudgier. I can be quite the grump. In that state, self-care is more difficult to commit to, and comfort food, lets just be honest, sounds way better.

I am much kinder to myself than I used to be. Really I owe much of that change to those who have held space for me. Thank god for love and friendship and therapy! And yet it’s still hard to share pain. When I do, my shame pops right up. Who are you to complain? Why don’t you do something about it then? Do you know how much worse other people have it? What’s wrong with you? Why would you burden other people with this? And on and on that voice can go.  

To name the shame here helps me to interrupt it. I want to give myself permission to take the holiday season in stride. To let all of my emotions be there, without judging them, or myself for having them. It’s okay to have my mixed feelings. Sometimes my joy will be front and center and I’ll be singing (way out of key) and laughing about something silly. At other times my anxiety might make a go for the ol’ rabbit hole. Or perhaps I’ll find myself hanging out with some sadness for the afternoon.

Whatever emotion is there I am grateful to know that there are those to share it with. Thank you for taking the time to read this, and for staying connected as we begin again. Happy (and other feelings too) New Year. 

About Elan

I provide therapy for individuals and couples. My approach as a counselor has elements of existentialism, humanism, and transpersonal psychology – though more than anything, I’m committed to helping people discover their authenticity and develop as human beings, in whatever way feels most organic.

elan@elanbenami.com; 720-722-0565