How I Learned to L.I.V.E.

The Paisley Project was born out of personal need—a gap I experienced firsthand. I was 44 when my world turned upside down—my husband Pat died in a car accident. Suddenly, I was not just a single mom to our four kids, but also a solo parent to the three still in school. The shock and sorrow were overwhelming; I didn’t even know what kind of help I needed, much less where to find it.

There were no resources tailored for someone like me, a young widow with children still at home. My sister, a trained counselor, tried to help but found the same void. On top of this, I was stunned to realize that our culture reacts to grief badly. Helpers don’t know how to help. People felt my discomfort and ran the other way instead of being willing or able to sit in that discomfort with me.

Back then, we needed the Paisley Project, an organization we later created to empower widows to thrive, not just survive. But in 2010, the Paisley Project wasn't even a concept in my mind; I was just focused on trying to get through each day. During those challenging moments, I longed for some structure, some guidance. Eventually, through Paisley Project, we developed the concept of L.I.V.E.--guiding widows from Loss (L) to forming a new Identity (I), creating a positive Vision (V) for the future post-grief, and engaging (E) meaningfully with the world. Having what the Paisley Project offers now could have eased my loneliness and despair, bringing more hope and optimism. But we were years away from having that worked out.

And so, we took matters into our own hands! In a world where grief is often a hush-hush topic, we vowed to change the narrative. Diving headfirst into research, memoirs, and books on grief , we tried to develop practical, manageable solutions. Our road was full of twists and turns, mixed with moments of trial and error. Looking back, I zig-zagged my way through the L.I.V.E. process, crafting my very own journey. Here are some thoughts on what I learned along the way.

LOSS

In those first few years, I was, of course, primarily focused on mitigating the impact the Pat’s death was having on me and my family. I needed to feel less—well—lost. And sad and hopeless. I couldn’t listen to music or watch movies or television because they were all too triggering for me. I couldn’t figure out what to do with my time.

Writing: My sister sent me a journal and a pen, and advised me to write daily. It didn’t matter what I wrote. It could be a grocery list, a record of my jumbled thoughts, or a letter to Pat. This practice was incredibly helpful for me during a difficult time of loss. By expressing these emotions and experiences to someone who was willing to support me in my darkest moments, I realized the importance of sharing my grief as a key step in coping with loss. Both speaking out and being listened to without the pressure to solve anything were crucial. Eventually, we discovered that journaling played a significant role in the healing process. This realization led my sister and me to embark on writing a book together.

Sensory Connection: During that initial year, Starbucks coffee became my lifeline. These coffee beverages kept me going when hunger wasn't even on my radar. The sensation of clutching a warm cup of coffee, the comforting feeling as the warm liquid settled in my stomach, helped me stay connected to reality.

Nature: I knew that financially I couldn’t stay in our house, and within two weeks of Pat’s death we moved to an apartment. Fortunately, the complex had a pool and hot tub, and we spent every evening outside, even in the chilly winter, swimming and sitting in the hot tub. Being outside in nature, feeling the sensation of warm water on my skin, was in itself healing, but also helped to fill the the awake hours for me with my three youngest children.

Connection: When I wasn’t able to sleep, almost every night, I read books about people who had endured similar losses and it reduced isolation for me. I didn’t know any young widows and it was the only way I could have connection was through people in books. It was a one-way conversation, and no-one could comment on my exact situation, but I felt less alone.

In a similar way, it helped that I had a job to go to every day. Being around a group of people I knew and who knew me helped me feel safe. Plus, focusing on work was a welcomed distraction from all the unknown questions in my own life. It was the most stable part of my life, and the tasks that I could do from muscle memory.

And finally, I had regular check-ins with core people. I learned that there are different kinds of helpers: “do-ers” and “be-ers.” For example, my sister-in-law, Tracy, was a do-er and I don’t know how I would have gotten through any task without her. It helped that she worked at the same office, and she went with me to every appointment, every visit to the DMV or Social Security office. She also ran interference for me, keeping busybodies at arms’ length, but marshalling other people’s input when needed.

On the contrary, my sister, Barbara, was more of a "be-er." Even though she lived in a different state, she would check in with me nearly every day. With her, I could openly express my emotions, vent my grief, frustration, and anger, and she would simply be there for me. She listened attentively and acknowledged the little moments of kindness that brightened my days. She never made me feel dependent, irrational, or without hope.

In the beginning stages, it's crucial to build connections with others. However, I discovered that on average, a widow loses 75% of their social network within the first six months. This was my reality as well. Relationships I once relied on quickly faded. Some individuals felt uneasy about my circumstances, possibly fearing they would be next or worrying about saying or doing the wrong thing, leading them to steer clear of me.

Enduring the clearing of my relationships has a silver lining; it has broadened my perspective on the relationships in my life. I now quickly recognize the value of the people currently in my life – my kids, grandkids, sisters, parents, and friends – more than ever before.
During this period, I also launched the Paisley Project, which initially centered around the tools and resources that I found beneficial.

IDENTITY

The losses experienced through widowhood are profound and deep. While many may think the primary loss is the person themselves, the loss of identity is equally significant. It impacts every facet of how I defined myself. Suddenly, I was no longer known as the "Elder's wife" at church, not identified as a married individual, or a homeowner. I wasn't part of vacation groups with friends, a co-parent, or a secondary income provider. If I was none of these roles anymore, who was I truly?

So What Helped?

Interestingly, the necessity of relocating within a fortnight, and subsequently three more times in the following eight years, compelled me to contemplate my preferences for living spaces. Initially, I moved with my children, but as they moved out, I focused on creating spaces tailored just for me. I pondered on where I truly wanted to reside, which possessions held significance for me, and how I intended to allocate my time.

While juggling the launch of the Paisley Project, the real game-changer in shaping my new persona was diving headfirst into coach training. Through this transformative journey, I not only coached others but also received valuable guidance that nudged me to uncover my true passions and values. It was like unlocking the secret recipe to my purpose in this vast world. Surprisingly, I unearthed a love for scientific research, especially in exploring how grief and trauma intertwine with a woman's brain. Health and fitness emerged as my top priority, and I embraced my role as a catalyst for change in the realm of grief support, particularly for fellow widows. Little did I know, coaching would eventually become a cornerstone of the support system offered by the Paisley Project.

VISION

Once I dove headfirst into building Paisley Project, my mission snapped into focus. Besides precious moments with my family, Paisley Project is all I think about.. Now, my life's purpose is to uplift widows, breathe life into their days, and revolutionize how we handle grief. My hours are a whirlwind of deep-diving into research, unraveling the threads of trauma and loss, crafting programs, rallying support, and bonding with widows far and wide.

ENGAGEMENT

And now I’ve come full circle. I still have days where I miss Pat terribly. There are still losses that surprise me. I still have trouble sleeping sometimes, and I’ve struggled financially over the years. But I’ve been forged by grief and like what I’ve become. I’m doing good work in the world, and that brings me joy and fulfillment. Each time I connect with a widow and she tells me she appreciates being seen, I know my struggles have born fruit.

Over the past year, I’ve supervised the training in the first cohort of Paisley Project coaches. These women are all widows who first came to us grieving and looking for connection. Now they want to give back. Watching this group grow and learn through their training is one of the most meaningful, fulfilling things I have ever experienced.

Would I trade all of what I’ve learned if I had a chance to have Pat back? Probably. He was the love of my life. He was my person.

But I recognize that with this loss also came a new understanding in the way I view myself and the world! And that is worth keeping.