Jason, thank you for sharing such a tender piece with such raw honesty and courage. The vulnerability in your words is deeply moving. Your reflection may have been written through the lens of men’s grief, but I found what you described speaks to something profoundly human, and applied to both men and women.
As a grieving mother, your words resonated with me deeply, and made me feel a little less alone in the ocean of grief.
Yesterday, I heard a line on a podcast that has stayed with me: “Your trauma is not the loss or the event itself; your trauma is your response to the event.” And I think your reflection captured that essence. It is your response to the loss, the belief system we build in order to protect our hearts and those we love.
Thanks again, my friend, for sharing this incredible piece from your heart.
Hi Kelly, thanks so much for your note. And you're right. While I write for men, these patterns affect every single one of us - whether it's related to grief or not.
I heard a podcast yesterday that really drove this home. The guest was talking about how our brains take in 11 million bits of information a second. That's the equivalent of War and Peace, twice per second. And our conscious minds are capable of processing about 50.
One might quibble with those numbers but the idea is sound. We're constantly filtering and pattern matching to try to make sense of the world.
We select data from what's available, we interpret it through our existing lens, and we draw conclusions that reinforce the belief that set the filter in the first place. It's a self-licking ice cream cone that drives our lives.
It's one of the reasons change is so hard. We have a self-protective immune system that is protecting us from the worries our beliefs justify. It works beautifully well to protect us but also can keep us trapped in hell.
Once we're able to see the map, we're more able to change it.
Thank you for using your devastating loss to give a voice to the grieving. And I wish you peace and healing, friend ❤️
I totally understand. I hope you're both able to see that he's not broken. He's protecting himself from some deep worries that his belief system is justifying.
The things he's doing, and not doing, are perfectly designed to make sure those worries never come true. Unfortunately, they can also keep us stuck in an ocean of pain much longer than we need to be.
I wish you both peace and healing and if he ever wants to talk to someone who can relate, I'd be honoured to do that ❤️
Jason, thank you for sharing such a tender piece with such raw honesty and courage. The vulnerability in your words is deeply moving. Your reflection may have been written through the lens of men’s grief, but I found what you described speaks to something profoundly human, and applied to both men and women.
As a grieving mother, your words resonated with me deeply, and made me feel a little less alone in the ocean of grief.
Yesterday, I heard a line on a podcast that has stayed with me: “Your trauma is not the loss or the event itself; your trauma is your response to the event.” And I think your reflection captured that essence. It is your response to the loss, the belief system we build in order to protect our hearts and those we love.
Thanks again, my friend, for sharing this incredible piece from your heart.
❤️ 🙏
Hi Kelly, thanks so much for your note. And you're right. While I write for men, these patterns affect every single one of us - whether it's related to grief or not.
I heard a podcast yesterday that really drove this home. The guest was talking about how our brains take in 11 million bits of information a second. That's the equivalent of War and Peace, twice per second. And our conscious minds are capable of processing about 50.
One might quibble with those numbers but the idea is sound. We're constantly filtering and pattern matching to try to make sense of the world.
We select data from what's available, we interpret it through our existing lens, and we draw conclusions that reinforce the belief that set the filter in the first place. It's a self-licking ice cream cone that drives our lives.
It's one of the reasons change is so hard. We have a self-protective immune system that is protecting us from the worries our beliefs justify. It works beautifully well to protect us but also can keep us trapped in hell.
Once we're able to see the map, we're more able to change it.
Thank you for using your devastating loss to give a voice to the grieving. And I wish you peace and healing, friend ❤️
You couldn’t be more spot one , we are worlds apart with our grief for our son
Thank you 🙏 that’s exactly it ! beautiful words and so much sense. I will try and talk to him this weekend .
I totally understand. I hope you're both able to see that he's not broken. He's protecting himself from some deep worries that his belief system is justifying.
The things he's doing, and not doing, are perfectly designed to make sure those worries never come true. Unfortunately, they can also keep us stuck in an ocean of pain much longer than we need to be.
I wish you both peace and healing and if he ever wants to talk to someone who can relate, I'd be honoured to do that ❤️