www.HoneyIShrunkTheGrief.com
© 2012 Eric Vaiksnoras

“I like to move it, move it”
 ~song lyrics by Real 2 Real
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NUTRITION/DIET:
This subject is such a complex one. For every nutritional claim that is made, there are usually numerous others that contradict it. That is why talking about nutrition makes me feel too much like I’m walking on thin ice. In spite of this, I do have a couple general observations that I’d like to make.

First, I think that old saying “we are what we eat” has a great message behind it. If I want to contribute to my healing and general wellness, it makes perfect sense to me that the less processed and more natural foods I eat, the better I’m going to feel. If lower-quality foods make up a significant percentage of my diet, I can’t expect to feel good and function in any kind of optimal state.

I also want to make a comment on the benefits of moderation. I think this is an invaluable life concept that applies perfectly to so many areas of personal wellness, nutrition included. The specific moderation thoughts I’m having at the moment, in relation to my diet, have to do with the portion sizes of the foods I eat.

I’ve always had a higher muscle/lower body fat composition, and have always been very physically active. This combination has allowed me to eat anything, and often times in large quantities, without having to worry about my weight. I feel pretty lucky to be able to do this, but at the same time, have begun to question this behavior. Is it healthy to consume such large quantities of food? And why do I do this?

The answer to the first question dealing with appropriate “food input” is a tough one, because the answer is based on numerous factors; two big ones being “the type of food” I eat, and my level of “output” (how physically active I’ve been/how many calories I’ve burned). Sure, there are times when my body needs the extra calories. For example, I love to run, and recently have been enjoying long trail runs with a group of friends on a hilly 11-mile course. I’m sure during times like these, my body burns an enormous amount of calories and needs larger portion sizes to replenish. But in general, I think I eat too much. And just because it hasn’t yet had an effect on my physical appearance, I think it still has negative short and long term health consequences, which is why I’m currently working on making some changes to this area of my health—and I feel good about my efforts.

The answer to the other question (why do I eat such large quantities of food?) is an interesting one for me to think about. I think I can trace this back to my early childhood, when family and friends would find great delight in watching me eat—because I could really pack it away! They praised me for my actions, with things as subtle as a glowing smile, or other forms of feedback that went something like “great job cleaning your plate!”, or “Wow! You must have enjoyed that!”, or “you have such a wonderful appetite!”. This encouraged and reinforced my actions because I wanted to please the loved ones who were caring for me. I imagine these were my first experiences of being rewarded for eating large quantities of food, and being conditioned to see it as a good thing.

With that said, I’m an adult now, with more life experiences and perspective, and I have to take much more ownership for my actions. It also needs to be said that in no way do I condemn anyone who has made any kind of comment about my big appetite. The comments were coming from a loving, nurturing place and were more than appropriate; I was naturally a big eater, and it made people take notice!

I feel like I grew from the experience, and now can do things a little differently with my son. Instead of praising him for cleaning his plate, I make an extra effort to praise him for stopping when he’s full, regardless of how much food is on the table or on his plate; and I praise him for the quality of foods that he eats—encouraging a diet of natural/unprocessed foods.

 

SLEEP:
Rest is a key component in anything. I found that this fact, paired with my body’s reaction to grieving, made for a challenging environment. Grieving often left me feeling like I was in a racing state—I imagine due to being in a hypersensitive condition of wanting to solve and fix things. While in many instances, the extra adrenaline was helpful in getting through a myriad of life obstacles, it wasn’t too conducive to sleep. Other life circumstances, such as being a single dad and full time student, compounded the situation. So what is a sleep deprived griever to do? For me, I saw it as something that was just a part of grieving. And while I often fell short of getting the amount of sleep that I felt was best for me, I didn’t want to beat myself up over it because I felt that stressing about my lack of sleep would likely only lead to even less sleep. So I tried to care for other parts of my health, and then sleep when I was able.

One thing that has been a great help to me during the daytime, has been taking a daily 10 to 15 minute powernap. Fortunately, I’m comfortable sleeping wherever — and can sit down and lean against a wall, bring my legs to my chest, curl up in a ball — and be out cold in a heartbeat. Other times I’ll sleep in a parked car, on my sofa at home, or better yet, in my bed. Wherever I’m at, these short naps during the day have helped me to recharge and recover some of the sleep that I wasn’t getting at night. And even when I have gotten a full nights rest, if I listen to the natural rhythm of my body, I find it greatly appreciates a short 10-15 minute nap in the middle of the day, typically following my lunch.

 

BREATHING/IMAGERY:
Breathing is such a simple and involuntary act, that I find myself all too often forgetting just how important it is to my health. I’ve experienced its ability to magically regulate stress levels. For this and other reasons, I believe the way I breathe makes a big impact on my overall health. Because of this awareness, I am especially attracted to activities that help me to get the most out of my breathing—activities like yoga, tai chi, running, meditation, etc.

About 4 years ago I was certified as a smoking cessation facilitator for both the American Lung Association and the American Cancer Society. I have helped people who wanted to quit smoking to actually quit smoking. This is no easy task. The individual trying to quit battles a very strong form of addiction—one that is especially difficult to overcome because quitting involves both the behavioral part of the addiction (habits that become part of one’s daily routine…like smoking in the car on the way to work) and the chemical part of addiction (the bodies strong desire for the highly addictive chemicals in cigarettes, particularly nicotine).

Similar to someone who is grieving, a person who is in the process of quitting smoking is under an incredible amount of stress. One of the most effective tools I’ve learned (during my facilitator training) to combat stress is to take deep, controlled, yet fluid-like breaths. The kind that has you breathing deep in through your nose when inhaling, allowing your belly to expand (picture your belly button moving out, away from you), and then slowly breathing out through your mouth as your belly button returns to your core.

After seeing the connection between quitting smoking, grieving, breathing, and stress management — I have tried making it a priority to periodically monitor my breathing throughout the day. This has not yet become a habit for me, but writing about it now is a good reminder to me to make it one! So, “as we speak”, I’m writing myself a breathing note to place by my computer. Something that I’ll see often throughout the day, to help remind me to check on my breathing. I know this will be a worthwhile effort because I’ve experienced in the past just how powerful a quick assessment of my breathing can be. It can instantly make me aware that I’m taking short, shallow, tense breaths — and this awareness gives me the much needed opportunity to correct my breathing. Ohhhh, I just took 3 BIG breaths as I’m writing about it. It feels SO good…surely something that promotes healing and good health.

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Using various forms of imagery has also been a great tool in helping me to reduce stress and get the most out of my breathing. Closing my eyes and simply envisioning my stomach expanding outward (as described above) usually puts me instantly at ease. Another imagery exercise I like to use is to close my eyes and picture a single tree that is full of leaves. I’ll imagine that each leaf represents a specific challenge or pain that I’m faced with. I’ll take a big, deep breath in, while simply acknowledging the presence of these challenges. Then, when my body is ready to exhale, I’ll begin to slowly release the air. During this exhale, I focus on a transition from acknowledging my challenge, to actually smiling at it. The simple act of smiling at them furthers the process of acceptance and peace. And during the exhale, with the image of my leafy tree present, I’ll envision my challenges as leaves that separate from the tree and begin to slowly fall to the ground. They float one by one, and mesmerize me with the beautiful and mysterious path they take to the fertile ground. This image is very calming to me.

Another of my favorite imagery techniques is to picture the dark areas within my body. The areas that hurt so much that they are filled with a solid mass of black, heavy, darkness. I begin to connect my image to my breathing. On my inhale I picture hope, in the form of a brilliant and bright heavenly light. I allow it to penetrate my chest, my soul, my mind, my limbs. I picture it traveling throughout my body at warp speed, like data traveling over some kind of digital super highway. This bright light is powerful and unstoppable, and with the ease of the strongest, surest warrior, it effortlessly begins to overcome my darkness. I picture it breaking up the darkness like a jackhammer—with pieces of debris flying everywhere. I picture it burning through the darkness as if it were a raging and unstoppable fire of hope and good. I keep inhaling and exhaling, slowly, fully, deliberately, until all the dark areas of my being have been destroyed—my entire body glowing and illuminated. I feel holy. I feel the presence of God.

I continue to explore and be fascinated with the incredible healing power of Breathing and Imagery.

 

TOUCH:
I believe physical contact/touch is highly undervalued. Sometimes words are not enough. Sometimes there are no words. Within the simple act of touch lies a tremendous power to fuel souls and ease pain.

Touch connects and comforts. Touch is a bridge providing instant access and relief to heartache. Even when I’m feeling completely balanced, I know physical contact is crucial to my health. Humans, from birth, need frequent touch to thrive. So I know it’s not any stretch to say, that during challenging times, it’s exceptionally crucial to have touch in my life.

I don’t have to look far to find proof of the magic of touch; it surrounds me. For the past four years David and I have volunteered to visit hospice residents at a local nursing home (see Ch4 for more on this). Most of the residents we have spent time with are bedbound, and when David and I sit next to them, I feel the power of even the simplest of physical connections. I make a conscious effort to make contact with them whenever possible—placing my hand on their ankle, forearm, shoulder, head, or holding their hand, giving a hug—all simple acts that have much to offer.

I can’t say that touch is always a completely natural thing for me to do. I sometimes am hesitant to touch because I am a guy. Stupid reason, I know, but true. I find it annoying when I blame others for my actions, but I think it’s fair to say that society plays a part in this—I haven’t been taught, on a consistent basis, that “touch” is an ok thing for a guy to do. So I continue to challenge my actions with my societal perceptions of what it means to be a man. Like with so many other things—when I’m at my finest, my actions come from the heart; when I’m at my weakest, my actions are rooted in what I think others want me to do. The former of the two is where I’d like to be; I’ve seen touch do too much good to live any other way.

Another significant grieving experience I’ve had with touch has more to do with receiving than giving. I am very grateful for a family friend who, shortly after Julie died, suggested that I start going to a massage therapist. I had never had a professional massage prior to this advice. I’m not sure exactly why, maybe because it seemed too personal? Or too expensive? I don’t know, but I’m so glad I decided to give it a try. And being that I was an un-employed student at the time, I was fortunate to discover that the rec center on the KSU campus offered discounted massages to students. I went and had my first massage and instantly felt the benefits. I remember leaving feeling like a new person, feeling all the tension gone in my body. The sensation was freeing and transforming. I have always been in tune with my body, and it wasn’t hard to recognize that massage offered something wonderful that was missing in my life. I left there a huge believer in the practice, and to this day have continued to get regular massages. I believe massage therapy is a form of health maintenance that is largely overlooked, and I predict that it will become much more accepted and sought after as a powerful way to maintain health—especially invaluable during times of grief and struggle.

Touch comes in many forms. Touch connects us. Touch heals.

Feet!
Daddy(31) & David(1)
March 2005

Wrestling!
July 2005

Love You!
Daddy(30) & David(9months)
July 2004

 

MUSIC:
“It’s impossible to be in a bad mood while playing the banjo.” 
~Steve Martin

“Perhaps it is music that will save the world.”
~Pablo Casals (1876 – 1973)

“I believe in music, the way that some people believe in fairy tales.”
~August Rush movie quote

My mind can easily see music in any one of the three categories I have broken Health into (Mind, Body, & Soul). For the sake of organization, I put it here, in the Body chapter, following my discussion of Touch. It seemed to fit as nicely here as anywhere, especially being that music originates as a form of touch (when sound waves travel through the air they eventually enter my ear—and literally touch me—starting the powerful chain reaction of events that takes place).

The power of music blows my mind. I see it as a life force that is capable of anything. It fascinates me to think about the numerous forms it can be delivered in. Right now, as I stop to listen to the music in my current world, I hear birds outside my window conversing—musically. I can hear my computer processor fan running, adding a soft and soothing hum to the mix. I can hear the sound of my fingers racing across the keyboard, trying to keep up with my thoughts; they sound like they’re tap-dancing. I can hear my own breath; slow, relaxed—contributing to my reflective state. Music is everywhere.

I’ve always been drawn to music, but since becoming a widower, have found myself connecting with sound on an even deeper level. I am very grateful for this because there have been many times, particularly when I’ve been in great distress, when music has spoken to me and come to my rescue. Is music the hand of God? I often wonder. Does God allow Julie to communicate with me once in a while through music? It sure seems like it. I’m as skeptical as the next guy when perplexing things occur; I like to analyze a situation, look at it from different angles, and reflect on the most likely earthly explanations. But some things, no matter how much thought I invest, are simply unexplainable. Some things are so unexplainable, that I find only one explanation to be satisfying—what I’m experiencing is Love Finding a Way.

One of my most memorable examples of this occurred on the day I said my final good-bye to Julie at the funeral home. After a surreal day of having loved ones come to support the family, and come to say good-bye to an open casket “Julie”, the time had come when everybody had gone home, and I was left in the room alone to say my own final good-bye. My father-in-law went to pull his car around, and said he’d wait for me outside the main entrance. I looked at the shell of my wife and felt a whirlwind of emotions. This was not the wife that I knew. In many ways it felt like I was saying good-bye to a stranger. The situation was so unfair. I said my good-bye’s, touched my wife’s hand for the last time, and made my way to the front entrance of the building where my father-in-law was waiting. I got in his car, and he put it into gear and started to slowly drive off. There was a heavy stillness in the air. As we started to pull away, he broke the silence by turning on the radio. Shania Twain’s song, From This Moment, “happened” to be playing. It instantly captured my attention. This song was very significant to Julie and me. When we were dating and first heard the song, we both agreed that it would make a perfect wedding song. The day I proposed to Julie, I secretly arranged for the DJ at the ice-skating rink we were at to play our song, and when it played, I got down on one knee and asked her to marry me. And we slow danced to the song, alone on the dance floor, at our wedding reception. There could not have been a more significant song that could have played on the radio at that moment.

Music is so mystifying to me, yet at the same time, so surprisingly simple. Music moves, fills, captures, provides—anything and everything.
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Wedding Dance
Eric(26) & Julie(24)
June 2000

 

PETS:
David and I take frequent bike or car rides to our local pet store. We love to visit with all the animals. We also love going to the zoo and have spent many memorable days at the Cleveland MetroParks Zoo, the Akron Zoo, and the Erie Zoo. And of course, we have our dear cat Zodi, who has brought our family endless amounts of love. Animals provide a physical connection and companionship that I’ve found to be very healing.
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David & Zodi
2008

2011

 

BOXING:
As far back as I can remember, I’ve been attracted to boxing. When I was around four years old, my dad bought me this inflatable four-foot plastic wobbly egg-shaped bag to strike. I had so much fun playing with that thing! Years later dad got my brother and me a speed bag and hung it in our basement. I loved the challenge of trying to get into a fast paced rhythm! The leather bag makes the coolest rousing sound as it strikes the wooden board and returns at warp speed, anxiously waiting to be sent back to where it came from! It’s a rhythmic rush!

I bought a heavy bag and steel stand during my high school years. This took boxing to a new level for me. I bought wrist wraps and gloves. I enjoyed watching fights on TV and studied the moves of some of the great professional fighters of the past and present. I would sometimes shadow box during the fights, doing my best to mimic the gladiators I saw on the screen.

I’ve found boxing to be an incredible full body workout. I’ve also found it to be a perfect activity for working through all the messy stuff that comes with grief. Like a boxer alone in the ring, ready to take on a prize fighter, I too enter my own ring, and continue to learn to dance and move against my opponent, Grief. A tough opponent that sometimes gets the best of me, but in the end, I assure you, I will be the last man standing. And I’m pretty sure I won’t win by knockout. I’ll win by respecting my opponent, and allowing him to make me better. I’ll win by learning when to move and slip his devastating punches, and I’ll gain his respect by landing a few of my own. I’ll study him, admire him, and work with him—not against him. I’ll leave the ring with my arm lovingly wrapped around grief. I’ll leave the ring fearless—because there’s nothing to fear, only to understand. I’ll leave the ring exhausted, complete as ever, and with a big smile on my face.
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Boxing with Daddy
Eric(32) & David(2)
October 2006

 

ALCOHOL & OTHER DRUGS:
I’m all too familiar with seeing alcohol & other drugs used with the intention to take pain away. Unfortunately, I’ve seen how it usually brings even more mess into an already tough situation. For these reasons, I have been very cautious about drinking to ease the pain of grieving. Growing up with an alcoholic family member has taught me to do a quick internal check before I drink—to ask myself whether or not I’m drinking to escape grieving feelings, or any other type of emotional difficultly. Grieving is hard enough to get through sober, and the last thing I want to do is become dependent on alcohol or other drugs as a way to cope with my challenges.

 

RUNNING:
While I enjoy just about any type of activity that puts my body in motion, my absolute favorite is running. Running renews me. It brings clarity, enthusiasm, and excitement to my life.

I run outdoors year round and enjoy all the personal challenges and rewards that come with it. I enjoy the repetitive and soothing motions. I enjoy jumping over obstacles in my way; when I’m running around my suburban neighborhood, some of my favorite runs are those on garbage day, when I can jump the piles of trash that are sitting out on tree lawns! I also love getting wet and running in the rain—feels like some sort of baptism. Or on snowy days, when I can use my long legs to leap on top of the mounds of snow that collect along the bottom aprons of driveways. I excitedly approach, then leap into the air, feeling like a superhero who has no clue that he’s just an average guy — then my feet and legs sink into the peak of the often crunchy snow pile. I quickly pull them out and carry on, feeling unstoppable, hungry for my next obstacle!

Running is a joyous event for me. It makes me feel at one with myself. I enjoy hearing myself breathe when I run. I enjoy all the physical monitoring that takes place when piloting my body. I enjoy the ability to overcome obstacles in a moment’s notice without having to think about it; I enjoy the beauty that comes with simply reacting, much like how I imagine it is for a wild animal. The way a squirrel reacts when it jumps six feet through the air from one tree limb to another. Does it question whether it will make it? No. It just instinctually reacts, with its body in perfect sync with its mind. Or the way a herd of animals runs together on an open plain—hooves pounding, dirt flying, bodies in rhythmic motion, in perfect harmony with the earth—musical, symphonic. They don’t think about being tired, they just go, and move, and be. I deeply enjoy that type of exchange with myself. Freeing.

There is one curvy-hill descent in our local MetroParks that is a favorite of mine. It’s narrow, uneven, filled with tree roots, and has the perfect amount of twists and turns. It’s slightly treacherous looking, but in a fun way, and I run down that hill without a worry in the world—and feel like I did when I was a kid, running down a big grassy hill, with gravity pulling, and feet planting and springing. Makes me get excited just thinking about it.

Those are some of the reasons I love to run. I find myself when I run. I feel so alive when I run. It can be exhausting at times, but I find it to be such a beautiful and worthwhile kind of exhaustion. When I was in my darkest moments of grief, running saved me, over and over again. Running and I are the best of friends.
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Cleveland Turkey Trot 5-Mile Run
completed over 40 organized races these past few years; our jogging stroller tires are bald!
Eric(36) & David(6)
November 2009

Edgewater Park 10-Mile Run
racing to the finish line with my brother Brian (#771)
April 2010

Erie Marathon
my first full marathon (26.2 miles);
a big running accomplishment for me

Running Group
with friends after a breathtaking snow covered 10K trail race
Cleveland MetroParks
February 2012

Warrior Dash
3-mile obstacle race
215th place out of 10,945
Carrollton, OH
September 2011

 

STAYING ACTIVE:
I strongly believe being engaged in various forms of physically activity is something I need to do every day. Being active, and making time for play, brings out the best in me and is absolutely essential to my well-being. From a health maintenance perspective, I could compare it to how I feel about brushing my teeth. Exercising and brushing my teeth are both things I need to do daily to maintain my health. I wouldn’t want to skip brushing my teeth for days on end, so why would I want to skip moving my body for days on end? My body was made to move, so I need to move it. And I don’t stress out about that fact, just like I don’t stress out about having to brush my teeth; it’s just something I see the value in making a priority in my life.

Playing/staying active brightens my days and makes me feel alive because it stimulates my senses, awakens my soul, and connects me to the joys of the world that surround me. Grief is to death, as play is to life!
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Cross-Country Skiing
with my uncle and cousin
Winter 2011

Hiking
with my mom, Cheryll, & David
Fall 2005

kite + beach = happiness

Disc Golf
with David(7) at scenic Osborne Park,
along Lake Erie in Willoughby, OH
(one of many free disc golf courses)

Wiffle-Ball
in the snow!
December 2006

Bowling

Biking Fun

Yeeee-Haaaa!

Roller Skating
December 2005

Putt-Putt
June 2005

Summer Swim
July 2005

Rock Wall Climb
June 2008

Cleveland MetroParks
studying a tree before a trail run;
being surrounded by nature fills us both with wonder and happiness
Eric(30) & David(9months)
July 2004

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Staying physically active continues to make enormous contributions to my overall health, and it has, without question, been a huge asset for me when it comes to living with grief. Exercise and play soften grief because they get the body moving and involve activities that are so full of life!

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