4 Tips on making decisions after loss

So, I’m more than two and a half years into this new life after loss, and the following sums up my wise takeaway message on the topic of decision making after the death of a loved one:

 1.         Expect to make a mess of mistakes

2.         Forgive yourself

3.         Keep moving forward

4.         Repeat

Holy cow. I’ve made so many crazy decisions since Ben’s death. Early on, most were knee-jerk decisions I was sure would make me feel better. They were made with the conviction to move forward, or away from, the crushing pain. They were made thinking how smart I was to be confident in my steps out of grief.

So the first tip is, expect to make mistakes. For example, I probably should not have sold the dream house I was living in, the one in a town surrounded by friends and family, and move to a brand-new town on a remote island in Alaska where I only knew one person. I probably needed support and familiarity over escape. Duh.

Other decisions were made in the name of “retail therapy,” which mostly resulted in being stressed financially. We happened to enter retirement simultaneously with the death of our son, and thus were ushered into a new, unfamiliar world of fixed income. We’ve had to reevaluate everything we’ve thought about spending money. Yes, impulsive, reckless decisions were made and now must rectified.

 So, after the acknowledgement of my lists of dumb decisions, on to the next step.

Tip number two isn’t that easy, but I’m learning to forgive myself. I don’t really need other people’s forgiveness. As much as the people-pleasing gene is hardwired inside me, the chaos of death stripped much of that away. I’m okay not being okay in the eyes of others. In the beginning, I’d say yes to invitations and then back out all the time. People understood my post-death excuses. But I’ve had a hard time giving myself the same grace. I hate feeling stupid in my decisions and consequences.

 But I rest in that fact that God doesn’t think I’m stupid. He wasn’t upstairs wringing his hands as I signed the purchase agreement and escaped to Alaska. He saw the rocky path ahead of me, how lonely I would be leaving my friends and family, how I would long for my home. He has so gently redeemed many of my decisions, guiding me to find my place and purpose in unexpected ways. He’s got me.

Tip three. Just keep moving. Everyday. I’ve learned that there are times to take a sideways pause to cry and feel sorry for myself, reevaluate. And then, I might take some tentative baby steps toward this new life, or I might make big, sloppy giant steps. Either way, steps are better than the paralysis of hopelessness. Do it. Try to make decisions that change where you’re stuck.

Step four. Repeat the first three steps. I know I will make more mistakes. My brain seems flawed by grief and my broken heart just wants what it wants sometimes to feel better. I still cry too much and waste days in despair. But hopefully there will be less days like this, less flawed decisions, less tears.

Will I ever feel differently? Will I wake up one day and pat myself on the back for a spectacular decision. I don’t necessarily trust that. I was confident in some of my bad choices. But I’ve been told grief morphs and evolves, even though I’ll always carry it. I expect decisions in the future will be made with less impulse, and more heart wisdom gained from the grief I’ve lived through.

So, if you’re beating yourself up today for “not doing grieving right,” just stop. Know there are broken people like me making real stupid decisions too. We’ll get through this. One stupid, sacred, sideways, step at a time.