As I’ve written about, and many readers know, in early 2007 I lost my beloved husband Charly to suicide. They were dark days, both before and after his death. To help deal with the myriad of emotions that came with losing my best friend and soulmate in such a horrific manner, I filled my little world with books on grief, affirmations of hope, texts on how to manage anger and guilt. And on and on. The mirror in my bathroom was filled with printouts of song lyrics that were meaningful, mini-posters of hope, cards that were sent to me, etc. It looked like a Hallmark Store Grief Outlet. As the months and years went on, I healed and was able to put away the cards and printouts.
There’s one though, that I relied upon early on, and that was never put away. It’s on the wall in my little camper right now.
In 2007 and beyond, by some miracle I knew (or others smashed into my brain/heart) that the only way through the grief was to do the hard work. The scary things. The phrase “Do One Thing Every Day That Scares You”, was a mantra that got me through several years. It was useful in its simplicity and directness. Moving — scary. Changing jobs – scary. Getting my very first dog, going to my first party as a single person, facing the first birthday alone, going alone to places that Charly and I had loved — all scary. But after awhile, doing scary things required less mindfulness — it became more habit.
Ten years later, this year, as I got really serious about making this change in my life — selling my cute little home that I loved and leaving my steady job to LIVE IN A VAN — I returned to a little more mindful approach of the “scary” aspect. I knew that there would be risk involved. And that it wouldn’t always be fun. But for me, moving forward, which means doing scary things sometimes, is the only way to have an interesting life — to make tracks.
“Do One Thing Every Day That Scares You” — that’s a keeper.
Trax – “It’s ok, we have her two feet and our eight paws. We’ve got this”.
Thank you all for following along with us!
Eileen, great post. Word perfect and picture perfect.
Thank you Patti… it seemed like the right time to share this message .
You’ve had a whole year that was scary…and you conquered it! I am humbled to know you!
:-)
Awesome, awesome post, Eileen Thanks for sharing everything with us!
And thank you for reading and commenting 😊
Thanks Eileen. So inspiring.
You got this! I don’t know a stronger, more fearless person than you. Thanks for sharing and keeping us all with you on your journey!
“Fearless”. That’s a description to live up to, Armstrong. I will work on it 😊.
I loved reading this blog because as I was reading it, I could hear your voice as though you were sharing this with me over lunch. You are a great writer and this blog touched me deeply. I wish I could give you a hug right now. But, you’re an amazing, resilient lady and I’m so proud that we’re friends. So glad Sally and Trax are with you on this journey you are on. Thank you for sharing this personal story 😊
Oh Yvette, thank you. Whenever I hear you say “lunch” I think of Times Square 😊
I love this! We all need to remind ourselves to push ourselves. Miss you!
This is so inspiring, Eileen. Thanks for sharing! ❤️
OH MY!!! (Tears in my eyes) the flashbacks this brought up!!! You know, my friend, that I was raised to believe that all things happen for a reason…even if we never truly know in this life what the reason is. But when I joined the team where you were employed and was told by our employer that you and I would be great friends…that became one of the few blessings from that employment experience…and in my heart I believe our paths were meant to cross…and how thankful I am for the Lord’s blessing of your friendship!!! Beautiful post…keep doing those scary things…and stay safe!!! Miss you my friend…
💚
And there are those of us who didn’t know, so I am sure it was scary putting this post out there to share with us, too. Thanks, Eileen. Your post has brought tears to my eyes. I have always seen you as a strong, independent lady, especially this past year as you have so determinedly set into motion your dream of living on the road.
We are loving reading your posts, and you certainly are making the most of your travels with Sally and Trax. You are definitely braver than me!
Looking forward to seeing you this winter.
Dear, dear, Eileen, the soul is immortal. Soul groupings incarnate together on Earth for many different reasons, over and over again. The ending of a life experience, a physical death, is not the end of the soul. Not easy to understand while in the Earth with a throttled consciousness, but Charly will always be with you, with me.
After returning to Ohio and receiving your call about Charly’s death the following day, I could sense Charly falling deeper and deeper into a state of profound remorse for what he had done, for the pain and loss his action would bring to those he loved most. Such a state of remorse after death can cause a soul to block all efforts of help, of rescue, sometimes for hundreds of years in Earth time.
After three days of intense prayer for Charly, I had a vivid dream of being with him in an outside cafe on a bright and sunny day. He indicated that his helpers said he could only visit with me for a short time and thereafter he went with them willingly. Again, his remorse was profound for what he had done but, thankfully, he had finally reached out for help after this death. With suicides, most are encourage to incarnate, again, right away.
I fondly remember the first time I met Charly in Lexington, Kentucky – his curiosity, his sincere desire to help people and your marriage at the Unity Church. I have so many good memories of you both, like the following time Linda and I visited your home in Phoenix:
After arriving at your home in our motorhome, Charly took me out back to show me some yard work he had done and a sparrow hawk suddenly took out a bird in the pine tree right over our heads. Then, a woman knocked on your front door and asked, “Have you seen my parrot, he got away from me.” And, she went on to describe the parrot and left her phone number in case the bird showed up there. A little time later, Charly took me out the front door to look at his lemon bushes and a black, pot-bellied pig was running free down the street right in front of your house. I gave a quick glance over at Charly and said, “This place is a zoo!” And, we both had a good laugh.
Charly will always be with us. We love you both.
Thanks for sharing. I am not great at doing “scary things” Sometimes I am afraid of sitting in my beautiful back yard at night alone. I thought about how brave and adventuresome you are. I poured a glass of wine and sat outside. Adventure is in my blood, but not alone.
Keep on tracking and thanks for your wonderful blog. Hugs to you and my two furry friends
I miss your wonderful Charly as well. I have in my office pictures of the most favorite men in my life and say hi every morning My dad, my son and Charly.
I miss
Hi Eileen-just simply beautiful! You are extraordinary! I (we) hope our paths cross once again!
Steve and Libby Michaud