Loser

When was the last time that you felt like a LOSER? Did you lose a contest or a game? Did you lose your home or a friend? Was it an investment or an opportunity for a job? Your credit card or Wifi service? A loved one or a pet? There are so many ways to lose. You might’ve felt the vacancy of the abyss or relished the space that the loss provided. 

Perhaps you lost weight or a toxic relationship with someone else or even yourself. Maybe you lost a duty or responsibility that was taking more from you than it was giving. Maybe it was a tooth that was causing you great pain, or a gallbladder or a wart! Who wouldn’t want to eradicate these last items from their lives? My point is that losing is a natural part of life but feeling like a loser is not something that we should allow ourselves to do for too long; that is, it is wise to allow ourselves to feel and express the pain of loss and then allow ourselves self-compassion. 

In Secrets of the Vine, Bruce Wilkinson wrote that the vineyard caretaker tends to each branch carefully, pruning, to make way for greater harvest, healthier and more plump grapes. Pruning ensures that the sunlight can get to all fruit-bearing branches therefore encouraging new more abundant fruit to develop. I think that this is true: the universe conspires for our highest good. When I feel the pain of loss, I hold onto that. 

I remember letting go of the house on Dakin, a home that I had raised my girls in, a home that I owned for over 33 years. This was a painful process, letting go of the spaces that I loved and the familiarity of the nooks and crannies. In my heart I knew that losing the house would allow for other things to come in. Nonetheless, I cried many a tear as we went through the process. When I drove away from Dakin for the last time, I turned back to see a little girl in the window, waving to me. My loss created a warm gain for her, a lovely family home. 

So many celebrities and athletes, musicians, scholars and investors have lost in very public ways. Andrea Bocelli, Elton John, No Doubt, Taylor and Cher have won and lost. Vanessa Williams lost her Miss America crown. Robert Downey Jr. lost the admiration and respect of fans worldwide. Rocky and Creed lost some boxing matches. In the recent movie, Leslie, a woman loses her lottery fortune. While I found myself mostly wanting to run from her, I was cheering her on the whole time. She spends most of the movie looking like a LOSER. Watching this movie, I found myself feeling shame about my own life, feeling like a LOSER.

I came to Arizona after losing the battle for Emily, lost a few jobs, lost money by overspending, lost my car in a terrible accident, and yesterday lost my bike to a thief. Living in a 500sq foot studio, so many of my belongings left behind or given up, sometimes I feel like nothing more than a loser. There are sad days. Days when I miss my house, my car, my dogs, my friends, my bike, my daughters. Especially my daughters. Some days it’s harder than others to put one foot in front of the other. It seems that pieces of my identity have been eradicated and I am still regrouping, working to not let the “loser feelings” of shame and fear take over.

I have become a grandmother and although it is the greatest joy of my life, it reminds me of my mortality. It’s changed who I am. I am no longer a young person. My existence is limited. Now I am a tenant, no longer a  homeowner. I have become unemployed although just started teaching yoga. I am no longer a dog owner. I am responsible for an accident. I have become a mother of one surviving, grieving child and a bereaved mother of 2. I am a resident of Arizona. I am no longer a resident of Chicago, something that I held so dear to my heart. And I am mostly certain that my nursing career is behind me. These shifts in identity have caused me so much insecurity, so much uncertainty. I didn’t realize the security and safety that a long-standing career gave me. I didn’t know that being without a car would make me feel like more of a loser. Actually I thought that I would feel more “green”. Not. I feel embarrassed and limited. Detachment from my nursing career creates a vastness of isolation that I did not expect. This is a spiritual crisis. I have felt this before. It feels bad. 

I have felt, at times, that I wanted to leave nursing and create a career in health and wellness that was more holistic and spiritual in nature. Nursing, for me, had a time and space. I wanted to relocate. I wanted a smaller space. I wanted many of the changes that have occurred. I made some of these decisions, decisions that sometimes make me feel like a loser. And other things have been decided for me. I had no say so in having the accident or in losing my daughters. 

So, what to do when you feel this dilemma, this uncertainty of life, this spiritual crisis?

I allow myself to experience the pain and perhaps have a good cry. I allow myself some space to be in it but then encourage myself to move out of it. I gather up resources: phone my friends and therapist. I reorganize my financial resources. I apply for jobs. I work on this website and on my Health and Wellness Coach training. I listen to inspiring podcasts and read motivational material. I meditate. I have music on, impeding the defeating thoughts from getting “in”. I work out. I spend time with my little Lennie, playing and discovering the world around us. Sometimes I listen to church online. I go to my grief group. I must support myself to keep going. And somedays I completely fail at it and spend the day binging on Netflix.

I don’t know how all of this will end. I’m chasing a dream: the dream of becoming a Health and Wellness Coach to help people to feel better about their lives. I’m creating something beautiful through my writing and website. I believe that my deepest grief, my integrated sorrow will help people to relate to me and hopefully give them hope.  I know that this is why I am here. And I’m getting lots of love from Lennie, in the meantime. She wants me and loves me and is excited to have me around no matter what I do or how I’m feeling. 

We must, when we feel like a LOSER, find a way to better ground. My story right now might not be cheerful, but in a year from now I want to believe that I’ll look at it as the “pruning” of my life.

Some things needed to go, to make way for something better. I hope, I hope, I hope.  

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