♫♪ Acid In Your Pocket ♫♪

There are times when life doesn't turn out the way we envisioned it and, it is at these times, that our body responds in a way to match our grief, anger and frustration. We create an 'acid pocket'. To try and give you an idea how this works, lets look at when we wear a pair of tight shoes that give us a blister on our heel. The blister 'puffs up' and fills with a fluid to help us repair the damage we have done.
The same is true when we are going through grief and anger, but it works a little differently. We may develop warts, mouth ulcers, cracks in our tongues, swollen bellies, or our tears may burn like acid as they course down our cheeks. Although this isn't a similar healing fluid that we may find in burns and blisters, it does have it's own purpose. It reminds us that we aren't feeling/looking/tasting the sweetness in life.
If we address what is happening around us, and our reaction to it, we discover that these little 'acid pockets' dissipate, and life goes back to 'normal'. However, if we refuse to acknowledge our pain, hurt, frustration and sadness, the pocket can become bigger or affect us in more ways. Our body is designed to heal itself on a physical level, but on an emotional level, it needs us to meet it halfway.
It has been said that our pH level is extremely important; that as far as cancer is concerned an acidic environment allows it to flourish. It has also been said that our emotions are an important aspect of a cancer journey. Most cancer locations alert us to what emotion/area of our life needs addressing. Now of course there are people who will pooh-pooh this theory, because that is what it is. However, I often see the connection between site and hurt in my healing work, and to me this makes total sense.
Part of our problem is that we believe that when things 'go wrong' that we have lost control over our life, thanks to an event or situation that has had an impact on us, when really we never had the control to begin with. Life isn't controlled by us, neither does it control us. Life happens around us, and what we choose to do with it is the driving force between an event and what happens next. Sometimes we need to look at our re-action and understand what is happening within that is being triggered by it.
So, if  you are tasting acid, if you are crying acid, if there is an acid pocket in your life, perhaps it is time to look at it a little differently and understand yourself, your emotions and your body a little more to assist in the healing process.

Christmas Can Make You Tired...

Underneath the hustle and bustle of Christmas, there is a deeply hidden layer of sadness and pain for those of us desperately missing our loved ones as this happy family occasion approaches. Sure we hide it deep below, thrusting it to the bottom of our To Do List, trying to avoid those feelings that make it nigh impossible to enjoy the festive season. Sometimes we can feel like a child who has discovered that fairy tales aren't real, there is no happy ending and there never will be.

The thought of an empty space at the table this year crushes our soul, leaving a dry dusty taste in our mouth. It doesn't matter whether its for the first time or more, the pain of Christmas without someone we love doesn't have a time limit or expiry date.

With all kinds of grief, guilt can rear its ugly head and ask us if we loved and cherished them enough and did they know the height and depths of our love. Thoughts and memories can flicker through our 'home theatre', bringing up events and situations that are best left on the editing room floor. Special Occasions have a habit of dredging up old pain, hurts and anguish.

As we walk around the shopping centres, we try not to notice couples walking hand in hand; the excitement as they choose gifts for others and surprise each other with tender well thought out gifts. Some of us find it difficult to be a part of the joy that is the festive season, we'd rather just hide away from the world, but thats not how it works is it? Life goes on whether we want to be a part of it or not. There are obligations and duties to be met, even at Christmas. We avoid the card stands shouting 'To My Darling Wife/Partner At Christmas', or 'To The Man I Love At Christmastime'. We already know that looking will only create that damp and prickly feeling behind our eyelids. Often we will catch ourselves sighing as we look at 'couple presents' or gifts that would have been ideal for that special person who has passed. As we listen to couples bickering and badgering each other as they pass, we want to reach out and shake them, reminding them how lucky they are to be together; to be able to share such precious moments that we can never have again. In a far off thought, we know that we won't have that wonderful pleasure of waking up next to our significant other and relishing the best gift of all, a Christmas morning snuggle.

If we have lost a parent, then this time of year brings a different kind of pain. Those that brought us into the world are no longer here to share the joy of this Christmas, as well as the memories of our childhood misdemeanors and achievements. Celebrating without those who loved us, no matter what we said or did while they were alive, is harder than hard. The joy of greeting, the hugs, smiles and innate connection we have with our parents cannot be replicated within any relationship. Even if we weren't as close as some, or as we would have liked to be, there was an intangible thread that was woven around and though us all, and somehow, made us part of a whole.

Celebrating Christmas after a child has passed has its own tumultuous heights and despairing lows. We all believe our children will out-live us. They have so much ahead of them, that we would have wished for them to experience and be a part of. It doesn't matter how old our child was, the pain is still heart-stoppingly deep and pain drenched. There are no words that can possibly explain that knife twisting ache, as we see other babies, children, teenagers or adults enjoying the build up to the festive season. We often imagine what our child would be doing at this time of the year, what amazing gifts they brought into our lives by just being here. If there are other family members of the same age, it can make it difficult to visit various departments of stores, knowing we won't be buying anything for our child. As Christmas fast approaches, we feel an ache that nothing can ease, as we imagine a day without that special part of our life, the child we created, the person we knew for all of their short life.

Often the pain of what we have lost makes it hard to appreciate what we have right here, right now. Sometimes we need to remember that those who have passed never really leave us, for we have only to think of them and their voice or face will appear within our memory. The love we feel for them remains locked in our hearts. No one can take that away, It can't be stolen, dwindled or diminished. Although they aren't around us physically, they are still here, as we discuss the joys and disasters of Christmas past. As we eat their favourite foods, we bring them into our circle of love, those fond memories creating a softness around us and this day. Sure there will be tears amongst the laughter and happiness of a Christmas Day, and thats perfectly normal, because that is a part of honouring the amazing connection we have and will always have with those who have passed from this world.

If we aren't fortunate enough to have a Christmas surrounded by family and friends, Christmas Day can be just another day of pain and grief. If this is what your Christmas Day looks like, please reach out to a family member, friend or even a neighbour, allow them to know how much you are dreading this day. There is no pride in grief, pride just prevents us from connecting with the world around us. We are not a rock or an island. We do need others to help us through the tough times. There is no weakness in reaching out or admitting that Christmas sucks big time for us. Make this your Christmas gift to you - let those who care about you know how you are feeling. Allow them to help. You would do the same if the roles were reversed. Above all, be kind to you!
Big Hugs
Cherie xx

Writing A Eulogy (excerpt from my book)

I wanted to write a special eulogy for Butch, to tell everyone what a wonderful and accomplished man he was, how everyone loved and respected him.

 I began writing the night after he passed and it began to ‘do my head in’. I was awake almost all night, writing about his achievements, trying to remember everything I could, but my mind was totally blank.

After three sleepless nights I complained to my brother Andre how difficult it was, explaining what I was trying to say. He suggested I might be better off focusing on saying why Butch was special to me. It was great advice and the words flowed from that thought.

A eulogy isn't about what you have achieved in life, it is about the impact you have made on others or the way you lived your life. Once I let go the belief that I had to talk about his ambitions and his successes and focused on the real person that was Butch I could talk with authority and love.

Some eulogies are all about making out how incredibly talented and successful someone is and that's fine if you want to write it like that. We're all different and have our own perception of how a eulogy needs to be written, but for me, a eulogy written from the heart was a great way to show how special Butch was. 

(excerpt from Grieving with Honour by Cherie Nobbs)

Don't Let Others Taint Your Story

I went for a job interview as a masseuse the other day. I am trying to wear my 'big girl pants' these days, so when she asked me to tell her a little bit about myself, I said. 'I'm 53, an author, a widow, and I've love massage and what it does for others....'
She cocked her head to one side and said to me, 'Sorry, could you repeat that?'
Now, although I am 'admitting' I am a widow, this part of my speech is said with such speed, you need supersonic hearing to be able to 'catch the words'.
I repeated everything, except the widow bit, and she said 'No, you said something else, what was it?'
I 'fessed up and told her the bit I had omitted. She gave me that 'look' that people do and said she was sorry. I tend to get flippant when people say things like that. I am a complex creature, I admit it! I don't want others to be sorry or feel sorry for me. My life is what it is. The judges decision is final. No correspondence will be entered into. ...and then I wonder sometimes if I would just consider others to be hard hearted bastards for not saying anything... It hasn't happened yet, so maybe that will be the subject of another blog...
Anyway, back to my 'interview'. The woman asked me a question. 'So what did you learn from his living, and his dying?'
May I say that these are so not the questions one expects in a job interview, and as a person still going through a grief expedition, not at all something I wanted to contemplate with a complete stranger.
Before long, she had me in tears. She knew which buttons to push, what direction to twist the knife that is my grief and how to make me feel as if I wasn't coping with my world at all. When I tried to stop the flow of tears, she told me I needed to 'sob'.
...as if I haven't...on countless occasions!
We were sitting in a coffee shop and there was no way I wanted to let this woman see how her harsh words were affecting me. I gathered my thoughts, pulled myself up tall, erected my protective wall and tried to get myself together again.
Recognising that she had crossed a line and that she wasn't going to get past that wall I had just put up between us, she said 'Well, thats enough counselling for you today. Now, lets talk about why you want to get a job here.'
There was really no point in going any further. There is no way I would work for someone who would want to find my Achilles heel, who would know just how to create pain within my world because she could.
She tried to create a connection by telling me that her son had passed away 8 years ago, but clearly the way I was going through or handling my grief was incorrect and she hadn't experienced it in the way I had. Read: I was wrong.
As I was leaving, she turned to me and said 'Well, no matter what happens, we were meant to meet today. I was meant to talk to you and you were meant to learn from me.'
And you know what, she was right. I was meant to learn from her, and I learnt this.
*A part of 'putting on my big girl panties' during my grief expedition does not entail telling anyone I am a widow, unless its relative.
*There will always be people who will try to tell me that my way of handling my grief is wrong or not right.
*I don't want to work for anyone who's main objective is to make me feel 'less than', so they can feel all powerful.
*Everyone has a story, but their story ain't my story and mine has no bearing on theirs.
*I still find it difficult to talk openly about my grief with others
*I am doing a great job being who I am and experiencing my grief in my own unique way.
Everyone has a story
Big hugs
Cherie xx

It's a Shame When its a Sham!

There are predators out there in the big bad world, who like to prey on those of us who are on a grief expedition. They know how desperate we are to 'connect' with our loved ones who have passed over. They know we would do anything to bring them back, so being able to hear what they have to say, even if it's through someone else, is priceless and immeasurable.
I know, because I have been there. I have been told by various psychics on many occasions what Butch has to say to me. Its funny how, for the most part, what he has to say coincides with the agenda of the person telling me. This can range from allowing them to usurp my power or feeling as if I had no choices, to wanting to extort money from me, all in the name of connecting me with my loved ones on the other side.
When I finally realised what was happening, I felt like such a fool. Hindsight can be such a bitch. As I look back, I can see that I fell for every hook they threw my way. I wanted to believe so much that I made things fit where they had absolutely no way of fitting. I thought I was the only one who had been hoodwinked. I was wrong.
I guess I felt it a little more keenly because I am a psychic. Unfortunately I can't 'do' a reading for me. I can't 'see' my spirit family in the same way I can see other people's, because I know too much about me and about them. There is no validation, because my skeptic says to me 'Hah! But you already knew thats what they looked like or what they would have said. They were a part of your life for so long!
However, when I read for someone else, its different. It's cut and dried. It fits or it doesn't. I have no idea who the person is or what the connection is. I love it when the reading resonates. I may not sugar coat it, but every word I pass on is given with love, respect and integrity.
Lately I have heard of others who have been through the same kind of experience I did in my early days. They too have been desperate enough to 'hear' what their loved ones have to say, that they have paid ludicrous amounts of money. They have been given negative, false and evil advice from their family in spirit. They have been told that unless they do, their loved one will cease to 'talk' to them. WTF?!
If we allow these people to get away with this sort of shit, we are no better than they are. I wonder if I had written a 'tell all' blog about my experience whether I could have saved other people from heartache. Maybe. Maybe not....
Our loved ones will never say bad stuff. They will not tell you negative and mean things. They don't need to. All that negative shit is a part of a human existence, not a spiritual one. All regrets, guilt, pain, suffering, anger, revenge, etc is gone. It dies with the physical form. From where they are its just love and they want us to know we are loved, that they will be there waiting for us when its time for us to 'go home'.
Before you spend copious amounts of money, ask yourself: 'Would my loved one want or expect me to pay this much to hear from them?' And if you think the answer is yes, ask yourself why it is that you believe that more money means that the psychic is more powerful or better able to connect. There are plenty of wonderful and amazing psychics out there, and they don't all need to empty your bank account to pass on messages of love and support from our loved ones.
And if you are told something bad, negative or evil, ask yourself: 'Would my loved one really say that?' ...and know the answer is 'NO!'
Take note of my experience and others. Trust your instincts. Watch out for Grief Vultures. ...and if you do fall for a smooth talking psychic, don't feel bad or sad. You won't be the first. You won't be the last...but hey, that could be the 'last' time you fell for it! Grief is a huge learning curve in so many many ways.
Be strong. Trust you. Show discernment. Remember that your loved ones are not interested in making or keeping you poor, sad, scared or unhappy in any way. They love you. More than you will ever know!
Big Hugs
Cherie xx

I'm a 'don't'!

Grief sux! I wish I could tell you it gets better, that eventually, you will carry on as if the big gap in your life had been repaired like an open cut does. I'd love to tell you that something else fills that huge grand canyon that is left inside of you after someone passes over. I would be pleased to tell you that it only takes 'x' amount of days/months/weeks, before you feel whole again. And lets face it, for some people it is as easy as that. For some people, they seem to be more resilient, or perhaps they realise they are lucky to be here and that they should make the most of every moment of every day. I don't know why it is that some people bounce back, while others don't.
I'm a don't. I still miss Butch every day. I still feel pain when I imagine my life without him. I am so frickin envious when I see elderly couples walking hand in hand, and I know I have been cheated out of this. I hate it when people talk about how annoying or awful their partner/spouse is, because they have no idea what it will be like if they weren't around. I am tired of explaining that I'm not interested in jumping into bed with anyone just because I haven't had a partner for a while. Yep, I'm very much a 'don't'!
However, the experience of being a 'don't', has made me an awesome and understanding listener, when others are going through their own grief expedition. I am more human as a result of my experience, because to be honest, I don't believe I appreciated how others were truly affected by grief before Butch passed. It was one of 'those things' that happen to other people.And I guess, in  my eyes, those that I knew who went through it, seemed to be okay. They seemed to be 'handling it' well. I never knew how much was hidden below the surface, that was never exposed or revealed to others because of our attitude to grief.
So, when we are struck by grief, we don't know how to act. We have no concept of the right or wrong way, but we do know that almost no one really wants to be reminded of our sadness, loss and grief. Society's laws hide behind the fake smiles and the platitudes, not daring to delve beneath the surface.
When we lose someone we love, we lose a part of our identity, because we can never be the same person we were while we were with/around them. Because of this, its almost like we have to rebuild ourselves again, to redefine who we are now they are gone. It can be a long and slow process, as well as a heartbreaking one.
Did you know that we are joined to those we love by an invisible cord that comes from our solar plexus - around our navel area? When they leave their physical form that cord snaps, and that's why when someone passes we feel intense pain or can't hold ourselves upright. Did you know that we can reconnect the spiritual cord that we've always had, but we forgot existed, to help us to feel still connected to them? ...and all we have to do is visualise, ask or say it's so for it to reconnect?
Did you know that feeling guilty is one of the biggest and baddest emotions (besides the obvious ones of pain, loneliness and sadness) we experience during our grief expedition. We can sometimes wonder if we are suffering from a karmic lesson. Well, I'm sorry, I don't believe there is such a thing as karma, its a belief that we need to be punished, so we create it to ensure we get our 'just desserts'.
Guilt is something that affects us deeply when we grieve. It makes huge mountains out of tiny mounds and its hard to remember all the good stuff, because there is all this negative guilt and regret playing out in our head. Everything is black and white, not gray allowed. We were either good or bad, and mostly we pick bad... just sayin'
Losing someone sucks big-time! Its hard knowing we will never see them in the physical form again. One last hug, one last kiss, one last 'anything' would be so awesome....

Releasing Anger Can Be Liberating....

written November 2010
It has been just over two years since Butch has passed.  I never got angry about his passing, about being left behind, about being alone and  lonely.  To be honest, I'm not one of those people that gets angry, except when I turn it inside.  Well, now it is starting to come out whether I want it to or not...  The anger I am holding is has turned into a huge angry rash that is driving me crazy.  It won't go away, no matter what I do or take for it. To make matters worse, my tears have turned to acid once again - a sure sign I'm feeling sad and angry.I think it's time for me to release this anger.
I am having trouble sleeping again, as if struggling with the day to day stuff  isn't enough, now I can't even close my eyes and pretend it's not happening! I've been waking up at 3am every day for a week (according to the body time chart, this is the time of anger), so it is time to take action...
I decided to make a date with myself to smash 'stuff' tonight (Friday night). I am meant to be going to my daughter's in Brisbane for the weekend, but I told her I have something 'urgent' to do tonight. I'm assuming that everyone who has a life will be out and I won't have to worry too much about being heard. 
Breaking anything is extremely hard for me, as I'm the sort of person who buys a dinner set from the op shop with the intention of smashing it and then gets caught up in the thought that this set belonged to someone who once loved it, or by smashing it, I am depriving someone else of the pleasure of this ugly dinner-set!
Tonight, I've gone through the house picking everything out that no longer needs to be kept, whether its a coffee jar (which I have been stockpiling), a partial bottle of alcohol left behind by visitors to a medicine bottle I kept from when Butch was alive.  To give me a bit of dutch courage, I am playing loud music (Meatloaf - one of our favourite cds). I'm having a couple of drinks (I'm not a drinker) before I begin to go 'crazy' in my grief of all that was and all that cannot be.
I have prepared the spot where I am going to smash these items and I sure am hoping this will be a liberating and healing experience.
I gave up smoking a while ago, but I am doing that as well. It's time to get the anger involved with why I smoke and how angry it makes me feel when I do out of the way also.  They taste awful, as does the booze, but I'm hoping that by doing all the things I hate, because they indicate I have no control, I am hoping to purge them as well.
I'm not a screamer either and I am hoping the alcohol will loosen those restrictions I place on myself.
Yes, I am a planner but I know if I try to do this spontaneously, it will never happen.  I apologise to my liver and lungs in advance for what I am about to do to them.
I need to do this for self preservation, the rash is only the tip of the iceburg and if I don't do something soon, I know will end up really sick. It has taken over way too much of my body and I just want to peel my skin off so it will stop!
An hour later....
It wasn't as easy as I thought it would be. The first few things I threw bounced! Bounced! I said in a loud voice 'I am angry because I feel cheated out of the old age Butch and I were going to share...'. As I watched it bounce, I had a giggle and told myself I clearly wasn't angry enough! I started small after that - I found out light-bulbs make a very satisfying noise as they explode. I was right in the swing of it by the time I'd finished, screaming like a wild banshee and it was kinda disappointing when I'd run out of things to throw. My shoulder is a bit sore though, and my throat is a little raw.
Although I was going to clean up in the morning, I decided to clean up after I had laid waste to my pile of glass and crockery,  I didn't see any point in waking up to it. It was ironic that after I had finished destroying all my 'disposable' items, I didn't know  what my next move should be.  Did I stay sad and morbid afterwards? I hadn't planned that far ahead.
As I was sweeping all the debris towards the garage door, I noticed some lights flashing underneath it. (in my tipsy state I told myself it was probably a little too early for UFOs) I heard a knock and a voice saying 'Please open the door'.
As I lifted the door, I was surprised to find two police persons on the other side.
I am a cadbury girl - in other words a glass and a half is all that it takes for me to be more than a little tipsy - so my first words were 'Sorry, my husband passed away just over two years ago, and I've been purging my anger.' 
They told me quite a few of my neighbours had been concerned enough to ring when they heard things smashing and screaming coming from the premises.  I was impressed the police had been notified, especially as I don't have a lot to do with my neighbours and said so.
The policeman said to me they obviously were a little worried and had rung as I was normally a quiet person.  He suggested next year I could play Meatloaf but buy a punching bag in the interim.
I said I thought the music was playing loud enough to disguise the noise and the police lady told me it was obviously not loud enough. 
How fortunate was I that they were such good sorts? 
I explained about my issues with breaking things and that it took a lot of effort on my part to do so, as we all eyed up the huge pile of broken glass on my garage floor. 
The policeman told me he loved Meatloaf, that he had grown up with it, and I could still play that as I vented my anger - on a punching bag, ( I get the feeling he was trying to make a point, but what could it have been?!)
As they were talking to me Butch and my song 'Two outta three ain't bad' was playing, so I had a quiet laugh, knowing he was probably somewhere having a giggle too.
My life has always been like that, all huge moments in my life had ended on a tragically funny, or at least comical note - and clearly this was another one of them!
They asked my full name and I couldn't help but think, 'Hmm, if I ever get famous, this won't look good!'  They also asked if I would mind providing my date of birth. I told them, adding 'I am over 50 and really should know better!'
I thanked them for coming and asked if it was okay to give them both a hug before they left, which they both did with good humour.
Smashing stuff and venting my anger was truly liberating, I feel lighter and as if I have truly released something that has been holding me back.  I don't think I need to do it again.  I feel bad about my poor neighbours, but I am grateful to know someone cares enough to call the authorities.
After I tidied up, I rang a couple of good friends and we all had a huge laugh at my expense.  I find it amusing to think I, who have never been in trouble with the police, finally created a ruckus at this stage of my life! ...but it was so worth it!
(In fact my cousins have often told me I should have a tattoo saying 'Born to be mild'),
I definitely recommend releasing anger, but maybe not in a way that you get unexpected visitors!
(if you look at the photo I took before I cleaned up, you can see lots of orbs on the wall closest to the door. Nice to know I wasn't alone!)

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