My Grief Support Group

On October 1, the next offering of GriefShare will begin at St. Matthew Catholic Church. This marks my 15^th round of GriefShare at St. Matthew’s, on top of a long history of grief support volunteerism prior to starting at St. Matthew in 2018. GriefShare at St. Matthew’s is free, although we do ask for a donation to cover the cost of the workbook provided to each participant.

GriefShare is a 13-week program, but with the breaks for Thanksgiving and Christmas, this offering will wrap up in late January, which I find useful – we surround the difficult weeks of the holidays but are well into the program, and, we hope, some extra support and encouragement for grief during especially challenging periods.

The last session began in February and ran through May – a difficult one for me, as my father passed in January 2025, the day before the October 2024-January 2025 GriefShare program ended. I was more than a little raw and definitely not my best self for the participants this past spring. I apologized along the way but it doesn’t make up for the fact that I was not on my A-game for people who needed me. I hope to do better this time around.

Generally, the guidance for grief support groups is to wait three months. For some people, it takes longer. Some people jump in sooner simply because waiting until another group starts seems too long. Every person is unique and so is their grief, the person they are grieving, and their history of losses, and these factors impact how we each grieve. Some people come to grief counseling years after the loss, when the demands of the aftermath of loss have slowed down. There is no timeline on grief.

GriefShare programs have a standard format: some check-in and chat time; a 30-minute video that addresses a particular aspect of the grief experience; and discussion time on that topic. The aforementioned workbook is for personal use between sessions, with daily readings and activities focused on each week’s topic. Speaking in the group is entirely optional – no one should feel pressured to speak. If you come and are unable to speak, please do not feel badly; your presence is important and valuable even if you don’t say a word. Simply by being present to one another, we give witness and support to the fact that we do, in fact, grieve the people we love. It doesn’t go away just because the world seems to have moved on.

GriefShare is a Christian program – there are references to scripture throughout – but all are welcome. For our Jewish brothers and sisters, most of the Scripture is drawn from Hebrew Scriptures. Not surprising, Job and the Psalms are probably most referenced!

To find a GriefShare group near you, go to www.griefshare.org and search by your zip code.

Please share this information with anyone you know who might need it. Even better – offer to go a time or two with a grieving friend who needs the support and encouragement to take that first, scary step to go to a group. It will be a couple of hours of pure, loving gift to someone who needs it.

Loneliness can kill you…Part 1

According to new research from the journal Nature, Human Behavior published on January 3, 2025, loneliness and social isolation lead to molecular changes that, in my simple terms, seem to set the body up for serious problems – increased risk for dementia, depression, cardiovascular disease, diabetes, stroke, and early death. The researchers’ recommendations include routinely asking about loneliness and isolation, the way a health professional asks about sleep habits, alcohol use, and drug use.

If you are lonely on an ongoing basis, this is for you.

Loneliness can strike through no fault of one’s own.

Losing your spouse, for example, or a best friend, will almost inevitably lead to a long stretch of deep loneliness during the initial year or so of grief, and can continue beyond, as the bereaved person struggles to outsource some of that emotional, intellectual and spiritual intimacy to other relationships. In a healthy marriage, you share all sorts of confidences with a spouse that you simply might not share with anyone else – fears, dreams for the future, spiritual insights and struggles, and the warmth of shared memories that are no one else’s but the two of yours. Somehow, some of that must be extended to others, and depth built over time. It an absolutely monumental task to parcel out these small slices of the immeasurable depth of a healthy marriage.

Moving, alone, to a new city, for a new job, can be exciting, but the reality can include aching loneliness when everyone at the new job goes home to their lives and you go to your apartment and try to figure out how to build a life. Developing the big, and small, connections that make a place feel like home can be daunting, and for most people, it takes longer than they had ever anticipated.

Loneliness hits other people, too. Those who are living primarily second-hand, separated by screens and trying to substitute electronic connections for human ones, are often intensely lonely. Some people interact with others in person, but the conversations are shallow, guarded and therefore nearly empty of connection and meaning. This type of loneliness can be even more painful, because it seems inexplicable; how can a person live with family or a partner and yet feel deeply lonely?

So, what to do? Unfortunately, the impetus is mostly on the lonely people to do something differently.

Here are some suggestions I would give to a client in such a situation.

Go to church or synagogue. If you are grieving, try to go back to your own – but if that’s painful, go somewhere else, at least for now. If you are new to the area, just find a place that seems like a possibility. Then go to the hospitality time afterwards. Introduce yourself, and invite people to tell you about the faith community. Do not stand around with your cup of coffee and wait for people to notice you. Set a goal: perhaps that you will introduce yourself to three people, get their names, and ask a little about this community. See what happens. Try to focus on the other person; make the conversation a chance to get to know them and about their community – not about you. If it goes fairly well, go back the next week, greet those three people (and anyone else you met) by name if you can, re-introduce yourself without taking them forgetting your name personally, and see if you can meet a couple of other people. Within a month, you will have some acquaintance with a dozen or more people and have a solid idea if this community offers activities for education, worship and service for you to join.
Even if you usually like to do things solo join at least one activity – one exercise class, one art class, one talk at the local bookstore, etc. – on a regular basis. Get to be a regular. Greet other people.
Volunteer in your community. Do this with others. Doing good solo is beautiful, but if you’re not getting out of your head and focused on others in an interactive way, you are missing part of the point.
Be friendly but don’t try to bully people into being your friends. For example, if you are new to the area, don’t wear out your welcome with the neighbors who came over to introduce themselves on moving day.
Please do not use alcohol or other substances, or resort to hanging out having drinks as a way to cut loneliness.
Be patient and keep trying! Think of these steps as experiments. Track what happens over time; be willing to change to a different experiment if the first one isn’t working after a month or so.

As you can see, the remedies for loneliness all include getting out of your head and into the world. Focusing on others, in small ways (such as greeting them and showing interest) to big ones (such as volunteering), is a critical part of overcoming loneliness. This can be really hard, because loneliness tends to make people even more withdrawn, more insular – it is a self-perpetuating problem unless you boldly step out, even with small but courageous steps, into focus on others.

More about connecting with others in Loneliness can Kill You, Part 2, coming soon.

7 Things to do When Life Is Crazy

Sometimes, life just goes horribly sidewise. This week, like most weeks, I spent time with people who have lost their homes to natural disasters, lost their job, had loved ones die, and sometimes are grappling with multiple serious problems. The world seems crazy, you can feel like you’re going mad, and it is oh-so-easy to slide into attempts to numb the pain that are ultimately harmful.

It’s easy to advise people on what NOT to do – don’t drink alcohol. Don’t use drugs. Don’t eat a lot of junk food. Don’t let yourself scroll through social media and/or your newsfeed for extended periods of times. It’s easier, though, to “do” than to “not do.” Anyone who has tried to break a bad habit knows that; it’s easier to “eat an apple” than to “not smoke/drink/eat a bag of cheesy poofs the size of a pillow.”

So, here are seven things to do – and keep doing – when life is crazy

Say grace. Say grace when you get to sit at a table and say grace – together – when you eating a granola bar in the shade after another few hours of trying to make sense of the debris that used to be your home. Say grace when you are out on a hike, just about out of water, and have miles to go. G.K. Chesterton famously noted he said grace when he sat down to write, to draw, etc. A moment of gratitude shifts the focus from the mud to the mountaintop.
Put the social media/news scrolling down and, instead, watch something that will make you laugh, preferably either an episode of a sitcom or a funny movie. Why? These require sustained attention, will bring a focus on characters who have ups and downs, and have the potential to make you laugh. Laughter releases dopamine – that feel-good chemistry that helps you heal. Make it better and share that humor break with someone else. Sharing laughter with the person you love helps that sense of connection that seems strained, or even lost, when life has gone crazy.
Eat food that is good for you. Ongoing extreme stress causes havoc in your body, including your brain, and getting decent nutrition is essential to your well-being, now and later. I did the price comparison: a precooked chicken, a bag of salad, some fruit and a little something else healthy, for example, feeds two or four people far cheaper than most or all fast food. Your brain will thank you.
Listen to music that is soothing: piano or guitar, instrumental jazz, classical, baroque: as tempting as it may be to listen to “angry” music because you feel so angry about what’s become of your life, that will only reinforce your distress. Let peace soak into you, however slowly it may come.
Check in with other people every day. Reach out to someone to see how s/he is doing. It helps us get out of our own heads, our experiences, and feel less alone.
Get outside, preferably in the morning, for natural light exposure. You don’t need to bake in the sun; just get out there. Take a walk if you can. Early natural light helps the brain regulate the sleep/wake cycle, setting you up for a healthy rhythm of melatonin production over the course of the day.
Ask God to show you where He is at work in the events of your life, because when life goes crazy, the fog can make God’s loving presence hard to detect. Ask for the grace to notice the helping hands, the kind words, the moments of clarity.

I’m sorry if life has gone crazy. It is scary, and lonely, and disorienting when disaster strikes. If you find that you are sinking, reach out for help: call your local helpline (in Pinellas County, FL the number is 1-888-431-1998, for the new Care About Me program that helps match those in crisis with an appropriate mental health provider). Call a friend, a family member, or, if you are feeling unsafe and considering suicide or plan to harm yourself or others, go seek immediate help via 911 or go to an emergency service location. When life has gone crazy, it is natural to feel frightened, confused and even helpless, but remember that none of us were designed to “handle it all.” We are, in fact, designed so that our strengths are distributed so that each has something to offer but none has every gift and ability. Please reach out for help if you feel you are sinking.

Why am I still here?

“Why am I still here?”

I hear that a lot. Perhaps you do, too. The veteran who survived a firefight that took his friends; the person who woke up in the hospital to find they were the only survivor of a car crash that took their family; a survivor of a natural disaster that took many lives. Many adults, perhaps most, have had such an existential episode. I’ve been in car accidents that could have killed me; survived acts of violence that could just as easily have tipped over into lethality, lived through serious illness. None of those are particularly unusual, and only mentioned to underscore the point.

“What do I live for now? What ought I be doing?”

That’s a tough one, yet it is the question every believer is tasked with as the subtext of life every day. There is some chatter among the media that presuming that one’s survival is in God’s hands is some sort of unusual perspective. It is not my intention to speculate on any particular person’s interpretation of what that means. For those who find it perplexing, I hope to offer at least this Christian’s perspective. God never wants evil; it takes our free will for that to happen. Many of us wrestle with trying to figure out why God allows bad things to happen. Allowing something is not the same as wanting something, that’s for sure; every parent has to learn that lesson, fairly early on.

You may want your toddler to go to sleep. You may want that very, very, very eyes-burning-with-exhaustion much. But you have to allow the reality that the toddler will keep on singing songs, or whining, or coming out to complain. (If you do anything to “make” a child sleep, whatever adult is aware of it is required to report that to child protective services). C.S. Lewis does a much better job of explaining this particular point. God, of course, chooses to allow or not. I’m not going to understand why because I am not God. God creates everything and I can do not a thing, even catch a breath, unless God wills it.

Our job is to figure out what God wants from us in each emerging situation, whether the situation itself was His will or not. For believers, every breath is a gift; there is no guarantee of another. Pondering what we are to do with these circumstances and assuming God has a preference in terms of our choice of action is not a big stretch.

So, for a Christian, God did not want Corey Comperatore to die in gunfire, protecting his family. It was not God’s will for the gunman to shoot. Mr. Comperatore clearly discerned his purpose was to protect at all costs. He had, apparently, discerned this over and over until his reflex towards self-sacrifice looked “automatic.” That seems to be a sign that his formation into the nature of Jesus Christ, the nature of complete self-giving, was something he had truly embraced.

And now, everyone left behind must discern what God asks of them in this new, tragic circumstance. Over the course of years and months, his family will each have to discern how to restructure life and find a different path forward. Friends and neighbors will need to discern, ongoing, how to provide friendship and support when the months pass and the spotlight of media attention fades.

The question doesn’t necessitate a tragedy, such as an accident, tornado or an attempted assassination. It is a perennial question: every person mourning infertility, every widow, widower, and bereaved parent. Adolescents are supposed to wrestle with it; the elderly are, too. And all along the way, it is the question every thinking person ponders when transitioning to a new stage of life. We ask it at those times, too, that are both joyful and sad; a child grows up and successfully leaves the nest: mission accomplished; but what is my purpose now? Retirement comes; well, then what? What is your purpose now, beyond a vague sense of perpetual recess?

Being Christian means striving to be conformed to the nature of Jesus Christ. That means seeking not just to avoid being “bad” but attempting to do God’s will in every situation. Is it “bad” to spend an entire lazy weekend afternoon with a pot of tea, a good book and a handful of chocolate? Especially on the Sabbath? No, lemon ginger tea and Lady Gregory’s book of Irish folklore, edited by W.B. Yeats, don’t make the list of “do-nots,” but the entire afternoon? When a friend needs a caring ear or a letter? When a nagging thought keeps intruding with that starts with, “I really need to reach out to…” maybe the “not a bad thing” needs to step aside and yield to the “better thing,” a “because” for the moment.

And, when you’re wrestling with the big questions of life, the little “becauses” become a path through the dark places.

For Those Mourning a suicide

If you have lost someone to suicide, my sincere condolences: peace be upon you in these incredibly difficult times.

I have been involved in grief counseling for a long time. I began volunteering as a grief support group facilitator about 20 years ago. Grief is always painful – the Irish language word clumsily translated into English as “Troubles” actually means tearing apart. Losing someone to suicide is definitely a tearing apart, and one that carries particular burdens.

They are even more likely than other mourners to look backwards and try to reinterpret events to make sense of what happened. We humans like for things to “make sense,” even things that can’t be understood. Looking back can lead to a lot of unnecessary suffering – self-blame, recrimination, guilt. Our culture pretends we can control just about everything, but we cannot. Through the lens of grief looking backwards, even a passing sad day years before can seem like a sign that was “missed,” and the perfectly normal little disagreement turns into the possible cause. Every memory is scoured for warning signs. The lists of warning sides of suicidality are helpful, but not all people have them. In reality, about 70% of suicides are impulsive acts – there are no real warning signs or markers, beyond the events of life that many people experience without becoming suicidal: relationship struggles, financial struggles, legal struggles, job loss. Some people will show some of the warning signs but are not be suicidal at all, such as someone who is enthusiastically minimizing their possessions in order to downsize. Please try to refocus on something else, even a small physical task, when you find yourself looking back to try to see what you “should have” seen: you are at risk of burdening yourself with unnecessary guilt.
Those whose loved one committed suicide are likely to hear even more of the hurtful things people can say to those grieving. Granted, most people’s hurtful remarks to mourners are well-intentioned, and yet incredibly unhelpful, such as the dreadful, “You’re still young…you’ll have other children,” or, “You should be glad they’re not suffering any longer.” There are some people, though, who say truly, intentionally horrible things about those who commit or attempt suicide, and this leads mourners to lie about the cause of death and/or isolate from others. Avoid these people; seek the company of those who are compassionate.
Those who have lost someone to suicide are especially likely to avoid going to grief support groups, or will only go to those about suicide. I encourage going to a general grief support group, too; it can be a place to learn a lot of skills and strategies that are helpful to all mourners, and can be that first, safe place to talk about what really happened and get support as you manage the tangle of terrible emotions. You will find strategies and support for how to take one step at a time into a world that seems to no longer make sense. Please do not isolate out of pain, unnecessary shame or unnecessary guilt.
See your primary care doctor, avoid any mind-altering substances, and try your best to follow medical guidance – even though you will often not feel like eating right or exercising.
Seek individual or family counseling to help with the grief process as needed.

And, of course, as this is not psychological guidance or advice – just information and encouragement – reach out for help if you are struggling with suicidal thoughts or fear for someone else. Besides your health care provider, the local emergency room, or 911, you might call the National Suicide Hotline at 988 or the 1-800-273-TALK (8255) National Mental Health Hotline.

If you are reading this and thinking of someone you know who has lost someone to suicide, please reach out with compassion. Be present; keep reaching out. Invite for simple things; offer specific help (with chores, for companionship, to go with them to a grief support group because going is, at first, absolutely terrifying). Please do not ask a lot of questions about the death; if the person is open, instead ask about the person: the happy memories of the past. Ask if you can help and don’t be surprised if you hear, “I’m fine,” or, “You can’t bring them back,” or, “I don’t need anything.” In that case, come back another time with specific offers (“Can I come by sometime and help with the lawn?” “Are you up for a cup of coffee at the park?” etc.). Be gentle with people who have been torn apart.

Thanks for reading.

As a friend fades away

Clancy has dementia.

Clancy is a 15-year-old cat, who has been my near-constant companion since he was about 8 weeks old and nearly dead. Our daughter found him while at work; he was lying under a dumpster. Since my beloved cat Chili had died only two months before, she brought this mostly-dead kitten home for me. The rescue process included a transfusion, some medication for a life-threatening flea infestation, a few weeks of hand-feeding and two weeks of my sleeping on the floor so the half-dead kitty could sleep on my chest, feeling the heartbeat and warmth of fellow mammal while he regained some strength. Clancy thrived and enjoyed robust good health.

Clancy met me at the door, tail wagging (yes, he IS a cat) every day. He followed me from room to room; he stood up on his hind legs and patted my hip when I was cooking, looking for a handout. He “helped” me read, do crosswords and yoga. He had a share of every serving of chicken, turkey and fish that I ate for dinner.

Now he has dementia. He lives in a cat-apartment in one room of the house, customized for his comfort with arthritis-friendly ramps to window perches, places to hide, soft places to sleep, quiet music and a chair, where I sit with him every day. He still likes to stretch out on the Sunday crossword puzzle, and he obligingly “helps” with my yoga a few mornings a week.

Sometimes he does not seem to know who I am; he cowers and hides. Other times he is suddenly aggressive. Sometimes he is his old, affectionate, playful self…and then an hour later, I return to find that he has dragged every loose piece of bedding into the litter box.

We have decided that as long as he seems to have a decent quality of life, we will keep on accommodating Clancy. However, we have made the difficult decision to forego any major medical interventions beyond his usual annual checkups and vaccinations. No heroics. How do you know if an animal companion has a good quality of life? When we watch a movie or sit reading and he curls up in my lap, as he has for all these years, it seems so. The next morning, when he hides when I come in with his Chunky Turkey in Gravy and ice water, it is less clear.

If Clancy and I are very, very fortunate, he will slip away from this world in his sleep one night, curled up in the kitty bed he has had for many years, without too much fear or pain.

Dr. Lori Puterbaugh, LMHC, LMFT, NCC

Posts are for information and entertainment purposes only and should not be construed to be therapeutic advice. If you are in need of mental health assistance, please contact a licensed professional in your area.

Well…something’s crazy (but it’s probably not us)

Yesterday I attended the Florida Adlerian Society’s annual conference; it runs for three days but I was only able to commit to one. It was a great day: wonderful speakers, challenging information, and, of course, the warm and friendly Adlerians in attendance.

Adler is one of the great founders of psychotherapy, but often is relegated to a corner with a few remarks about birth order and maybe credit for starting the child guidance movement. He’s much more than that, and if you’re curious, visit www.alfredadler.org.

An interesting point made during yesterday’s talks was the evolution of bereavement in psychiatry over the past few decades. The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders is the American Psychiatric Association’s published list of descriptions of various patterns of symptoms. The intention, back in the early 1980s and DSM-III, was to provide a structure for shared dialogue and research for the identified hypothesized mental disorders. No one was pretending these were all clearly identifiable and diagnosable, discrete brain diseases. In the DSM-III days, bereavement, as a category, covered up to a two year long period. If a grieving person was still sad more often than not, still struggling with aspects of grief and getting back to a (new) normal life, mental health professionals figured, depending on the relationship, two years was a reasonable time frame. Of course, some losses never heal – but people somehow figure out how to go on, just the same. The point is, no sensible person thought it was pathological to still have some regular bouts of tearfulness a year or more after your most beloved person died.

In 1994, the next edition of the DSM came along, DSM-IV. It gave people two months – not two years – to get over it and move on. If not – if the person was still crying, or numb, or having appetite and/or sleep disturbances, or otherwise met the minimum criteria for depression…well, that meant that bereavement was over and the person was now diagnosable with a major mental disorder – depression – which was now sometimes described as a permanent brain disease.

In 2013, the DSM-5 was published (note that the change from Roman numerals to integers was done by the APA – it’s not a typo on my part). The DSM-5 got rid of the bereavement issue entirely: now you get two weeks of being sad more days than not, plus the other possible symptoms, and you’re mentally ill with depression (according to the APA). There is no exception for bereavement, although it ought to be noted on the chart. One rationale provided, about which I’ve written in the past, is that this way people can get their health insurer to cover their grief counseling. Whether this makes it worthwhile to pathologize normal grief, I leave each reader to consider.

Are you mentally ill if you have trouble eating or sleeping, or burst into tears almost daily, two weeks after someone you dearly love passes away? I don’t know anyone who thinks so, but the manual that has become the healthcare provider’s and insurer’s standard frames it so.

Dr. Lori Puterbaugh

drloriputerbaugh

Psychotherapist, Author, Teacher

Tag Archives: grief