Choose your thoughts

It’s easier said than done, but you can master it with practice. You really can choose your thoughts – try it! Every time, a thought that’s not happy comes to your mind, consciously push it away and replace it with a happy thought. Call in the Happy Police. Those happy little thoughts that keep you in the zone of bliss – and let them do their job.

Choosing your thoughts is a learnt skill. It’s not inherent or innate. You’re not born with it, you have to learn it. And learning it involves hard work and perseverance just like learning anything else does.

It’s been a hard few years for me personally and learning to cope with the grief these years have pummeled me with, has been difficult. Grief does not go away, you learn to deal with your losses – you grieve forever. When a loved one dies, they take a part of you with them, so how can things ever be the same again? They never are.

After I lost my dad, it was like the central pillar of our lives had caved in. It was like a massive kick in the gut that I couldn’t quite recover from. We were all adults and living our own lives, but just knowing that dad was at the end of a phone call, was comforting. I could count on him for a little laugh to lighten my day, a word of wisdom to make me wiser, or even a little argument which was more of the norm when we were all under one roof. His roof, as he’d keep reminding us!

But now that familiar voice was gone. In the weeks and months after dad died, I’d find myself absentmindedly calling his number and listening to the recorded voice at the end of line say ‘the person you are trying to contact is not reachable.’ This would plunge me deeper into crippling grief. Or I’d sit around thinking of the things I could have done to make things better. Why did I not go home more often? What if I was living closer to him? Would he have been so sick if we were all around him? I’d think and think and make myself sick from all the regrets.

Then mum died. Another pillar gone. I was crumbling. My feet suddenly felt heavier, and my weight too heavy to carry around. Life was not the same anymore. My parents died too soon. Both in their early sixties. And I felt I was not around for them. I got married and left home to live in expat land, and I never had the opportunity to go home more than once a year. Then I had my babies and that became once in two years. That’s not something I’m ever going to get over. If only I could live those years again. I’d make it a priority to go home as often as I could possibly manage it. It was not that difficult. But life took over and mum and dad grew old and sick and I was not present for them. That’s about the hardest thought to have to live with.

Then came another blow. When I least expected it. My brother died. All this within eight short years. I was hardly over one loss when I had to deal with another. My mind was a mess. My body was beginning to suffer too. I felt old and tired. I didn’t look the same. And I certainly didn’t feel the same. My heart raced each time the phone rang – I expected more bad news. I jumped when I heard a noise, what had happened now? I grew anxious and had anxiety attacks for no reason at all. I could not go on like this. I began relishing the thought of death. Perhaps it’s not such a bad thing after all. It’s the end of suffering. The cemetery,  a place I’d rarely go because I found it so depressing, suddenly became a friendly place because it held my precious people now.

And all this time my family – my husband and kids stood by, relegated to the background. I found it hard to talk to them about my feelings and they struggled with my grief. I’m sure it was hard on them to see me like that, but they were not equipped to deal with it. So we never talked about it. My husband, who had lost his father too during these years, never spoke about his feelings about the loss and left me to deal with mine. Some people are just not equipped to handle things like this. Not talking about it is never the best strategy, but that’s what we did. It never helped. So I spent night after night just crying into my pillow or locking myself in the bathroom and weeping. Then putting on a brave face for the benefit of everyone. Inside, I was broken.

Then, something happened that changed my thinking. I received a random newsletter about grief and the importance of moving on. I had not subscribed to this newsletter – so I like to think it was a letter from heaven. Mum and dad were trying to tell me something. And they ingeniously arranged for this email to pop into my mailbox. They wanted me to get on with my life. That thought was so comforting. To think that they were around, watching over me. All at once, I felt better.

Mum, dad, you have mail too. I miss you.