PhD in Being Me

Tag: grief

  • Getting older

    Photo of Bradlee's left hand
    My 46 year old hand

    I am different lately.  Turning 46 has been a big one for me.  I am no longer a young person, I am closer to 50 than to 40, and I can  tell that I view life differently than the youth I am around.  My skin looks more wrinkly, my face looks older, and my body seems a bit more fragile.

    I don’t think all is lost, but there is some grief for me during this time.  I don’t have a young child anymore, and I won’t be walking down the street holding a tiny hand any longer (not that I have in years).  I see young people who run down the street, so full of life and energy and I mourn the loss of my own youth and energy, although chronic fatigue syndrome plays a big role in that. 

    I look at my precious husband and hope we have so many more years of hand holding, laughing and enjoying each other’s company.  And I wonder how long we will live in our cute little house in the country.  I hope that our son will have his parents around for many, many more years to come.  I look forward to cheering for him as he navigates and explores his life and how best to live it.

    I am not lost in these feelings of grief and hope, rather they seem to flow in and out of my mind as I live my life.  I am not trying to get away from the thoughts because grief and I have become friends over the years, and I know that it is a part of being a human, just as much as joy and love.

    I have had such an amazing life up to now, despite all the hardships and things I could have done without, and the grief I feel honours this.  I couldn’t have asked for a better husband and son, or such a quiet life in the country.  I am so grateful for the innocence that I have within me, the grace and power too, and my big, huge belly laughs.  None of that is over, but so much else feels like it is after turning 46.  My internal suffering is easing slightly as I learn more what I need, and that is such a relief, but it may also be contributing to these feelings of grief.  Who might I be without all this pain, anxiety, loneliness, exhaustion and sadness that I have felt for so long?  I wonder 🌸🌟.

    Well, to the me who came before, the one who is healing, the one who has never needed healing, and the me who is living today and every future day, I say, well done.  You have made it.  No matter what the future holds, I am with you.  Every tear, every fear, every laugh, every wrinkle and every moment has brought me here, and I wouldn’t be me without it all.  Grief and joy, all together, for this opportunity to live this exact life, even though I have tried to resist it and get away from it.  I am here, learning to allow, to feel, to open my heart to it all.

    Big hugs, xoxo ❤️, Bradlee

    Red hearts of different sizes on a black background

    ©️ Bradlee Zrudlo 2026.  All Rights Reserved.

  • Witnessing myself

    Early morning on a misty road
    A misty morning

    Sometimes I feel lonely.

    Sometimes I feel like I wish I could be seen more deeply and completely.

    Sometimes I feel so tired it’s hard to do much.

    Sometimes I feel like my being is surrounded by mist and I need the sun to rise more to transform it.

    Today feels joyous and celebratory, but heavy with a deep mist that has permeated my being.  It’s amazing how I can feel all of that at once.  Isn’t being a human amazing, miraculous, hard and wild?

    I have decided to start writing more.  When I write, I witness myself, and the heavy mists lessen, like I am my own sunshine, rising up within me, bringing light, new possibilities and strength to myself, just like our sun does for us and our planet.

    As I write this, I can already feel the lightness spreading, reminding me of how okay I am, even when my heart needs extra hugs, and especially when my hurts arise and need me to give myself more love, compassion and support.

    And so, I smile, I write, and I unite within me with every word I type.

    A campfire with low flames
    A slow burn campfire

    Last week, I had a campfire with and for myself.  It started out really blazing, and I decided to take a photo when it was at its slow burn point.  I was really struck by the white logs and the small flames dancing between the logs.  It served as a metaphor for my healing journey.  Every day and year, I grow and heal, not in a bonfire way, but in a slow burn way that allows me to feel, process, integrate and heal.

    Do I ever wish I could just hurry it up and be better faster?  YES!  Definitely. But, I know these wounds have been here for a long time, including from generations past, and I am learning to breathe, to be, to honour my wounded parts, and to hold space for them to heal and integrate fully into my beingness.

    And so I breathe, smile, write and relax.  May this post make you feel seen, witnessed and honoured in all the ways that you need.

    I will sign off wishing you all my best, lots of care, and many opportunities to know and feel how special you are.

    Big hugs,

    Bradlee, and Maggie and Archie, respectively, as seen below

    Me and Maggie, my dog, who has golden red fur with a white face
    Maggie and me
    Me and my dog, Archie, who has golden red fur with a white nose
    Archie and me

  • Rejoicing and Grieving

    Forest with pine trees and blue skies and clouds in between the trees
    A quiet spot in the forest where I live

    Rejoicing and grieving.

    Two seemingly opposing feelings, and yet, I have felt them both most of the week.

    I wonder if that is how a birch tree feels? It is always growing, yet shedding its bark.

    A close up image of the bark on a birch tree peeling off.
    A beautiful golden birch from the back of our quiet, majestic forest

    I learn a lot from nature. It is always teaching me how to relate to myself more kindly and how to interpret and understand my emotions and experiences.

    This week, I witnessed a rare total solar eclipse and it was breathtaking.  I felt all tingly and warm in my body and I felt my soul being held, nurtured and inspired during the 2 minutes of totality.  And yet, afterwards, especially the next day, I felt more delicate, disappointed and angry.  While those emotions were arising, I was also rejoicing in the total beauty and awesomeness that I felt from the totality.  It was like I was being opened up to release some hurt while also celebrating the gorgeousness of what I witnessed. 

    This theme continued throughout the week.  For example, I was grieving the loss of innocence I experienced as a result of traumatic events in my life, and yet, somehow, I was also celebrating my awareness of the impacts of those tough times, which lessened my inner load and helped me feel more free and empowered.

    Also, yesterday I had the honour of volunteering at and attending a local youth musical theatre production of The Little Mermaid that my teen and 28 other super talented youth performed.  I was filled with joy and awe as I listened as a young actress sang as Ariel.  Her voice was so heavenly, I literally felt like I was being blessed and filled with love as she sang.  It was truly incredible.  I was rejoicing in the abundance of talent, dedication, and overall fabulousness of everyone involved. 

    This morning, I am still revelling and rejoicing but also mourning.  I remember when I was younger and I played so many sports and participated in so many activities.  Having chronic fatigue syndrome gives me many opportunities to rejoice in the healthy and wise choices I make to take care of myself.  Conversely, I also mourn the loss of energy I used to have.  I volunteered yesterday and it was so much fun, but it’s not something I can do often because of my limited energy reserves.  Mourning what I miss out on feels healthy, despite it being sad that I can’t, especially with my big, caring heart, do or help as much as I’d like.

    I learned this week that rejoicing and mourning are not mutually exclusive. What a beautiful gift this week has given me.  I can celebrate the majesty of nature and the tremendous, heavenly gifts of the youth in my community, all while grieving my past and present, and celebrating all the healthy decisions I make to care for myself.

    May you be blessed with so much gentleness as you experience all the richness and depth that life has to offer. 

    Big hugs, Bradlee

    A collection of photos from one of my walks in the forest this week.  The forest looks different with each passing day of spring, just as I keep growing, shedding the old, and blossoming anew.

    © Bradlee Zrudlo 2022-2024. All Rights Reserved

  • Melting

    A tray of ice cubes with flames on top.

    This morning when I woke up, I thought of melting.

    I had an image in my mind of me being in an ice block and how I have been thawing out and melting away those layers of hardness and rigidity that I was aware of but couldn’t just push or wish away.  It appears I needed to deeply feel my pain and the resulting rigidity, and I needed time to process, rest and heal.

    Sometimes in the spring, as everything thaws, I feel very exposed and vulnerable.  This makes sense, as I have been going through a lot of emotional healing and turmoil.  So when I woke up and saw that imagery in my mind of melting ice, I felt great.  It made me feel like I have survived a very delicate and difficult time in my life and that I am emerging from a frozen and in process-type of state.

    As with all feelings, I tend to think it’s going to last forever.  Like when I was so sick a few weeks ago, I was sure I was never going to get better.  And today, I feel reborn and renewed, and I want this feeling to last forever.  I honour that desire, as who wouldn’t want to feel great more often than not?! 

    I believe that’s where I am learning to cultivate more compassion for myself.  Compassion for the one who wants constancy, and good health.  For the one who loves feeling empowered over broken down yet again.  For the one who wants to pre-select aspects of my human experience, as opposed to being open to experiencing it all, no matter if it’s what I would choose or not.

    Wherever you are in your human experience, I honour you, no matter if you’re feeling broken down or uplifted.  I have found new courage and trust in life and in myself this morning, after many years of feeling super delicate, broken and deeply sad.  Maybe the glory of what I am feeling today is in direct proportion to the depth of the pain and difficulty I have experienced?  I don’t really know, but I hope my sharing helps you feel seen, witnessed and cared for, no matter what your inner and outer circumstances of life are.

    With love, Bradlee ♥️

    © Bradlee Zrudlo 2024. All Rights Reserved.

  • Making peace with suffering

    Our day old baby chick, Lillium, who was sick. I made this video to share with the vet in case we could get her help. She died the next morning.

    A beautiful, tiny, one-day old baby chick named Lillium taught so much about suffering in her time with us. She arrived at 9:15 am on May 31, 2023, and she passed away by 6:30am the next day.

    We got 7 one-day old baby chicks, and they are all so precious and cute. Baby chicks are so fast and curious, but not Lillium. I noticed she had a dark lump on her underside and that she wasn’t running around with the other chicks. I immediately felt like something wasn’t right.

    We tried bathing her underside in case her lump was hardened droppings, but it wasn’t. It was a growth, and it seemed to be making her quite sick. I usually worry about babies because they need so much love and support, but my worry for Lillium was really high. I couldn’t handle the idea of such a little, tiny chick suffering.

    I prayed for her, sang to her, and checked on her constantly. I researched what her lump could be and made the video at the top of this post to share with the vet to learn if anything could help her. I cried a few times and really witnessed myself feeling very shaken and sad by her very obvious suffering.

    Baby Lillium taught me a lot. She taught me that I don’t like to see anyone suffering and that it really stresses me out. She helped me to identify healthy versus unhealthy ways of dealing with her suffering. I even made some connections to how stressed I have been when my immediate family was hurting in any number of ways. She helped me shed light on what was out of my control and helped me take small steps to finding peace when witnessing suffering.

    I was still not a rockstar at being with her while she suffered, but I was absorbing the lessons she was teaching me. I am hopeful that I will be able to hold them in my heart when I witness suffering in myself or in others in the future. Thank you sweet Lillium for showing me the depths of my caring and compassion ❤️. Thank you for gracing my life with your sweet presence for a bit less than a day. Thank you for helping me learn to make peace with suffering.

    Baby chicks in a wooden box with straw on the ground.
    Some of the baby chicks we got on May 31, 2023

    © Bradlee Zrudlo 2023. All Rights Reserved

  • Some things take time – my first poetry book and a new poem

    Book cover image. Title of book, "From My Heart to Yours, poems to support you in times of grief, loss and transition." Includes image of a beautiful field with the sky and clouds.

    I have been writing poetry for several years now. Writing has helped and guided me through periods of massive personal growth. It has also helped me learn to connect with myself and learn to become an expert in taking care of myself.

    I kept my writing in a drawer for quite awhile. When I slowly and shyly started sharing it with others, I started understanding how powerful my words were. And how they contained so much healing and acceptance.

    I am so grateful to be able to transform my life experiences into poetry; lately I have been feeling the depth of my poetry’s alchemy. I feel its power to help heal, guide and validate others and I am humbled and grateful. And so, I am sharing the exciting news that I have published my first book of poems about grief, loss and transition. I am donating the proceeds to the Beth Donovan Hospice to thank them for all they did for me after my mom passed unexpectedly in February 2019. It is my hope that it brings peace, comfort and healing to all those who need it 💕. I invite you to learn more here:

    Poetry Book

    I offer this new poem in honor of you and all the pain, heartache, grief and loss it has included. It is dedicated to my beautiful friend Carla ❤️. She has inspired me to know that no matter how agonizingly slow my personal growth and ability to self-love have seemed, it is okay. Some things take time.

    Some things take time

    “We don’t judge a fetus in utero for how long it takes until it is ready to be born.
    We don’t rush a flower to hurry up and bloom while the petals are still forming.
    We don’t expect a toddler to write a PhD thesis or to be able to drive a car.

    So why do we rush ourselves through our healing?
    Why do we judge ourselves for being exactly where we are at?

    Some things take time. 
    The exact amount of time until they are ready, not because they are slow, doing anything wrong or broken.
    But just because that’s the amount of time they need.

    If you are frustrated, angry or overwhelmed by the length, depth and breadth of your healing journey, I am with you.
    I have felt like this for the last 10 years.
    What I woke up this morning with is this,
    ‘Some things take time.’
    I feel like there is so much truth in that.

    Maybe if we can be with ourselves and sit in our discomfort and pain, we wouldn’t judge ourselves for being exactly where we are at.
    Maybe if our culture didn’t value doing over being, we would all expect a long period of healing in our lives and we would know that some things take time.
    Whatever the reasons, what matters is this:
    You are valid no matter what is going on in your life.
    You matter even if you have been in a tough spot for what feels like 100 years too long.
    You are a precious treasure even if you feel as worthless as the gum under a school desk or as gross as poop stuck to a shoe.
    You are special even if you have been crying, yelling, grieving, hating or fearing for longer than you ever wanted to.
    With each breath you take today and every day, may all cycles of abuse within your life and those around you be completely healed and resolved.
    With every judgement, may you love yourself more than ever before.
    With every moment you choose to be instead of do, may our societal expectations of value from doing be completely healed and transformed.

    Some things take time.
    You are worthy of all the time you need.
    Breathe in and know, you matter.
    Take your time dear one, take your time.”

    Thanks for reading. I love and honor you exactly as you are. Some things take time, even publishing poetry books, writing blogs, or having the strength to become an expert in yourself. I super get it and I am with you!

    © Bradlee Zrudlo 2022. All Rights Reserved