Sheila Flaherty
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The Weight of Sorrow

April 26, 2021 By Sheila Flaherty in Blog Posts, Family Secrets 2 Comments

sheila_and_joe


Oh, brother, brother, brother

I know you’ve been hangin’ on a long time

But I love you like no other

Oh, brother of mine

~ Carole King


My baby brother, Joe, died early Friday morning, March 26th. It wasn’t totally unexpected—he’d been in hospice since sometime last July and very ill for four years. Still, the phone call was something I’d feared and dreaded.

The call came mid-morning that Friday. I didn’t recognize the number, so I didn’t pick up, but as soon as I listened to the message, I knew. It was my niece Ashley’s husband, Josh, asking me to call him back. I steeled myself for the worse possible news as I called. And I got it.

I cried all day Friday as I reached out to my friends and family with the news—texting to ask if they could talk. Talking when they could. Telling them what had happened if they weren’t available to talk. My cousin Larry immediately responded by FaceTime and our conversation was extremely comforting. And, I had the best of care from my partner, Jeff, who knows all too well the devastating pain of losing someone you love.

The day passed in a haze of grief. I searched through pictures to find those I felt best showed the love in our relationship throughout our lives. There are many more, but I chose the best, and my sweet Jeff put them together in a collage for me to post.

I went to bed early and slept hard throughout the night. In the morning I couldn’t move without pain. I felt like I’d been beaten. My legs were heavy and my arms hurt as though I’d struggled against something all night. It was then I truly understood the weight of sorrow. The heaviness of grief. The mind/body connection was indisputable.

Every day since Joe’s death, I still wake up feeling physically and emotionally battered. A month later, and I still can’t believe he’s gone. He gave the best hugs, ever, and I mourn the fact that I’ll never feel one again. I’ve suffered so many losses—my father, mother, beloved grandma, older half-brother, uncle, friends, and patients—but I’ve never before experienced such physical pain at the loss. At least not that I remember.

My good friend, Cathy, who has also lost a sibling, understood the crushing pain I’m feeling. Most of my other losses were expected losses. In the natural order of things, we are supposed to outlive our older family members. Joe was my baby brother, and, as a sibling, he was the witness to much of my life. The loss of that witness feels like being torn in two.

I was only five-and-a-half when Joe was born, so I have few memories of my life before him. I liked to tell Joe I’ve loved him all his life, but I’ve also loved him most of mine. When he was born I still remember my daddy sitting me down to gently tell me I didn’t get the baby sister I’d wanted, that I had a brother. My immediate response was that I’d really wanted a brother.

How I adored that baby! We were living in Army housing on the base at Fort Bragg, North Carolina, and I had a few friends I brought home to show him off to. I loved holding him and feeding him. Helping Mama take care of him.

As Joe grew older, he adored me, as well. Whenever I left the house, he wanted to go with me. When we lived in El Paso, Texas, I was ten and Joe was four. I had a friend named Eloise who lived nearby, and whenever I left to go play with her, Joe followed me down the street. When I promised I’d bring him something when I came home, he’d reluctantly turn around. I always kept my promise. Most times I only brought him an interesting rock or stick I found along the way, but he was always thrilled with whatever I gave him.

All the while we were young, Daddy was in the Army and we moved so many times. Our family didn’t really settle down in Mesquite, Texas (a suburb of Dallas) until the summer I turned fourteen and was entering 9th grade. I was always the shy, new girl, making only a few real friends along the way—and then always having to say “goodbye.” Joe and I were the constants in each other’s lives throughout those years. I remember many, many hours spent in the backseat of a Studebaker station wagon as we moved from state to state, or went on family vacations.

Other family members were always across the country. We had cousins we rarely ever saw. Cousins, like Larry, who grew up in California and who I’ve only gotten to know well in recent years. So, it was just me and Joe. Mama always worked 8 to 5 as a bookkeeper wherever we lived, so, beginning the middle of 6th grade, it became my responsibility to watch Joe after school.

Like any siblings, Joe and I fought and we got into trouble, but we were always “thick as thieves.” I remember one time we were tossing a small watermelon back and forth to each other in the living room. Mama told us to stop several times, but we didn’t—until we dropped the melon and it shattered on the carpet. After Mama sent us to our separate rooms, we sat in our respective doorways and rolled a ball back and forth to each other. Joe and I depended on each other to be there, and assumed we always would.

It was only after we moved to Mesquite that we each, finally, had our own friends. Although our age differences impacted us more, we were still close. But it was in Texas where our lives began to go in very different directions.

I had a terrible time adjusting to life and school in Mesquite, whereas Joe thrived when finally planted. My choppy school history left me without a solid educational foundation, so I was behind in most subjects and not a good student. Joe, entering 3rd grade, excelled. I was shy and awkward, Joe was outgoing and immediately had a friend group, some of whom he kept all his life. I was too tall and skinny, had thin unruly hair and acne, and wore braces. Joe was handsome, with thick, straight, dark hair, an unblemished complexion, and naturally straight, white teeth. I’d not yet discovered my talent for art and writing, whereas Joe quickly became proficient at playing the drums and even had his own band called “The Clichés” for a couple years. Still, despite our differences, we spent as much time together as possible. I was proud of him.

When I left home after graduating high school, Joe was devastated. He visited me and I was back in the Dallas area after a few years, so we remained close. By the time he was in high school, I was the one he called whenever he had a problem. Joe was a rebellious teen and had a rough adolescence, at home, school, and in his relationships. I was his confidant through some very turbulent times.

Although we grew up in the same family and our parents stayed together through their own difficult times, it was in adulthood when our differences began to redefine our relationship. Joe was settled and grounded and happily at home in Texas. I, despite the pain I’d experienced being yanked around most my life (attending twenty-three schools by the time I graduated from high school), had what I called “a gypsy soul.” I was restless, hated Texas, and took every opportunity that came along to leave, although I always returned. When I came to Chicago for graduate school in 1982, I left Texas for good. Joe never left.

Over the past thirty-nine years, Joe and I visited each other, kept in touch by phone, and email, and text. I loved it when we were able to talk on the phone. Joe had a wicked sense of humor and could always make me laugh. He could also make me cry. Time and distance and misunderstandings and, finally, politics (and conspiracy theories) gradually eroded our relationship—almost to the breaking point.

Whenever Joe pulled back and disappeared from my life, I fought back. When he wouldn’t answer his phone, I left him long messages, pleading with him to please call me back. Using the power of text messaging, I sent him “I love you notes” and pictures and videos. When, after going into hospice last July 7th, Joe sent me a curt “Goodbye” text from what was to be his deathbed, I refused to accept it. I continued bombarding him with love texts until, finally, on December 28, he reached back. Our phone call was full of catching up and emotion and laughter and tears. The next morning he sent me a text telling me how much better he felt and saying “I love you Doc and please don’t ever forget that I do even when I am stupid.” I’ve printed it out and will keep it always.

The last time I talked to Joe was on his birthday, February 25. I called and he answered and we talked like nothing had ever come between us. I’ve forgiven him for all the ways he hurt me over the years, and I believe he forgave me, too. I am glad Joe is finally out of pain and at peace, and I will search for a way to celebrate his life that helps give me closure. As I write this I recognize there’s a certain poetry in our relationship here on earth having both begun and ended on his birthday. But I’ll continue to love him for the rest of my life and, depending on what happens after, maybe forever.

What this Shrink is Learning: How to Survive a Pandemic (#6) Managing Fear

March 31, 2020 By Sheila Flaherty in Blog Posts, Life as a Shrink, Revelations as a Writer, What this Shrink is Learning 4 Comments

Fear.

“In the silence you don’t know, you must go on,

I can’t go on, I’ll go on.”

~Samuel Beckett

Anyone who’s not scared right now is either an innocent child, an adult in denial, or someone unclear on the concept of a pandemic. As shrinks say, “Fear is appropriate affect for what we’re going through.” Among so many other things, we’re afraid of the real and present danger of being infected with the virus. We’re afraid for ourselves, our families, our friends. We’re afraid of the unknown. And much is unknown.

Most of us have become hyper-vigilant. To a cough. To fatigue. To breathlessness on the stairs. To a hot flash in the night. Many people I know were sick in January or February with terrible, lingering, flu symptoms, even though they’d had their flu shots. Now they’re wondering if they had COVID-19. If so, are they immune? If so, did they infect another? If so, are their lungs now compromised? Too many questions and too few answers put us all on edge. The problem is, there are no clear, concrete answers. We’re in uncharted territory and uncertainty brings more fear.

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What this Shrink is Learning: How to Survive a Pandemic (#5) Protecting Our Sleep is Critical

March 27, 2020 By Sheila Flaherty in Blog Posts, What this Shrink is Learning 2 Comments

Sleep

“Dreaming permits each and every one of us

to be quietly and safely insane every night of our lives.”

~William C. Dement

If you ask people how they’re doing these days, the most common answer is, “I’m tired.” Reality has set in—this quarantine isn’t temporary. We’re realizing it will likely be months before we’re in the clear. Anxiety levels are up and lack of sleep is becoming a major issue for most of us. Depression is setting in for many. Both anxiety and depression can cause major interruptions in sleep—trouble going to sleep, staying asleep, or both. A common problem is our minds racing and preventing us from going to sleep in the first place, or racing when we wake in the night so we can’t go back to sleep. Also, in times of major stress, there’s an increase in anxiety dreams.

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What this Shrink is Learning: How to Survive a Pandemic (#4) Strive for Balance

March 24, 2020 By Sheila Flaherty in Blog Posts, What this Shrink is Learning 6 Comments

“Be aware of wonder. Live a balanced life – learn some and think some and draw and paint and sing and dance and play and work every day some.”

~ Robert Fulgham

Unlike yesterday, when I had to jump out of bed to make the healthy choice of joining an online Zumba class, today, I chose to linger. I don’t have Zumba until 1:00 pm today, and my workday starts at 2:00 pm (after a quick change). Thank goodness for Skype!

I had a better night’s sleep, last night, and woke up before my alarm. Sun streamed through the opening in my drapes and, even though it’s still cold, the brightness felt hopeful. I had the luxury of lying still for awhile and just listening, and I noticed the quiet. Then I heard a flock of geese honking as they flew overhead. Early birds enthusiastically chirping right outside my window. An occasional dog barking. There were no car sounds, slamming of doors, people voices. My home faces the el and Metra embankment, and the only sounds of business as usual were the trains periodically passing. It was lovely.

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What this Shrink is Learning: How to Survive a Pandemic (#3) The Importance of Self-Compassion

March 23, 2020 By Sheila Flaherty in Blog Posts, What this Shrink is Learning 4 Comments

RAISE AN OCEAN

“Fear is a natural reaction to moving closer to the truth.”

~ Pema Chodron

Today’s post will be short. I’m grateful to have seven sessions scheduled back to back today from noon to seven. Thanks to all who’ve commented and sent suggestions. I hope to make personal replies to each tonight after work.

Today, I want to talk about the importance of practicing extreme self-compassion. I’ve been giving suggestions of how to stay (relatively) sane during our time of isolation. I hope you find them helpful. What I don’t want is for you to feel like I’m some kind of a drill sergeant, or feel like a failure if you can’t do everything you set out to do. More than ever, we need kindness—to others and to ourselves. Take it all one day at a time. If something helps, add it to your list. If it doesn’t, scratch it off.

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What this Shrink is Learning: How to Survive a Pandemic (#2)

March 22, 2020 By Sheila Flaherty in Blog Posts, What this Shrink is Learning 10 Comments

Resilience

“Resilience is accepting your new reality, even if it’s less good than the one you had before. You can fight it, you can do nothing but scream about what you’ve lost, or you can accept that and try to put together something that’s good.”

~ Elizabeth Edwards

Thanks to all of you who read yesterday’s post and have shared, commented, and/or reached out to me. I’m honored that you’re following me, and grateful my words are helping. I’m going to try to write something every day. I’m keeping a running list of what I hope will help all of us stay sane and relatively happy during these crazy times.

I would also like to offer free mini-consultations. If you are in immediate danger of self-harm, feel in danger from someone in your household, of feel in danger of harming someone else, please call 911. But if you just want a quick question answered or feel you need guidance in a particular situation, or want to share what is or is not working for you, please feel free to email me at SheilaFlaherty2012@gmail.com. I will respond as quickly as possible. If it’s urgent, please put URGENT in the subject line.More

What this Shrink is Learning: How to Survive a Pandemic (#1)

March 21, 2020 By Sheila Flaherty in Blog Posts, What this Shrink is Learning 19 Comments

Calm

“Times are difficult globally; awakening is no longer a luxury or an ideal…It’s becoming essential that we learn how to relate sanely with difficult times. The earth seems to be beseeching us to connect with joy and discover our innermost essence. This is the best way we can benefit others.”

~Pema Chodron

 Like everyone I know, or know of, my reality is suddenly surreal. Quarantines and restrictions are getting stricter every day. As this week has evolved, the reality is sinking in—we are in for the long haul, and that is indefinite. Isolation is our new normal. So, how can we be resilient? How can we survive with grace?

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A Story About a Coat

January 25, 2020 By Sheila Flaherty in Blog Posts 22 Comments

I bought “Big Guy” the day my hair froze the first winter I lived in Chicago. Big Guy is a calf-length, black, down, Eddie Bauer coat. It zips up the front, has a hood that draws tightly around my face, and is good for weather down to -40°. Big Guy is thirty-seven years old this winter. More

Repost: Hope and Action

October 31, 2019 By Sheila Flaherty in Blog Posts 2 Comments

As another October comes to an end, I invite you to read a repost of “Hope and Action.” Originally published on October 22, 2012, it was my very first blog post and details my first experience with breast cancer. At that time, I was a ten-year survivor. Since then, I’ve have written nine more posts (listed below) describing my two recurrences and what life is like as a breast cancer fighter/survivor.

Even during the pink-ribbon-festooned month of October, the fear of breast cancer is so great most women cannot bring themselves to conduct self-examinations or schedule mammograms. My mission, in sharing my personal experiences, is to enlighten readers as to all I’ve learned so far, inspire those women whose fear has kept them from scheduling screenings to be brave and do so (Mammograms have saved my life three times in the past seventeen years.), and empower those walking a journey similar to mine to take my hand and keep going…we can walk together.

Most everyone knows someone whose life has been touched by breast cancer. I hope my stories can help you or someone you love.

If you wish to read more about my personal experiences, here are the links to nine more posts in the order in which they were written:

Suspended

Cancer Redux

Moving Forward

All is Well!

And Then…Cancer

A Tribute to My Best Forever Friend

Life Lessons I’m Learning from Cancer: Lesson One

Life Lessons I’m Learning from Cancer: Number Two

Telling it How it IS


I didn’t realize what a daunting task it would be when I decided to write my very first blog in October on the topic of breast cancer.  The original idea came from a celebratory place—on Friday, September 28, I had my yearly diagnostic mammogram and was declared cancer free.  I am now a 10 year survivor—which puts me in the 82nd percentile of women who make it this long.

Evanston Northwestern Hospital Breast Cancer Treatment Advertisement. Photo & Advertisement © 2003, ENH
Evanston Northwestern Hospital Breast Cancer Treatment Advertisement. Photo & Advertisement © 2003, ENH

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Telling It How It IS

April 7, 2019 By Sheila Flaherty in Blog Posts 15 Comments

Cancer is with you forever.

~Shannen Doherty

This Saturday, April 6, marked the anniversary of my mastectomy. The test results are in and, once again, I’m a one-year survivor. It’s a funny place to be. You might think it would be all champagne and roses. Or a fist pumping, “Whoo hoo! I kicked cancer’s ass!” But it’s not either of those.More

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The Weight of Sorrow

What this Shrink is Learning: How to Survive a Pandemic (#6) Managing Fear

“In the silence you don’t know, you must go on, I can’t go on, I’ll go on.” ~Samuel Beckett Anyone who’s not scared right now is either an innocent child, an adult in denial, or someone unclear on the concept of a pandemic. As shrinks say, “Fear is appropriate affect for what we’re going through.” […]

What this Shrink is Learning: How to Survive a Pandemic (#5) Protecting Our Sleep is Critical

“Dreaming permits each and every one of us to be quietly and safely insane every night of our lives.” ~William C. Dement If you ask people how they’re doing these days, the most common answer is, “I’m tired.” Reality has set in—this quarantine isn’t temporary. We’re realizing it will likely be months before we’re in […]

What this Shrink is Learning: How to Survive a Pandemic (#4) Strive for Balance

“Be aware of wonder. Live a balanced life – learn some and think some and draw and paint and sing and dance and play and work every day some.” ~ Robert Fulgham Unlike yesterday, when I had to jump out of bed to make the healthy choice of joining an online Zumba class, today, I […]

What this Shrink is Learning: How to Survive a Pandemic (#3) The Importance of Self-Compassion

“Fear is a natural reaction to moving closer to the truth.” ~ Pema Chodron Today’s post will be short. I’m grateful to have seven sessions scheduled back to back today from noon to seven. Thanks to all who’ve commented and sent suggestions. I hope to make personal replies to each tonight after work. Today, I […]

What this Shrink is Learning: How to Survive a Pandemic (#2)

“Resilience is accepting your new reality, even if it’s less good than the one you had before. You can fight it, you can do nothing but scream about what you’ve lost, or you can accept that and try to put together something that’s good.” ~ Elizabeth Edwards Thanks to all of you who read yesterday’s […]

What this Shrink is Learning: How to Survive a Pandemic (#1)

“Times are difficult globally; awakening is no longer a luxury or an ideal…It’s becoming essential that we learn how to relate sanely with difficult times. The earth seems to be beseeching us to connect with joy and discover our innermost essence. This is the best way we can benefit others.” ~Pema Chodron  Like everyone I […]

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