The Launch

Flurries of emotions push me, pound me, knock me off centre in the week before my book launch. Bruce passed away only a week before, and grief is still raw and powerful. I function, while trying to understand and accept that he is really gone. I go through periods of rage which I try to channel into productive action. I go through sadness which sucks my energy so low I can barely breathe. Much of the time I am apathetic - how can I care about anything at all when my brother is so unexpectedly, so suddenly gone?

I get through because I have developed strong, loving relationships with strong, loving people. My husband, shattered himself from losing his "brother," is a rock for me. My dear friends stay connected in the ways they can, and show their kindness with their words, their actions, their thoughtful gifts and most of all, their empathy.

And then my sisters, united, flying in from Alberta to be with me. To grieve with me. To support me to proceed with the launch. We balance our time together in the two days before the launch between the need for us to speak of and honour our brother and preparing for the event. After an impromptu and perfect ceremony for Bruce at the lake, our attention shifts to necessary tasks. Theresa has experience and Jo has willing hands. As a team, we can do this. I am ready.

Genuine delight fills me as guests begin to arrive - friends and acquaintances who drove, ferried and flew from near and far. So many surprises, and I am humbled by the support. I swirl around, meeting and greeting people I know and love, and new people I am grateful to meet.

The cafe fills, and I realize it is standing room only. A full house. Time for speeches. I almost cry when Theresa chokes up during her introduction. Fortunately, my work as a facilitator for mental health groups enables me to take the stage, deliver my speech, read a chapter and answer questions. I am surprised to notice that I am even enjoying myself!

The launch is a resounding success. We sell out of books and have to direct others to order copies from Amazon. Guests are happy, and I am happy. I feel light as air, and later that night I am singing and dancing when the family gathers for the after-party. This book gig is pretty cool. 

I don't realize until I awaken, long before dawn, how energetically dysregulated I have been. The long, emotional days before the launch, the adrenaline rush during, and the exhaustion after have my mind and body buzzing and burnt out. My dialectic behavioural therapist mind reflects on the use of DBT skills that I used, coached by my skillful co-worker and phenomenal friend Micke: she reminded me to "cope ahead" when I anticipated I would struggle with anxiety.  I reflect that I was able to be mindful, fully present and fully participating, which increased my ability to be effective. I had "built mastery" by learning public speaking and practicing my speech. And I know for the next event, I will focus more on "PLEASE" skills - taking care of my physical needs to reduce vulnerability to emotions.

And through it all I used gratitude. Quite simply, I used love. So I will end this blog with a heart-filled and heart-felt thank you to all the wonderful people who attended my launch and were integral to its success. Thank you to the many people sending me messages and connecting with my words. May the book serve its intention, to promote awareness of complex trauma and trauma informed practice, reduce stigma, and increase hope, compassion and love.

EVENT: Book Launch

 Please join us for the official book launch of

'Borderline Shine: A Memoir'

by Connie Greshner

WHEN: Saturday, February 15, 2020 1:00-3:00 p.m.

WHERE: The Crooked Spoon Cafe, 970 Shoppers Row, Campbell River BC

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FREE ADMISSION & OPEN TO THE PUBLIC

Not Part of the Plan

I found out three days ago that my beloved brother Bruce died. It's hard to describe the disbelief, the shock, the pain that has followed. I'm fumbling for words to meet the need I have to speak of my love and my grief.

I keep circling back to "I don't understand." Death at any time is difficult for us human survivors to comprehend. How can a whole person - body, mind and spirit - be present in one moment in time, interwoven in our lives, a part of our own identity, and then in the next moment, be gone? A hole has been gashed in the fabric of my universe. I try to comprehend this new world that I find myself in, this world where Bruce isn't here. My touchstone, my support, my biggest fan.

My brother.

And I feel the surge of anger rising. This wasn't the plan. Bruce and I had a plan, it was a good plan, we were working on the plan, and it was almost here. Bruce was almost here. His plane ticket was bought, he was coming to stay with me for three weeks, and he swore up and down he would be here permanently by June. He was going to live with me and start a new life out here. I was going to get some land and we were going to have a cabin and he was going to take care of things for me. Bruce and I talked about the plan all the time, and the wheels were in motion.

I didn't even know he was sick. People thought he had a cold. I hadn't heard from him in a week, and I assumed he was working off the grid, saving up for his trip. I left a message for him to call me, a message left when he may already have been dead. None of us liked it that he lived alone, but he was a strong, capable, fifty six year old man. None of us imagined him dying alone in his bed, and now we are left wondering how and why.

I will never again hear his dry and quick wit; he was the funniest guy I knew. I'll never hear his frank and honest words, always calling bullshit where he saw it. I'll never hear him say, "I love you Connie Lynne," which he said every single time we talked.

Two brothers gone in five years. Both strong, sensitive, kind men that I am proud to have had as brothers.

Bruce! This was not in the plan!

I want to believe that I can feel his arms around me. I want to believe that he is with each of us who remember him. I keep seeing flickering lights and I know people would think I was crazy believing that Bruce is letting me know he is here. Who cares what people think. I know, one hundred percent in my heart, that Bruce is with his heartbroken, beautiful daughter, his little girl that he loved unconditionally.

I feel Bruce's spirit beside me as I try to figure out how to navigate this new world where he is not physically present. I'm having a hard time giving a shit about anything right now, but I also know that Bruce was my biggest support. He had read my memoir and told me that he had cried, and he told me many times that he was proud of me.

So I know that I have to proceed with my book launch, and I can do it because my sisters are flying out to stand by me. We three girls, three of the five children who survived our mother's death. We are connected like never before, and protected always by our brothers.

Not part of the plan, Brucey.

Stick to the plan, Connie Lynne.

I'll do my best, my brother.

Too Much of a Good Thing

I wake up after a sleepless night. Hours spent ruminating, thoughts feelings whirling through my brain. I am sore and my eyes burn.

I am grouchy.

Too much, too much, my heart cries. My body can't keep up with my life. Between adjusting to a challenging new job, trying to organize a book launch, and parenting hormonal preteens, I am energetically tapped.

Emotions are energy, and I have been deluged by emotions arising from these mounting pressures and responsibilities. I have the dialectical behaviour skills to "manage" and "regulate" emotions, such as acknowledging, naming, and nonjudgmentally allowing emotions: I can shift my attention to other emotions, such as gratitude; I can be mindful and stay present in the moment to get a short break from the anxiety of the future; I can set boundaries to reduce responsibilities; I can practice self care and accumulate positive emotions; shit, I am one skillful mofo.

And I'm friggin' grouchy. All of these skills take time and energy, and there are not enough hours in the day to function and process the emotions. They accumulate, and I am full, fed up, tapped out, and grouchy.

I am even grouchy at myself. I'm sick of the complaining, whining voice in my head. This is what you always wanted, Whiner, you're living the freakin' dream.

I have built the life I have always wanted, but anyone who thinks that once you have achieved your goals your life will be easy is sadly mistaken. You still struggle. It's the human condition.

So I take a deep breath, I connect to Wise Mind, and I ask myself, "So, Therapist Con, what do you suggest now?"

And Wise Mind replies: "whenever you don't know what to do, choose love."

Immediate and unbidden, tears well in my eyes. Compassion, compassion, compassion. Yes, you're tired, of course you are. You are doing your best, and even when it's good things happening, it is a lot to feel. You're just a human body, and it is painful to experience so much sometimes.

I recognize that grouchy is my fight response, my way of trying to protect myself from "more." I recognize the underlying beliefs that have created the grouchy, that in the past "tired" meant "weak and vulnerable", and "weak and vulnerable" meant something terrible would happen. This chain of thought is not logical, and tapping into Wise Mind allows me to separate my emotional fears from reality. It's okay to feel tired. It's okay to feel grouchy, it's the way my Emotion Mind is telling me I need to rest. That is all. That is all.

Pulling away from Emotion Mind, I recognize that the skills I am practicing ARE working, because I AM getting through. I am getting shit done, and doing it "good enough." While I'm working, writing, and parenting, I am experiencing excitement, gratitude, joy and satisfaction. I am resisting having a drink to escape the intensity of my emotions, which historically has been my go-to distress tolerance activity. Drinking is highly effective in the short term to help a person feel better, and my Dear Readers, do not underestimate the lure and call of the bottle. Maybe I can even recognize that not only am I getting through, I'm rocking this time of my life.

And now, I notice I am a little less grouchy.

So if you made it through this rambling blog, I hope it was a helpful example of how you can practice (practice!) dialectical behaviour therapy skills. Thanks, Marsha Linehan.