Some years ago, my family was in the midst of a long episode of severe trauma.
My Grandma was in her early 90s at the time. She watched as one of her children went through a period of early onset cognitive decline. It was a spiraling situation filled with strange behavior and sometimes terrifying consequences.
Grandma once remarked – after over 9 decades of life – “this is the worst thing that’s ever happened to our family.” She was distraught, sad, scared and at times depressed.
This ordeal went on for many years. Constant stress and feelings of hopelessness were unrelenting. Day after day, an exhausting slow drip of bad news.
Eventually, this caused physical manifestations for Grandma. Most visibly, her hair started falling out. And not the gradual normal hair loss that befalls people at an advanced age. Her hair fell out in clumps, for several months.
She talked to a doctor about it, but nothing could be done through medicine. She was in great health for her age. The source of her hair loss wasn’t physical – it was stress.
She had internalized many years of worry about her child; so much that her body couldn’t take it any more.
Overall, she was cheerful about it. She acknowledged it head-on and used doses of humor to soften her embarrassment.
She wore wigs for a while. And she made it work! The wigs looked remarkably real and complimented her stately demeanor. She was always stylish and well-dressed, and she maintained that even with the wigs.
One day in the middle of all this, she declared that she was going to write down her thoughts and get them out of her head.
Over several weeks, she sat at her computer and churned out her memories of our ‘lost’ family member. It was rich, powerful writing – honest and straight from the heart. She took her time, and purged it all out.
She emptied the negative thoughts from her mind, and loosened up.
I noticed changes in our interactions after that. Our conversations shifted from worry to faith. Her tone was more care-free. She had a broader perspective. I watched her mature and grow, even though she was already well into her 90s.
It was immensely inspiring. I had always admired her, but this experience gave me an even greater sense of reverence. She demonstrated her capacity to change. Not easy when you’re almost 100. I’ll never forget it.
And her hair grew back. Before long, the wigs were gone. Her shoulders dropped a bit. Her smile and laughter returned. She relaxed.
Of all the things she taught me, which comprises a long list, this lesson may have been the most important of all.
When times are rough and things aren’t going your way, don’t get trapped in your head. Sit down and write out your thoughts – the good, bad and ugly. Especially the bad and ugly. Do that, and you’ll find your way to the other side.