When we refuse to give love because we fear pain or loss, then our lives will be empty, our loss greater.  - Rabbi Shai Specht

This newsletter is a very personal one for me. Those of you who follow me on Facebook and twitter are probably aware that I lost my 24 yr. old niece in July to a rare bone cancer called Ewing's Sarcoma. Brenna had been diagnosed at 21 and battled the disease courageously for the past 3 years. I don't have any children, I loved Brenna like she was my child and her death hit me very hard. This year, I also lost a dear girlfriend and her husband (newlyweds), who both died instantly in a tragic car accident and my 16 yr. old cat died. They say death come in three's, well, I guess this is proof.  Yes, it's been difficult but I have learned over the course of my life how to grieve, as I've lost many people over the years, including my grandfather to suicide. 

Note: For those of you new to this newsletter, I promise the next issue will be cheerier in tone. If you can't wait that long, the unsubscribe links are at the top and bottom of this email. Please do not mark this email as spam. You opted-in to receive it and when you mark it as spam, you penalize the people who love this newsletter by making it difficult for them to receive it.

Death can be very fattening. I can't tell you how many times I've had someone tell me, "Catherine, I was doing great but then my mother or ________ died, and then I packed on 50 lbs."

This is why we need to practice a good self-care routine. When a crisis hits, we won't practice what isn't already second nature to us. It's just too easy to fall in a heap and eat quarts of ice cream to soothe or numb ourselves. This is never a satisfactory way to deal with grief or loss. Feelings that are repressed lodge in the body and can result in illness and depression. When people don't grieve, they can find themselves lashing out in anger, eating, drinking, drugging, shopping, or being numb and sleepwalking through life.

What you can feel, you can heal. Grieving well involves allowing yourself the time and space to feel the pain. Everyone grieves differently, and for some, this may mean some serious bouts of crying, but wallowing for weeks on end doing nothing isn't healthy. Luckily, most of us need to show up on a job or have other responsibilities, and that can be a good thing, as long as we don't completely throw ourselves into our work to avoid grieving. It may be necessary to cut back on our schedule.  We need to be extra gentle with ourselves, engage in more nourishing and fun activities, and not take on extra responsibilities for a while.

The good thing about grief is that it often makes us take stock of our lives to make sure we are living a life that really matters. For closure, it helps to have some healing rituals. In the case of my niece, I have a little memorial area in my living room with pictures of her. For exercise, I dance every morning and since her death, I've been dancing to Walt Disney's The Lion King CD; we saw the movie together when she was a little girl and she adored it. The song The Circle of Life is so appropriate now and as I dance to that and Hakuna Matata, which she loved to sing, I picture her smiling at me, amused. She shared my love of dancing and it's my way of honoring her memory and it brings me much comfort.

Living well requires knowing how to grieve well because the truth is life is full of loss. None of us escapes it. We lose jobs, people, situations and things that we desire. And, as overeaters, we suffer some losses that are unique to us. Many of us have gotten our weight under control only to lose the results of all our hard work once stress and other life situations demanded our attention. Or we may have lost weight quickly on a fad diet and gained all the weight back and more.

As overeating took over our lives, we may have lost confidence and faith in ourselves, and lost friendships and social opportunities because, afraid of rejection, we isolated ourselves from life. We may have lost out on intimacy with our partners or never pursued an intimate relationship because we felt ashamed of how our bodies looked. We may have lost career opportunities or not pursued educational goals for fear of being discriminated against because of our weight.

As the years went by, these losses began to pile up. Life began to pass us by. We became accustomed to the emptiness of our lives, using food to fill in the gaps of a life not fully savored and lived. Often, a nagging little voice would say, "Is this all there is?" Or, we would feel a tug towards a dream for something more. Yet when we tried to move forward, we would be overcome with fear and run back towards the safety of our rut, where food was always waiting.

Overeating is often a refusal to fully live life. A life spent trying to avoid pain and loss is a living death. Some of us have resigned ourselves to a life of weighting. And some of us have decided that life is worth risking the pain of loss for the reward of a life well lived.

Pain is a part of life. The more we try to avoid it, the more pain we cause ourselves. All life asks of us is to show up and participate. Yes, life does and will break our hearts, but if we want a great life that is the price we must pay. Otherwise, we're already dead.

Are you willing to meet life on life's terms?

Fear of loss multiplies loss. I must risk pain to gain a life. I must give love to find love.

What parts of my life are calling for me to extend myself and greet them with my participation, attention and love?