An Interview With Jake Frankel
Support. Don’t go this road alone. What that support looks like is entirely individual. Maybe it’s a trusted friend (or friends) or loved one. Maybe a support group, either in person or online. Books, podcasts. Start “close to home” with the lowest hanging fruit possible, then branch out as time goes on. You’ll need different support at different times. Even if you think something isn’t for you, give it a try. The dramatic loss is itself something out of your comfort zone, so the healing support will be, too.
The world seems to be reeling from one crisis to another. We’ve experienced a global pandemic, economic uncertainty, political and social turmoil. Then there are personal traumas that people are dealing with, such as the loss of a loved one, health issues, unemployment, divorce or the loss of a job. Coping with change can be traumatic as it often affects every part of our lives.
How do you deal with loss or change in your life? What coping strategies can you use? Do you ignore them and just push through, or do you use specific techniques? In this series called “5 Things You Need To Heal After a Dramatic Loss Or Life Change” we are interviewing successful people who were able to heal after a difficult life change such as the loss of a loved one, loss of a job, or other personal hardships. We are also talking to Wellness experts, Therapists, and Mental Health Professionals who can share lessons from their experience and research.
As a part of this interview series, I had the pleasure of interviewing Helene Kiser.
Helene Kiser, MA, MS, MFA, is an award-winning writer, editor, teacher, and writing coach. She is currently at work on her second book, a memoir, about her grief experience after the death of her husband. You can find her online at www.helenekiser.com.
Thank you so much for doing this with us! Before we start, our readers would love to “get to know you” a bit better. Can you tell us a bit about your childhood backstory?
I grew up in a small town, the “bonus” child of much older parents. Even my cousins were much older, with almost a generation between some of us. Because I came along late in life, my parents included me in their activities, so I spent most of my time with other adults. I guess I was precocious (I don’t remember, but many have said so), so I generally felt more comfortable with adults or books than my age peers. In fact, although I had two older siblings, they were both in college by the time I hit second grade, so I grew up much like an only child.
I had friends, but I never really felt like I fit in anywhere. Until I met my husband, I never quite had a feeling of belonging. Our marriage, and the family we created, became my tribe.
Can you please give us your favorite “Life Lesson Quote”? Can you share how that was relevant to you in your life?
Oh gosh. I have two. The first is on a magnet I’ve had on my fridge forever: “Always make new mistakes.” I love the acknowledgement that mistakes are not just possible in life, they’re inevitable. But we should always strive to learn from any we’ve made so as not to repeat those particular mistakes in the future. I hold myself to a probably unreachable standard a lot of the time, and it keeps me grounded to remember than while perfection is never feasible, improvement certainly is.
The second is the punchline to my father’s favorite joke: “That’s Africa, baby.” A scorpion asks a crocodile to take him to the other side of the river, but the crocodile initially refuses because he knows the scorpion will sting him, which will kill them both. The scorpion promises not to, so the crocodile eventually agrees. But of course, halfway across the river, the scorpion does sting the crocodile. The crocodile asks why, and that’s the scorpion’s answer: “That’s Africa, baby.” To my mind, it’s a lesson that there are so many things in life we can’t change or control. Like the idea of making new mistakes, it’s my version of the “know the difference between what you can change and what you can’t.”
You have been blessed with much success. In your opinion, what are the top three qualities that you possess that have helped you accomplish so much? If you can, please share a story or example for each.
I’ll point to my strengths as determined by the Clifton Strengths finder; they’ve remained constant over the many years I’ve revisited the test. My top three qualities are strategic, intellection, and input. Because I’m strategic, I can instinctively anticipate and plan for outcomes, envision and evaluate multiple scenarios, and plan, plan, plan. I found myself in a situation I never would have chosen for myself, and the only action I could take was to determine how I was going to react to it. Ultimately, I decided to honor Kai’s life by living mine with renewed intention. This ties into intellection, which is the act of thinking in a mindful, deliberate way. My mind is very much like a gerbil wheel in that it is constantly churning. I enjoy reflection and contemplation. When my children were little, we used to watch the Arthur television show. We found a soundtrack of original songs from the show at the library which we sang along with in the car. A character named “Brain” had a song all about how much he liked to think. That’s me! My ability to clarify and articulate ideas in my professional life also translates to an interior monologue that keeps me grounded and thoughtful in the true sense of the word. Input is similar, because it’s the way in which I research and store information. I quickly became a bit of a grief expert so I could understand what was happening to me and not feel like I was going crazy. Now, that storehouse of knowledge has helped me to be a comfort to others in my circle who have also dealt with significant loss.
Let’s now shift to the main part of our discussion about ‘Healing after Loss’. Do you feel comfortable sharing with our readers about your dramatic loss or life change?
Absolutely. In November 2016, my husband Kai was diagnosed with stage IV lung cancer. He was just 59 years old and in otherwise excellent health. He’d been in and out of numerous doctors’ offices for a few months and was being unsuccessfully treated for a variety of surface ailments such as sinus infections and the like. We’d just moved to a new city in May, so when his symptoms began in late August, everyone had assumed upper respiratory problems related to a new climate. Of course, the reality was far more serious.
Less than a year before the diagnosis, he’d had knee replacement surgery, before which a full battery of tests were done, including scans that might have caught the cancer if they’d been looking for it. Same with the useless antibiotics for a sinus infection he didn’t have. Like the majority of others who have lung cancer, by the time it was discovered, it was already too late. He died just five months later.
We’d met when I was just 21 years old and married a couple of years later. Our son was born a year and a half later, our daughter two years after that. The four of us were exceptionally close and rarely spent time apart. Kai’s family life hadn’t been terribly fulfilling either, so together we created the family we both wished we’d had.
The entirety of my adult life was spent with this man, my best friend and life partner. The speed of his diagnosis, decline, and death pushed me into an advanced state of shock. I had no clue how to navigate the simplest business of life as a widow, not a wife. My husband, my family, have always been my biggest priorities, with no other activity or achievement even coming close. So, in a very real sense, I truly had no idea who I was or how to live.
What was the scariest part of that event? What did you think was the worst thing that could happen to you?
Honestly, the worst thing I could imagine happening had already happened. I had survived. For the first time in my life, I was completely alone, in a city where I hardly knew anyone. The kids were off at college. The only person on the planet I needed, the only one who could understand the depth of my loss, no longer existed in the world. It’s like the seals you see trapped on a chunk of Arctic ice that’s broken off and is just floating among all these predators, completely adrift and doomed. No lifeline in sight.
He’d been so young. I was even younger. We’d had so much ahead of us, so many dreams and plans for the rest of our lives together. Now there was no “together” anymore. Just me.
How did you react in the short term?
After the funeral home came to pick up his body, I remember driving back to our empty apartment. I stopped to get gas at the Exxon on the corner of the Connecticut and Porter intersection. It was about 5pm on a Saturday afternoon, and as the gas was pumping, I was stunned to see so many people just out living their lives, like nothing of consequence had happened. Of course, nothing of consequence had happened to them.
That out-of-body state of shock stayed with me in the days and weeks afterwards. It was a bit like sleepwalking, where I’d just “awake” to myself being somewhere, doing something, with no idea how I’d gotten there or how long I’d been blacked out. If I hadn’t had a dog who needed to be walked, I’m not sure I’d have seen a reason to get out of bed. I did get out of bed, get myself showered and dressed, and so forth, but I have almost no memory of that first year at all.
After the dust settled, what coping mechanisms did you use?
I was working a 9 to 5 job at the time and was only allowed five days of bereavement leave. Returning to work so soon was terrible in all the ways you might imagine, but in a way it was a relief to have somewhere I had to be and projects I needed to focus on. The mechanical process of setting an alarm, getting up, showered, and dressed, and escaping the same four walls forced me to keep living, even when that was the last thing I cared about. I don’t mean I was suicidal, of course, just a cloak of “what’s the point” over everything. The external motivation powered me through during the early months when I had no internal motivation for anything.
Can you share with us how you were eventually able to heal and “let go” of the negative aspects of that event?
I would not say that I have let go of my deep grief over Kai’s loss. Nor do I want to! Where deep love exists, equally deep grief comes in to fill the void. But life does go on, of course. So, while I’ll never stop missing him, I’m rarely gut-punched by the loss now, at least not in a way that sneaks up and surprises me. I have huge amounts of empathy for others who have dealt with similar losses, and, when I’ve been asked, I know that my experience helps to hold a mirror up to the experience of others, so they feel understood even when they don’t understand themselves. To the extent that Kai’s loss influenced any positive change in my life, it’s that I truly “get it” with others and can be more open about my own pain and healing journey.
In my own grief journey, I found writing to be cathartic. Did you engage in any writing during that time, such as journaling, poetry, or writing letters? If yes, we’d love to hear about any stories or examples.
I had the opposite reaction — I couldn’t write anything at all! My brain wouldn’t hold on to a thought. After some time, maybe six months or so, I started jotting down notes, impressions, images. I didn’t consciously think, oh I need to write this down so I don’t forget, so I can honor him, or so I can make sense of the chaos, but in hindsight, that’s exactly what I was doing. I am a writer, first and foremost, and Kai and I met and lived as writers. Our shared language was the written word. Those notes became the framework for what is now my memoir-in-progress. While I’m not writing the memoir as a letter to Kai, my writing process itself is very much in conversation with him. He was always my first reader, my most insightful critic. I ask him, what was this like? And in that inner conversation, I find my way into each part of the narrative. Because he kept journals during much of his life, including of course during the weeks of his illness, I’m blessed with his perspective on many of the events, situations, and people involved. So the memoir weaves threads of my perspective, his perspective, and our perspective.
Aside from letting go, what did you do to create an internal, emotional shift to feel better?
Spoiler alert: we are all going to die! I am going to die! Everyone we love is also going to die! I’m in no way minimizing the pain of the loss, which is ongoing, but while I would have never chosen it to happen to Kai in that way or at that time, the ultimate outcome is hardly “unfair.” Of course, I would have preferred that we’d both have lived for many more decades and one night had a nice day together, kissed each other goodnight, and gone to sleep together, never to wake up. The universe is not out to get me just because that didn’t happen.
Kai’s mortal life is over, but as long as I am alive, our love also lives. Had I been the one to die, I would most emphatically not have wanted him to spend the remainder of his life being devastated and unable to find joy. He didn’t want that for me. So I chose to live for both of us.
Is there a particular person who you are grateful towards who helped get you to cope and heal? Can you share a story about that?
Not a person, but I’m grateful to have had my miniature schnauzer, Oscar. He was grieving in his own way during this time. If he wasn’t sitting on my feet when I was at the computer or pressed up against my legs when I sat of the couch, he would lie down facing the door with his head between his front paws, waiting to hear the footfalls that weren’t coming. Taking care of his physical needs gave structure to my day and got me out of the house for regular walks in all types of weather. Sharing my confusion and loneliness with him, even though he was “just a dog,” made me feel less alone. We took care of each other.
Were you able to eventually reframe the consequences and turn it into a positive situation? Can you explain how you did that?
No positive situation would have been possible for such a worst-case scenario outcome. That said, I’m over seven years out now, and while I never would have believed it at the time, I feel “regular” again. I can laugh and love and survive. That doesn’t make me strong, but it makes me human. In the longer term, I’ve definitely become a more empathetic person, which is nothing but positive. I’m also keenly aware of how short life really is and understand on a deep level that we need to make the most of the time we have. What kind of life do I want to live?
What did you learn about yourself from this very difficult experience? Can you please explain with a story or example?
By nature and habit, I’m a very private person. But the whole experience, from his illness through his death and the time that’s followed over these years, I learned that while I thought I was protecting myself, my default to “closed” cost me the opportunity to have relationships and experiences that is a hallmark of people with a more open personality. I learned — I’m still learning — to share myself with others in a way that invites community while still keeping privacy in its place. That’s a balance I never had before. I didn’t see it as a weakness.
Fantastic. Here is the main question of our interview. Based on your experiences and knowledge, what advice would you give others to help them get through a difficult life challenge? What are your “5 Things You Need To Heal After a Dramatic Loss Or Life Change? Please share a story or example for each.
1 . The first one is easy: time. Healing won’t happen on anyone else’s timeline. The stages of grief — denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance — don’t move in nice linear fashion. We don’t “graduate” to bargaining after we’ve “finished” feeling anger. And while it used to be that widows stayed in mourning for a year, the worst of it may take less time or much more. No roadmap exists. Even if you’re blessed to not have people around you who expect you to “just snap out of it” at a certain point, don’t do yourself the disservice of expecting a quicker healing process than you need. Imagine an orange. Now smash a sharp nail down through the skin and as deep in the flesh as it goes. Then pull it out. The nail is gone, but the wound remains. Same with grief. You can heal — and you will — but healing doesn’t mean the damage isn’t permanent. That’s not a deficiency! It proves you’re human! Would you really want to “get over” your loved one so easily? I know I wouldn’t.
2 . Support. Don’t go this road alone. What that support looks like is entirely individual. Maybe it’s a trusted friend (or friends) or loved one. Maybe a support group, either in person or online. Books, podcasts. Start “close to home” with the lowest hanging fruit possible, then branch out as time goes on. You’ll need different support at different times. Even if you think something isn’t for you, give it a try. The dramatic loss is itself something out of your comfort zone, so the healing support will be, too. I attended two separate in-person support groups once I was past the initial shock. Neither helped me in the long term, not because there was a problem with the groups themselves or groups in general, it’s just that I’m not a “support group type” of person. In the short term, though, they were very helpful. We shared our grief, talked about our missing partners, shared stories about them and our relationships. Step out of your “natural tendencies” and cast a wide net to see what resources exist. And if all you need is to have a good cry, find someone who will let you do that. Tell people what you need, if you know what it is in that moment.
3 . The third one might surprise you. Common wisdom says not to make any major life changes or decisions after experiencing dramatic loss. But in my case, the willingness to make changes, to let go of the status quo, was, if not empowering, exactly, necessary. After Kai’s loss, I had no option but to move, as the condo we were renting in a high cost of living city involved a rent higher than my monthly salary. Against some experts’ opinions, I gave away or sold a significant amount of “stuff.” I packed up and moved to a different, more affordable place. With the help of a trusted financial advisor, I rearranged my assets to target (and in some cases, create) different goals — supporting a life in which the only financial support was my own. There were many more personal changes I made. Each of these turned out to be valuable steps in my healing process. I do agree that taking drastic, irreversible action is inadvisable when it can be avoided, but don’t extrapolate that to include all change as bad. As the Arby’s tagline says, “different is good.” Or at least it can be. Your life is different now, after all!
4 . Be intentional about looking for moments that bring you joy. This has nothing whatsoever to do with “every cloud has a silver lining” or other treacly nonsense written in greeting cards. No matter what joy I will have in my life, I’ll never “get over” Kai’s death. And nothing will somehow “make up for it.” But that doesn’t mean there is no room in my life for joy. A good cup of coffee, a crackling fireplace, a cozy sweater, the first spring buds. Your grandchild’s face, a good book, a solid golf swing. Joy is not a synonym for happiness. But it is an antonym for despair. Look for those moments, and artificially create them if you have to at first. Tell yourself, “I’m brewing a perfect cup of coffee, just the way I like it. I’m using my favorite mug, and I’ll take it to my favorite seat.” And so on. You might feel ridiculous at first, but a time will come when you realize you’re genuinely feeling joy, not just talking yourself into it. And when you are mindful about seeking joy, recognizing it and naming it when it comes, those moments will increase in both number and duration. Life is for the living! So live!
5 . Finally, there is no human experience about which we cannot remind ourselves: this too shall pass. Every state in which we find ourselves in life if, by nature and definition, temporary. Don’t let yourself fall into a state of self-blame. Yes, you probably did or didn’t do things you regret, said or didn’t say things you’d like to revise. You’re human! Acknowledge them, feel bad if you must, but then let go of it. I was a good wife, and we had a truly excellent marriage, but I would be a much better wife now. That doesn’t mean I failed in my role while he was alive. It also doesn’t mean I wasn’t a good wife! Don’t dwell on the negative or the circumstances you can’t change. Turn it around instead: I’m a flawed human being, and so was Kai. But we loved each other with our whole hearts despite those flaws. So much of this loss is beyond your ability to let go, but you should hold this one as light and loose as a balloon. Acknowledge your thoughts and feelings. Then let them float away, out of your reach.
YouTube link: https://youtu.be/yILKyNKRLbs
You are a person of great influence. If you could inspire a movement that would bring the most amount of good to the most amount of people, what would that be?
I’m not sure if this is a movement, exactly, but I wish we as a western society were more upfront about grief and loss. Most of us live as if “it will never happen to us.” Those of us who are members of “the club no one wants to join” suffer deeply but in isolation. No one knows what to say or how to act.
Grief changes everything. Massive personal loss marks a distinct “before” and “after.” We have no real language for that kind of literal life-changing sorrow, no road map for how to behave, to help others or ourselves. If I had a magic wand, I’d wave away all this kind of loss, but as a second choice, I’d love to see these experiences come out of the shadows.
We are very blessed that some very prominent names in Business, VC funding, Sports, and Entertainment read this column. Is there a person in the world, or in the US with whom you would love to have a private breakfast or lunch with, and why? He or she might just see this if we tag them. 🙂
Louise Erdrich’s book The Blue Jay’s Dance showed me how to be both a writer and a mother. It was published in 1995, when I had an infant at home and one on the way. I’ve always been grateful for that book, and of course her other work as well. She is also no stranger to grief and loss.
How can our readers further follow your work online?
As a writer, I publish regularly on related topics. My website, www.helenekiser.com, features several of my recent essays.
Thank you so much for sharing these important insights. We wish you continued success and good health!
Helene Kiser On 5 Things You Need To Heal After A Dramatic Loss Or Life Change was originally published in Authority Magazine on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.