Companioning the Bereaved: A Soulful Guide for Counselors & Caregivers

Companioning the Bereaved: A Soulful Guide for Counselors & Caregivers

by Alan D Wolfelt PhD
ISBN-10:
1879651416
ISBN-13:
9781879651418
Pub. Date:
03/01/2005
Publisher:
Companion Press
ISBN-10:
1879651416
ISBN-13:
9781879651418
Pub. Date:
03/01/2005
Publisher:
Companion Press
Companioning the Bereaved: A Soulful Guide for Counselors & Caregivers

Companioning the Bereaved: A Soulful Guide for Counselors & Caregivers

by Alan D Wolfelt PhD
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Overview

Renowned author and educator Alan Wolfelt redefines the role of the grief counselor in this guide for caregivers. His new model for "companioning" the bereaved gives a viable alternative to the limitations of the medical establishment, encouraging counselors and other caregivers to aspire to a more compassionate philosophy. This approach argues that grief need no longer be defined, diagnosed, and treated as an illness but rather should be an acknowledgement of an event that forever changes a person's worldview. Through careful listening and observation, the caregiver learns to support mourners and help them help themselves heal.

Product Details

ISBN-13: 9781879651418
Publisher: Companion Press
Publication date: 03/01/2005
Edition description: 1ST
Pages: 176
Product dimensions: 6.00(w) x 9.00(h) x 0.90(d)

About the Author

Alan D. Wolfelt, PhD, is the author of Creating Meaningful Funeral Ceremonies, Healing the Bereaved Child, and Understanding Your Grief. He serves as director of the Center for Loss and Life Transition and is on the faculty at the University of Colorado. He writes the "Children and Grief" column for Bereavement Magazine. He lives in Fort Collins, Colorado.

Read an Excerpt

Companioning the Bereaved

A Soulful Guide for Caregivers


By Alan D. Wolfelt

Center for Loss and Life Transition

Copyright © 2006 Companion Press
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-879651-41-8



CHAPTER 1

Part One


A Soulful Philosophy of Grief Care: The Art of Companioning the Bereaved


"It's not surprising that as our culture advances in information and technology, we seem to become more inarticulate about matters of the heart. We quantify 'human behavior' and develop programs of therapy and treatment, and yet the procrustean trimming of the soul to fit our programs of science doesn't have much effect. We still encounter the soul briefly, as a set of problems, rather than as a creative and constructive source of life."

— Thomas Moore


Introduction: A Declaration of My Intent

At the very heart of grief lies an irreducible mystery. I have come to discover that grief is a dimension of life experience that cannot be approached through rational thought. Instead, it responds more appropriately to humbled souls. In this spirit, I invite you to open your heart to what follows.


My tenets of "companioning" the bereaved were written several years ago as I sat in a gazebo on the sacred grounds of the Center for Loss and Life Transition. Since that time of grace in my life, which encouraged me to try to express in words what I do when I "companion" people in grief, I've been honored that many people have encouraged me to teach more about these tenets. I've written the following words with a humbled heart and a desire to help people help others during time of grief and loss.


This particular book has been long in coming; however, for that I take great pride. Many of my colleagues and students have urged me to write this book for some time. Yet, I felt a need to wait, listen and learn before I could express in words the art of companioning people in grief. It was important to me that I write this book in a manner and tone congruent with the ideas I am trying to communicate. I found I had to wait for my thoughts to coalesce in ways that would allow me to teach about my beliefs and how I try to "be" in my effort to help others come out of the darkness of their grief and into the light of living until they die. I believe this waiting was a part of my own maturation process.


I am very honored that there is now an international network of thousands of people who have trained with me surrounding the companioning philosophy of caregiving to people in grief. Yet, there seems to be a place for this book in that many of my colleagues have either had to imagine, question, project, and, honestly, at times even judge what I do. In part this book is a "coming out of the closet" as a "responsible rebel."

Responsible Rebel: One who questions assumptive models surrounding grief and loss and challenges those very models. Rebels are not afraid to question established structures and forms. At the same time, rebels respect the rights of others to use different models of understanding, and provide leadership in ways that empower people rather than diminish them. So, if the contents of this book resonate with you, please join me in being a responsible rebel!


In sum, my deep hope is that this resource will serve as a source of encouragement and help to those who want to learn more about the art of companioning people in grief. My experience suggests that few helping situations are more challenging — or more rewarding — than the opportunity to assist people impacted by loss in their lives. Perhaps through deepening our human capacity to respond to each other in times of grief we can continue to enrich each moment of our living.


Why A "Soulful" Guide?

When people have come to me for support in grief, the soul is present. When they try as best they can to wrap words around their grief, trusting me with their vulnerability, I know we are meeting at a soul level. To look into the eyes of someone mourning the death of someone precious is to look into the window of the soul.

Their willingness to allow me to walk with and learn from them has been an education of the heart and soul. "Soul" is discovered in the quality of what I'm experiencing when I'm honored to be present to them. If my intent is anchored in truth and integrity, if they are discovering a reason to go on living (redefining their worldview and searching for meaning), then they are rich in soul, and so am I. Therefore, for me, companioning another human being in grief means giving attention to those experiences that give my life, and the lives of those I attempt to help, a richness and depth of meaning.

Soul really has to do with a sense of the heart being touched by feelings. An open heart that is grieving is a "well of reception;" it is moved entirely by what it has perceived. Soul also has to do with the overall journey of life as a story, as a representation of deep inner meaning. Soul is not a thing, but a dimension of experiencing life and living. I see soul as the primary essence of our true nature, our spirit self, or our life force.

Being soulful as it relates to companioning people in grief is, in part, to acknowledge a need for people to have "safe places" to authentically mourn. Then, in order to respond to that need, it is to go within yourself and nurture and develop your soul in ways that give expression to your compassion. My hope is that this book helps you do just that!


Grief is Not an Illness: Inappropriate Assumptions Surrounding Our Modern Understanding of Grief and Loss

As a teenager who had come to experience my own life losses, I set out to discover the principles that help bereaved people heal in grief. I hoped to communicate those principles to anyone interested in honoring my story. To my dismay, I discovered that the majority of caregiving models for grief counselors were intertwined with the medical model of mental health care.

For many caregivers, grief in contemporary society has been medicalized and perceived as if it is an illness that with proper assessment, diagnosis, and treatment can be cured. This paradigm dictates that we as caregivers, having studied and absorbed a body of knowledge and become experts, are responsible for "curing" our patients. How arrogant!

The language we use to describe the practice of grief support exposes our attitudes and beliefs about counseling as well as determines our practices. Because numerous historical roots of psychotherapy are deeply grounded in a medical model, because the medical model appears more scientific than other alternatives, and because the economics of practice are interfaced in a healthcare delivery system, the natural tendency has been to adopt medical model language.

As I explored the words used in counseling the bereaved, I was taken aback: symptoms of pathology; disorders; diagnosis; and treatments. In my own search to learn so I could teach, I found that these more clinical, medical model approaches have limitations that are profound and far-reaching.

I discovered that our modern understanding of grief all too often projects that for "successful" mourning to take place, the person must "disengage from the deceased" and, by all means "let go." We even have all sorts of books full of techniques on how to help others "let go" or reach "closure."

At bottom, I discovered that our current models desperately needed what we could refer to as a "supplement of the soul." It seemed glaringly obvious to me that as fellow travelers in the journey into grief, we needed more life-giving, hope-filled models that incorporated not only the mind and body, but the soul and the spirit! I found myself resonating more with the writings of people like Ram Das, Stephen Levine, Victor Frankl, James Hillman, Thomas Moore and Carl Jung.

Actually it was Carl Jung's writing that helped me understand that every psychological struggle is ultimately a matter of spirituality. In the end, as we as human beings mourn, we must discover meaning to go on living our tomorrows without the physical presence of someone we have loved. Death and grief are spiritual journeys of the heart and soul.

Yet, our modern Western culture's understanding of grief often urges mourners to deny any form of continued relationship with the person who died. For many mental health caregivers, the hallmark of so-called "pathology" has been rooted in terms of sustaining a relationship to the dead. In reality, the mourner actively shifts the relationship from one of presence to one of memory. Or, as the playwright Robert Anderson wisely noted, "Death ends a life; it does not end a relationship." In contrast, many other cultures throughout history have encouraged ongoing, interdependent relationships in some form after death. Beyond this recognition of a continued relationship of memory, most cultures provide bereaved people with rituals to encourage an appropriate relationship of memory, such as Mexico's "Day of the Dead."

Our modern understanding of grief all to often conveys that the end result of bereavement is a series of completed tasks, extinguished pain, and the establishment of new relationships. I discovered that many mental health caregivers, in attempting to make a science of grief, had compartmentalized complex emotions with neat clinical labels.


Our modern understanding of grief all too often uses a "recovery" or "resolution" definition to suggest a return to "normalcy." Recovery, as understood by some mourners and caregivers alike, is erroneously seen as an absolute, a perfect state of reestablishment. We seem to want to go around any so-called "negative" moods and emotions quickly and efficiently. Yet, it occurred to me that if our role as caregivers is to first observe the soul as it is, then we need to abolish what I call the "resolution wish."

Our modern understanding of grief for some is based on the model of crisis theory that purports that a person's life is in a state of homeostatic balance, then something comes along (like the death of someone loved) and knocks the person out of balance. Caregivers are taught intervention goals to reestablish the prior state of homeostasis and a return to "normal" functioning. There is only one major problem with this theory: it doesn't work. Why? Because a person's life is changed forever by the death of someone loved. We are transformed by grief and do not return to prior states of "normal" based on interventions by outside forces.


"Negative" Emotions

The emotions of grief are often referred to as being "negative," as if they are inherently bad emotions to experience. This judgment feeds our culture's attitude that these emotions should be denied or "overcome." In reality, these care-eliciting emotions are what alerts companions to the reality that the mourner has special needs that call for support and comfort. Emotions are not bad or good. They just are.


The Resolution Wish

We wish that grief would resolve. We wish that it was linear and finite. We wish that we could wake up one day and our painful thoughts and feelings would all be "over." Grief never resolves, however. While we can learn to reconcile ourselves to it, grief is transformative and life-changing

Our modern understanding of grief all too often "pathologizes" normal experiences. Traditional psychology has focused the majority of attention on the diagnosis and treatment of pathologies and in the quest for "fixes," little attention has been paid to the nature of emotional or spiritual health. As one author observed, "The exclusive focus on pathology that has dominated so much of our discipline results in a model of the human being lacking the positive features that make life worth living."


Our modern understanding of grief all too often privatizes grief as an isolated, individual experience. Mourning, by nature of its definition — "a shared social response to loss" — must be viewed in the broader context of social and family perspectives. In fact, the person often perceived as "not doing well" in grief is usually the one who is trying to get help for the family system.


In sum, I discovered in my twelve years of university-based training and in reading the available literature on grief counseling that our modern understanding of grief all too often lacks any appreciation for and attention to the spiritual, soul-based nature of the grief journey. As authors such as Frankl, Fromm, and Jung noted years ago (and Hillman and Moore more recently), academic psychology has been too interfaced with the natural sciences and laboratory methods of weighing, counting and objective reporting.


Some of us, often through no fault of our own, but perhaps by the contamination of our formal training, have overlooked the journey into grief as a soul-based journey. We need to think and reflect about grief care differently than we now do. Because while its mission in our society is certainly important, our current misunderstanding of its essence misinforms our capacity to reflect on it wisely.


This book seeks to undermine those practices that oppress grieving persons and families and provide interested people with food for reflective thought surrounding the importance of questioning the traditional medical model of mental health care. More important, the content presents an alternative model based on "companioning" versus "treating" one's fellow human beings in grief.


Critical self-observation would suggest that perhaps we rely too much on psychosocial, biological and psychodynamic constructs that we have been taught to "treat away," such as depression, anxiety, and loss of control. In our attempt to gain scientific credibility, we may have become our own worst enemies! In our attempt to be respected as part of established mental health care, we may be disrespecting the very people who need our compassionate care.


Without doubt, the grief journey requires contemplation and turning inward. In other words, it requires depression, anxiety and loss of control. It requires going to the wilderness. Quietness and emptiness invite the heart to observe signs of sacredness, to regain purpose, to rediscover love, to renew life! Searching for meaning, reasons to get one's feet out of bed, and understanding the pain of loss are not the domain of the medical model of bereavement care. Experience has taught me that it is the mysterious, spiritual dimension of grief that allows us to go on living until we, too, die.


Additional Influences Impacting the Care of Grievers

There are also a number of other cultural, technological and demographic trends that have converged in recent decades and have shaped our modern understanding of grief and grief care:

We live in the world's first death-free generation.

Many people now live into their 40s and 50s before they experience a close personal loss. Today two-thirds of all deaths in the U.S. each year happen to people 65 or older.


In the early 1900s, on the other hand, most children had been to many funerals by the age of ten. (In 1900 over half of all deaths in the U.S. each year were deaths of children 15 or younger.) Aging, illness and death were an everyday part of family life. While we certainly appreciate the medical advances that have helped lower the mortality rate and prolong lifespans, they are also distancing us from aging, illness, death and grief.

We live in a fast-paced culture.

Have you also noticed how we like many things to be fast in our culture? It seems that efficiency or speed is often placed above effectiveness. But grief isn't fast, and it's not possible to "get over it."

We're disconnected from each other.

For starters, many people have lost a sense of community. Not long ago, people shared their lives with those around them. Generation after generation, families lived in the same town or at least the same state. Neighbors visited on the front porch, gathered for meals and took care of each other's children. People knew each other. People cared about each other. Now, like no other time in history, many people feel alone and unconnected to groups.


One recent study found that 71 percent of Americans didn't know their neighbors. Adults and children alike live among strangers. The number of people who report they never spend time with their neighbors has doubled in only the last twenty years.


We have evolved from a country of primary relationships to one of secondary relationships. Primary relationships are ones in which people know each other in a variety of roles — as friends, neighbors, coworkers. Secondary relationships are ones in which people are merely acquaintances. We may sit next to someone at work, but often we don't know much about him — where he lives, if he has a family, what his hobbies are.


As we have connected to the internet, we have disconnected from each other. Our state-of-the-art technology has created a new kind of person, one who is plugged into machines instead of fellow human beings. Some of us talk more via e-mail than we do to our own family members.

We value self-reliance.

Have you noticed that the biggest section in bookstores these days is the self-help section? We live in an era of rugged individualism and independence. We reward people for "doing it on their own." How many of us grew up learning the North American motto, "If you want it done right, do it yourself"? Yet, when someone in your life dies, you must be interdependent and connected to the world around you if you are to heal. In short, rugged individualism and mourning don't mix well.

We have lost the symbolism of death.

Philippe Ariès, in his book The Hour of Our Death, identifies the symbols representing death in art and in literature, as well as in funeral and burial customs. He maintains, and I agree, that symbols of death are no longer prominent in contemporary North American culture, and that gone with them is a link that in previous generations provided meaning and a sense of continuity for the living.

In generations past, for example, the bereaved used to wear mourning clothes or armbands, often black, that symbolized their sorrow. In some subcultures, mourners also hung wreaths on the door to let others know that someone loved had died. Today we can't even tell who the bereaved are. For some, memorial flowers, both at the funeral and at the cemetery, are becoming another ousted symbol. Today we opt for the more practical but less spiritual monetary donation: "In lieu of flowers, please send contributions to ..."

Perhaps the ultimate symbol of death that we are tending more and more to forsake is the dead person's body. When viewed at the visitation or during the funeral service itself, the body encourages mourners to confront the reality and the finality of the death. Of course, opponents of viewing often describe it as unseemly, expensive, undignified and unnecessary. Yet, seeing and spending time with the body allows for last goodbyes and visual confirmation that someone loved is indeed dead. In generations past, the body often served as the very locus of mourning; the bereaved came to the dead person's home to view the body, pay their last respects and support the primary mourners. In fact, the body was often displayed for days before burial. Today, with our increasing reliance on closed caskets and direct cremation with no services, we are forgetting the importance of this tradition.


(Continues...)

Excerpted from Companioning the Bereaved by Alan D. Wolfelt. Copyright © 2006 Companion Press. Excerpted by permission of Center for Loss and Life Transition.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

Table of Contents

Contents

Title Page,
Copyright Page,
Dedication,
Dedication,
Part One - A Soulful Philosophy of Grief Care: The Art of Companioning the Bereaved,
Part Two - From Philosophy to Practice: Wisdom Teachings for Companioning,
A Final Word,
ALSO FROM COMPANION PRESS,

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