During my mid-30s, I entered nearly a decade of unanticipated single parenthood, navigating “complicated" grief that developed after my spouse’s brain-cancer diagnosis. My husband required immediate surgery after developing startling symptoms, and the procedure caused brain damage. Suddenly he lacked impulse control, displayed a not-seen-before temper, was paranoid, and had memory lapses. The once-loving husband and father became an angry, paranoid man who refused to help with anything and regularly scared our three young children with his erratic behavior and threats of violence. I had very little time to prepare for the new casualties of my life, especially as I went from being a full-time mom with a part-time job to our family’s primary breadwinner. Compassionate social workers assisted our family during this period. Social workers’ positive intervention provided access to community resources that improved the reality of our new circumstances. But over time, my husband’s behavior worsened, and it became evident that a “normal” relationship was unattainable. Finally, the authorities forced him to move out…but then our home went into foreclosure. Determined not to uproot my children, I was regularly on the phone to find legal help or negotiate a payment plan. I was grateful for the four attorneys who volunteered to represent me; they helped us stay in our home for more than a year. When the time came to move out, I found a small apartment in a neighborhood close enough for my children to keep friendships and walk to school. At last we were safe and able to start over. Our new home was free from danger and became a place of refuge after our busy days apart. It served as a quiet location where we could de-escalate the stress and heal after so many years of turmoil. My children and I began to pick up the pieces of our lives and look towards a better future. While I am now on “the other side” of bereavement, I have a heart for those who struggle silently yet need help desperately – especially individuals with complicated grief. I recently completed a 25-week course on counseling so that I could be a better support to family members, friends, and coworkers. While expanding my skills in interviewing and listening, I also realized how much I enjoy giving back in this way. I decided employment as a licensed clinical social worker would be very satisfying. Given my own experience with complicated grief, I understand the needs of future clients and can anticipate appropriately and carry out compassionately what I learned in the classroom. After completing my degree in social work (MSW) at the University of Southern California, I hope to work as part of a team in a hospital setting to help parents who are facing a loss or the consequences of a serious medical situation, provide resources and support to patients and families coming to terms with a cancer diagnosis, or assist individuals in dealing with trauma after a misfortune or crime. My desire is to assist individuals as they navigate their emotional, psychological, and social experiences throughout the grieving process. I hope to make a positive impact with my future degree.

During my mid-30s, I entered nearly a decade of unanticipated single parenthood, navigating “complicated" grief that developed after my spouse’s brain-cancer diagnosis. Our dog, Olivia, played a special part in helping our family cope with this devastating news. My husband required immediate surgery after developing startling symptoms, and the procedure caused brain damage. Suddenly he lacked impulse control, displayed a not-seen-before temper, was paranoid, and had memory lapses. The once-loving husband and father became an angry, paranoid man who refused to help with anything and regularly scared our three young children with his erratic behavior and threats of violence. The only peace he seemed to find was when he spent time with our gentle basset hound. She was consistently undemanding and unconditionally loving. A constant companion, many evenings I would come home from work and find our long, droopy dog curled up next to my husband, who was coping with his “new normal” - overwhelming fatigue. Over time, my husband’s behavior worsened, and it became evident that a “normal” relationship was unattainable. Olivia came to the rescue again and was a source of comfort to our three children who missed their father, despite his new personality. Olivia – a mother herself – filled in as a parent, as my husband became less able to parent. She regularly made rounds through the house to check on each child, was available at all times for hugs and snuggles, and patently endured long, one-sided conversations with “her” kids. She had a great sense of humor and would sometimes run down the street looking over her shoulder to see who was trying to catch up. Olivia eventually passed away from her own brain tumor, but she still has a special place in each of our hearts. She played a role in helping each family member make strides in accepting loss and fostering an attitude of resilience. She was an amazing, if unexpected, therapist.

During my mid-30s, I entered nearly a decade of unanticipated single parenthood, navigating “complicated" grief that developed after my spouse’s brain-cancer diagnosis. He required an immediate surgery after developing startling symptoms, and the procedure caused brain damage. Suddenly he lacked impulse control, displayed a not-seen-before temper, was paranoid, and had memory lapses. The once-loving husband and father became an angry, paranoid man who refused to help with anything and regularly scared our three young children with his erratic behavior and threats of violence. It became evident that a “normal” relationship going forward was unattainable. Eventually, social services ordered him out of our home. Soon after, our children and I were forced to move because I could no longer comfortably pay the mortgage on my salary alone. I found a small apartment close enough for my children to keep friendships and walk to their schools. At last we were safe and able to start over—a process aided by social workers, who regularly intervened to ensure access to community resources and prevent the children’s father from disrupting their lives. I had very little time to prepare for these casualties. Through many lunch-hour counseling sessions, I made strides in accepting my losses. Resolution of my complicated grief required acknowledgment of my anger, but also brought about positive changes in attitude. I credit social workers for helping me become a better person. They regularly demonstrated professionalism and compassion, which put me at ease. In addition to these practical measures, the most important thing the social workers did was to foster an attitude of resilience in each family member. Eventually I could enjoy my children as they launched into adolescence and young adulthood, and today, many years later, I relish my children’s successes. I know that I am finally on “the other side” of bereavement and have a heart for those who struggle silently. Similar to the social workers who helped me want to become an “agent of change,” once I receive my master’s in social work from the University of Southern California, my desire is to assist individuals as they navigate their emotional, psychological, and social experiences throughout the grieving process. I hope to work on a hospital team, helping families deal with the challenges that I once faced, and assist individuals in finding their own pathways to resilience.

Giving Back After Personal Loss Everyone deals with bereavement at some point during their life. My desire is to assist individuals as they navigate emotional, psychological, and social experiences throughout the grieving process. I want to make an impact by providing a convenient, educational, and supportive setting where bereaved individuals feel encouraged and have a new-found resistance, as they move towards normalcy again. I am a senior member of a community support group for women. I joined this group a decade ago, after my spouse was diagnosed with brain cancer. The husband and father we knew had “died,” despite still being alive; after two surgeries and radiation treatment, he lacked impulse control, displayed a previously unseen temper, and was paranoid. Social workers also assisted our family during this time. I had little opportunity to prepare for the casualties of my life, especially as I went from being a full-time mom with a part-time job to our family’s primary breadwinner. Social workers guided us to community resources that improved the reality of our new circumstances. While I am now on “the other side” of grief, I have a heart for those struggling silently yet needing help desperately—especially individuals with complicated grief. I recently completed a course on counseling so that I could be a better support to group members. The course revealed an interest in giving back in this way. I decided working as a licensed clinical social worker would be very satisfying. Today, I continue to support members of my group. Although I do not solve problems, I comfort, offer insight, and celebrate successes or positive outcomes. Through regular phone, email, or text communication, I help strategize, encourage necessary life changes, and provide a safe place for them to cry, vent, and express anger. After completing my degree in social work (MSW), I hope to work as part of a team that helps people in difficult circumstances: parents dealing with the loss of a child or the consequences of a serious medical situation, patients coming to terms with a cancer diagnosis, or individuals dealing with trauma after an accident or crime. As someone who has dealt with complicated grief, I want to help by providing therapeutic exercises and teaching individuals how to manage future holidays, anniversaries, and emotional milestone days.

From “Complicated Grief” to Family Renewal: A Story of Resilience Everyone deals with bereavement. But how long will the journey take and how will life look on the other side? I had to face these questions in my mid-30s, when I entered nearly a decade as a single parent navigating “complicated grief” surrounding my spouse’s brain-cancer diagnosis. Despite multiple surgeries, it quickly became evident he would never return to “normal.” Nor would our relationship. The man I married had “died” despite still being alive and part of my family—and not in a good way. The loving husband and father became an angry, paranoid man who refused to help with anything, even though we were short of money, and who regularly scared our three young children with his erratic behavior and threats of violence. Finally, the authorities forced him to move out…but then our home went into foreclosure. Determined not to uproot my children, I was on the phone almost daily to find legal help or negotiate a payment plan. I was grateful for the four attorneys who volunteered to represent me; they helped us stay in our home for more than a year. When we finally had to move in 2014, I found a small apartment in a nice neighborhood, close enough for my children to keep friendships and walk to school. At last we were safe and able to start over—a process aided by our social workers, who regularly intervened to ensure access to community resources and prevent the children’s father from disrupting their lives. In addition to these practical measures, the most important thing the social workers did for us was to foster an attitude of resilience in all three children. While in college, my oldest child, Abby, re-founded a campus chapter for a national organization that supports the children of cancer patients. This group had helped her and her brothers. My middle child, Jake, went directly into the workforce after high school and become Virginia’s youngest realtor at age 18. He now has his own realty group and recently made a sizeable donation to a local women’s organization that had supported me. My youngest, Will, now a junior in high school, missed out on knowing his “pre-cancer dad” but has become resilient through his passion for lacrosse. A member of the high school’s varsity team, he shows sensitivity to the needs of teammates in single-parent households, whether they need to get a ride or borrow equipment. As I relish my children’s success, I know that I am finally on “the other side” of bereavement, while still having a heart for those who struggle silently. Once I receive my master’s in social work from the University of Southern California, I hope to work on a hospital team helping families manage the challenges that I once faced. I hope to be an “agent of change” like the social workers who helped me, guiding others moving through grief. By providing therapeutic methods and resources such as books, websites, social media, and mindfulness events, I will share methods leading to resistance and a return to normalcy after loss.