 Harper Audio presents 13 Things Mentally Strong People Don't Do. Take back your power, embrace change, face your fears, and train your brain for happiness and success by Amy Moran. This is the author. Introduction. When I was 23, my mother died suddenly from a brain aneurysm. She'd always been a healthy, hard-working, vibrant woman who had loved life right up until her last minute on Earth. In fact, I saw her the night before she died. We met at an auditorium to watch a high school basketball tournament. She was laughing, talking, and enjoying life like she always did. But just 24 hours later, she was gone. The loss of my mother affected me deeply. I couldn't imagine going through the rest of my life without her advice, laughter, or love. At the time, I was working as a therapist at a community mental health center, and I took a few weeks off to privately deal with my grief. I knew I couldn't be effective at helping other people unless I was able to productively deal with my own feelings. Becoming used to a life that no longer included my mother was a process. It wasn't easy, but I worked hard to get myself back on my feet. From my training as a therapist, I knew that time doesn't heal anything. It's how we deal with that time that determines the speed at which we heal. I understood that grief was a necessary process that would eventually alleviate my pain, so I allowed myself to feel sad, to get angry, and to fully accept what I truly lost when my mother passed away. It wasn't just that I missed her. It was also the painful realization that she would never be there again during the important events in my life and that she would never experience the things she'd look forward to, like retire from her job and become a grandmother. With supportive friends and family and my faith in God, I found a sense of peace and as life went on, I was able to remember my mother with a smile rather than pangs of sadness. A few years later, as we approached the third anniversary of my mother's death, my husband Lincoln and I discussed how to best honor her memory that weekend. Friends had invited us to watch a basketball game on Saturday evening. Coincidentally, the game was being played at the same auditorium where we'd last seen my mother. Lincoln and I talked about what it would be like to go back to that place where we'd seen her, just three years ago, on the night before she passed away. We decided it would be a wonderful way to celebrate her life. After all, my memories of her that night were very good. We'd laughed, had a chance to talk about all kinds of things, and had an all-around great evening. My mother had even predicted my sister would get married to her boyfriend at the time, and a few years later, that prediction came true. So Lincoln and I returned to the auditorium and we enjoyed spending time with our friends. We knew it was what my mother would have wanted. It felt nice to go back and feel okay about being there. But just as I took a sigh of relief about my progress in dealing with my mother's death, my entire life was once again turned upside down. After returning home from the basketball game, Lincoln complained of back pain. He'd broken several vertebrae in a car accident a few years prior, so back pain wasn't unusual for him, but just a few minutes later, he collapsed. I called for paramedics and they arrived within minutes and transported him to the hospital. I called his mother and his family met me in the emergency room. I had no idea what could possibly be wrong with him. After a few minutes in the emergency room waiting area, we were called into a private room. Before the doctor even said a word, I knew what he was going to say. Lincoln had passed away. He'd had a heart attack. On the same weekend that we honored the three-year anniversary of my mother's death, I now found myself a widow. It just didn't make any sense. Lincoln was only 26 and he didn't have any history of heart problems. He could be here one minute and go on the next. I was still adjusting to life without my mother and now I'd have to learn how to deal with life without Lincoln. I couldn't imagine how I would get through this. Dealing with the death of a spouse is such a surreal experience. There were so many choices to be made at a time when I really wasn't in any shape to decide anything. Within a matter of hours, I had to start making decisions about everything from the funeral arrangements to the wording of the obituary. There wasn't any time to let the reality of this situation really sink in. It was completely overwhelming. I was fortunate to have many people in my life who supported me. A journey through grief is an individual process, but loving friends and family certainly helped. There were times when it seemed to get a little easier and times when it would get worse. Just when I'd think I was getting better, I'd turn another corner to find overwhelming sadness waiting for me. Grief is an emotionally, mentally, and f- Sample complete. Ready to continue?