by Joanna Williams, psychotherapeutic counsellor specialising in grief and loss
Issue 2 When it’s ok not to feel ok
Issue 3 Relearning the world: the cycle of adaptation
Issue 5 What kind of griever are you?
Issue 6 Should we avoid avoidance?
Issue 7 Coming Around Again: the Regrief phenomenon
In this regular blog I’ll be touching on different aspects of the grief associated with sight loss, and how to take the best care of yourself, wherever you are on your sight loss journey.
Zoom sessions are held on the second and fourth Monday of the month.
The Best Medicine?
Last time, we discussed defence mechanisms and it’s fair to say that when going through grief, or any major source of distress, humour can be one of the most surprising but is one that’s commonly used.
We can probably all think of a time we’ve made a joke or found something funny at a seemingly inappropriate moment, and this is actually a really healthy response to stress (providing of course you’re not hurting or offending somebody else). There are a few things that happen physiologically when we laugh. First, you increase your intake of oxygen – good for the heart and brain. Laughter causes your muscles to relax, which in turn eases tension. We also release dopamine and serotonin, the brain’s happy hormones. Having a laugh with other people can increase these positive effects even further, as you gain that all-important sense of connection and community which is so great for wellbeing.
In a type of therapy called CFT (compassion-focused therapy), practitioners suggest that there are three emotional systems: threat (for self-protection), drive (for motivation), and soothing (for contentment and safety). Humour is a key mechanism for self-soothing, and dialling up the ‘soothing system’ helps to dial down the ‘threat system’, which brings with it negative emotions like fear and anger, and can be especially prevalent when grieving.
Sometimes, of course, it’s not easy to find the humour in a situation, especially one as serious as sight loss. It’s okay to acknowledge that that might not be where you are right now, but many people report that although there was a time they felt they might never smile, laugh, or enjoy life again, in time that did change (though they never would have believed it when they were at their low point). And even if you are having a really tough time, with laughter as therapy there is an element of ‘fake it until you make it’. Your subconscious mind notices your laughter and concludes that you’re happy and relaxed, causing those states to come about for real even if that’s not what you were initially feeling at all.
In our zoom call this week, Eyematter members talked about how beneficial it is to be among other visually impaired people with whom they can share experiences relating to sight loss that are absurd, embarrassing or funny. It might be laughing at aspects of the sighted world or at themselves, but either way it’s cathartic to be in a non-judgmental space where there is a sense that “it’s not just me”. Many participants had a funny story to share (plus a couple of jokes), and it struck me that to invite laughter, or even to laugh at yourself, requires a willingness to be vulnerable. Vulnerability, in turn, takes courage, but brings its own rewards.
If you are looking for ways to bring more humour into your life, try one of these:
- Revisit an old comedy show you enjoyed
- Chat with a friend who makes you laugh
- Smile more! (Remember, fake it to make it)
- Make time for fun activities, especially ones that require trying something new
- Try out ‘laughter yoga’
- Hang out with young children or pets
And of course, you could come along to one of our zoom calls! Although we discuss serious subjects relating to grief, we do a lot of smiling and laughing, too.
Hope to see you there, JW
Defence Mechanisms
Happy New Year! It’s great to be back with Eyematter after a little break. This week I’ve been thinking about grief and the ways that we protect ourselves from those feelings that are just too difficult to face. Namely, we develop defence mechanisms. It’s a perfectly normal human behaviour and it’s not new; Sigmund Freud was writing about the phenomenon over 100 years ago. However, maybe there are some ways you feel and behave around your sight loss that you hadn’t realised were defence mechanisms, and you’d like to understand it better. Read on!
Perhaps the most common defence mechanism, especially with any kind of grief, is denial. How many times have you said ‘I’m fine’ when that’s not really true? When things are bad, it might feel easier to bury your head in the sand and hope the problem goes away. We’re all guilty of wishful or ‘magical’ thinking at times. Now, it’s important to say that defence mechanisms aren’t inherently bad. In fact they can be really helpful – for a short time, anyway. But if denial is preventing you from asking for help, or from being honest with the people who really care about you, maybe it’s time to address it.
A couple of other common ways of wearing the defence mechanism armour are using projection and / or displacement. Projection is when you don’t recognise a problem in yourself but are quick to point it out in others. You might challenge them on their negativity, for example, as that feels easier than dealing with your own. With displacement, the difficult feeling (commonly anger) can’t be taken out on the real object of the feeling, so you redirect or displace it onto someone or something else.
Put simply:
Denial = I’m fine
Projection = I’m fine. You don’t seem fine.
Displacement = I’m fine about my sight loss, but I’m really angry with work / the TV remote / the dog.
In our most recent zoom, Eyematter members were, as always, really generous in sharing their experiences. Most people could relate to denial in particular, especially in the context of adjusting to sight loss. Often with loved ones there is a difficulty in admitting to a new vulnerability, especially if you have always been the leader or the strong one. We discussed how that crucial role you have in the family is actually still there; maybe you now just need help with one or two specific things. In addition, being a natural people pleaser can lead to a tendency to minimise your difficulties, in order not to inconvenience or upset those around you. In reality, the people who really care probably want to hear and want to help.
One example of a healthy defence mechanism is sublimation. This is when someone takes their difficult feelings and instead of burying them or directing them onto someone else, turns them into something positive. Often it involves creativity or helping others. This can range from a grieving person starting a charity for those in a similar situation, to someone coming out of a bad relationship and writing a book about it, or it might simply be helping yourself feel better by baking bread or going for a walk.
If denial, or another less than healthy defence mechanism, has become a habit for you, it’s important to try to form new habits. The first step is the awareness of what your brain is doing when it goes down these defensive paths. Be compassionate with your brain; it’s trying to help! Then take a deep breath, say ‘not today’, and offer it a different direction.
Until next time, good luck forging new paths, and take care, JW
Grief at Christmas
Christmas can typically be a tricky period for anyone grieving, and brings with it a set of expectations and emotions that many find overwhelming. It’s no different for those living with the grief of sight loss. There are lots of aspects that make the time of year difficult: there’s the expectation of almost constant frivolity and good cheer; additional time spent with friends and family or conversely, more time than usual spent alone; and a seemingly endless list of jobs and chores to be chalked off before the ‘big day’ arrives.
Pubs and shops are generally busier, which could make it harder to get around safely, and you may find you’re expected to socialise with people you don’t see often, which means having to ‘explain’ your sight loss and any changes that have occurred, which can be exhausting.
Especially where sight loss has occurred recently or gradually, there can be a strong element of mourning for the things you were previously able to do more easily at this time of year, for example decorating the tree or enjoying fireworks. It’s important to acknowledge those grief feelings and let yourself feel them. If you can talk about them with an understanding friend, so much the better. It’s also important, where possible, to remain flexible about how you spend the holiday season, especially if you’re not sure how you’re going to feel. Having time and space to retreat if you need it can really help your wellbeing. In terms of the to-do list, can you maybe drop some traditions (or jobs!) that are less important to you now, and minimise the pressure that way? Similarly, perhaps you can introduce new Christmas rituals that make the season special in a way that’s meaningful for you.
Big days generally are difficult in grief; anniversaries and milestone life events raise a memory of what used to be, or a sadness or even anger about what might have been different. At Christmas in particular, we’re surrounded by messages of perfection, from the perfect loving family to the perfect Christmas meal, decorations, party outfit, and on and on. This leads to that insidious word ‘should’, which came up in discussion in our recent Eyematter zoom meeting. You may hear yourself saying that you should fulfil a certain obligation because it’s Christmas, but ask yourself: who says? Where does the ‘should’ really come from – your own values, or someone else’s? Could it be a societal expectation that doesn’t actually meet your needs? If you could remove all the shoulds, how would you really like to spend Christmas?
Of course around this time, we naturally find ourselves reflecting on the year that has passed. Emerging from Christmas, a new year approaches and you might want to consider some things you want to achieve or engage in in 2025. In our Monday zoom group, it was lovely to hear members talk about putting their own needs first a little more, and moving forward in a positive way with a focus on what they can do rather than what they can’t. There was lots of commitment to more engagement, connection and self-care in 2025. Eyematter is a great place to find those things.
Whether and however you celebrate Christmas, I wish you all a peaceful and restorative winter holiday, and look forward to connecting again in the new year.
Take good care, JW
Coming Around Again: the Regrief phenomenon
Most people who experience loss of any kind come to appreciate that the feelings don’t arise in a linear or orderly way; and this week, I’d like to introduce the subject of regrief.
Regrief is the term given to grief that rears its head at different times of life, often without warning and sometimes even once you think you’ve ‘processed’ your grief or achieved closure or acceptance.
The phenomenon is often seen in people who suffer a bereavement as children: at the time of the loss, their own cognitive and emotional development only allows them to experience their grief in a particular way, a way that is appropriate to their stage of life. As they grow, they become more capable of understanding the loss, and may experience a fresh wave of grief that can feel every bit as raw as when the loss first occurred. In addition, life milestones such as significant birthdays, big events like weddings, house moves, births, and yes, further losses, can trigger a reappearance of old feelings – sometimes known as the unwelcome resurgence of the ‘grief monster’.
In the context of sight loss, a common theme that comes up in our Eyematter zoom group is that the associated grief, and healing from the grief, is a work in progress – and the work is never fully done. Adults go through phases of psychological development just as children do, so it’s not unusual to find that a feeling you were previously unable to sit with becomes more manageable, or that an emotional injury you thought you had processed suddenly feels sharp and painful again.
In Monday’s session, members shared the ways in which unexpected events or conversations triggered a reappearance of their grief. In the aftermath of a fall, one person noticed all the old limiting beliefs and negative self-talk about their sight loss once again clamouring to be heard. Others talked about how the thoughtless words and actions of friends, in most cases not intended to cause upset, led to feelings of anger or deep hurt. Having to repeatedly re-explain the impact of sight loss can also cause the grief feelings to resurface, as can changes in eyesight, requiring continual adjustment.
The conclusion we reached was that, although you may not exactly want to welcome the grief monster, attempting to push it away is unlikely to be effective. Perhaps contrary to instinct, regrief is best met with kindness. Taking some time to acknowledge the feelings, while also recognising that this is part of a natural ebb and flow rather than a backwards move, will allow you to heal and go forward into a gentler phase more quickly. Just as you are always going to be affected by your sight loss, so the grief around it will always be present, to a greater or lesser degree. Those ‘regrief’ days when you feel suddenly worse are a reminder that everything changes. That means there will be another day when you feel different again, and maybe even, just as suddenly, a little better.
Wishing you better days, and do take care, until next time,
JW
Should we avoid avoidance?
I have been thinking in more depth this week about the tendency to avoid painful feelings, rather than sit with them, why we do this and whether it’s helpful. The first thing to note is that avoidance is a normal human behaviour – we are biologically programmed to avoid or minimise painful experiences or danger to self.
At certain times and in small doses it can be useful. After any loss, there are usually things to do and it would be impossible to function if you were constantly paying attention to your grief; what’s more, just giving yourself a break emotionally is sometimes necessary to build up resilience. There’s no harm in using distractions for comfort.
With sight loss-related grief especially, avoidance is understandable: anything to do with your grief carries reminders of what was lost and the potential for hurt. Perhaps there are places and even people you avoid, as it’s just too hard to ‘go back there’. Perhaps there are activities you used to do that you now can’t, or would need to figure out a whole new method for, and it’s just too daunting. Perhaps you’re using emotional avoidance, resisting staying with your difficult feelings because it simply hurts too much.
While this strategy may work for a while, and may in fact be what you need to do for your own wellbeing, too much avoidance carries risks. You could be closing yourself off from the opportunity for human connection and personal growth, and you may be missing out on improvements that could make day-to-day life easier.
How do you know if your avoidance has reached unhealthy levels? Signs of chronic avoidance include isolation and withdrawal; being hyper busy and active; and feeling numb or disconnected.
In our most recent zoom meeting, the topic of avoidance resonated with many Eye Matter members. Interestingly some people said they only realised later the extent to which they had been avoiding; while others are very aware of it and in some cases it was happening for practical reasons, eg not making time for a precious hobby simply because everything else takes so much longer these days.
So what is the answer? First of all, most people who were able to find the courage to face the thing they had been avoiding reaped benefits. Invariably they wished they had done it sooner. But give yourself a break: you didn’t do it before, because you weren’t ready then. Maybe now you are, or maybe soon you will be, and that’s okay. Small doses may also be key. I often advise bereavement clients to ‘make time for’ their grief; it may seem counterintuitive at first, especially when grief is something that is by its nature hard to control and tends to hit you in waves at the most unexpected times. But making a little window in the week when you commit to actually sitting with your feelings, reflecting, thinking, allowing yourself to connect with yourself, even for a few minutes, can be really helpful.
The thing about facing into something difficult is that each time you do it you build resilience, and each subsequent time gets a little easier. That goes for facing emotions too. Avoidance never gives you the chance to build up that strength. The first step is usually hardest, though, so remember: go at your pace and be gentle with your expectations of yourself.
Until next time,
JW
What kind of griever are you?
We can probably all accept that while loss is a universal human experience, in practice every individual grieves somewhat differently. But you may not have come across the concepts of instrumental grief and its opposite, intuitive grief.
In the mid-1990s, psychologists Kenneth Doka and Terry Martin undertook research to test the hypothesis that there were ‘male’ and ‘female’ ways to experience grief. The theory was that women tend to grieve in a more traditionally demonstrative way, for example by crying and sharing their emotions, whereas men are more likely to get on with practical matters and keep their feelings hidden. Through the course of the research, Doka and Martin found that what they termed ‘instrumental and intuitive grief’ were not, in fact, gendered, and that they existed on a spectrum, with most people oscillating or showing a blend of the two, even if they had a preference for one style over the other.
In our fortnightly zoom, participants considered whether, when it comes to living with their sight loss and processing the associated grief, they have tended to be more intuitive or instrumental, or somewhere in between. Typically, intuitive grievers are more likely to seek and accept help such as therapy or support groups, whereas instrumental grievers might consider their grief as a problem to be solved through tasks and activities. In addition, while they are more likely to keep their sadness hidden, their feelings are more likely to be expressed as anger (we have chatted before in the group about how anger usually masks some other emotion). Most people felt they could relate to elements of both ‘styles’ of grieving and shared that they have moved between the two at different points in their journey.
As always, I was amazed by the generosity of Eyematter members sharing their experiences. A couple of members who have siblings with the same eye condition as themselves talked about how their sibling has not been willing to talk about it or accept support and advice, recognising that that might be because their sibling was at a different place on the intuitive-instrumental continuum. Others expressed concern that maybe they had been ‘hiding’ in the instrumental place, keeping busy and active as a tactic for avoiding difficult feelings relating to their sight loss, and perhaps it would have been better to let themselves feel and express the grief sooner. However, they were reassured that they were doing their best at the time, with the resources that they had. ‘I wasn’t ready then’ was expressed by more than one participant. Accepting this is an act of kindness to yourself.
Remember that grief is not linear or straightforward, and however you feel it, there is no right or wrong way. There is only your way. Take care, until next time.
JW
The Power of Labels
When experiencing loss, one of the processes to go through is working out, ‘Who am I?’ in this new world. Just as a newly bereaved person who has lost a partner finds themselves suddenly called ‘a widow’, and has to figure out what that means to them, you may have been given labels relating to your loss, not all of which will have been welcome. Perhaps you acquired the label ‘blind’ or ‘visually impaired’ or ‘severely sight impaired’ suddenly, or over time, or perhaps there has been a label you have carried since birth.
Labels are not always unhelpful, but they can have a huge impact on how we think and behave, on how we are treated, and even on how successful or otherwise we might be in life. The so-called ‘Pygmalion’ and ‘Golem’ effects were first tested in education settings, where it was found that where the teacher had high expectations of a student, the student rose to that expectation; conversely where the expectation was low, the student’s performance dropped. This is highly relevant to anyone living with a disability, as the ‘soft bigotry of low expectations’ (a phrase coined by George W Bush’s government in the 2000s) in a society that undervalues anyone presenting with a difference leads to an internal narrative of low self-worth, and subsequently limited achievement.
In our recent zoom meeting, Eye Matter members shared some of the labels they have been given over the years, how they have been helpful or otherwise, and how in some cases they have achieved ownership of the label ‘blind’ in a way that felt empowering. Others felt that ‘blind’ was not a label they were able to accept, and that it felt like a loss of their old identity, and an indicator of everything they could no longer do, which was still too painful to acknowledge.
Most were in agreement, however, that whatever the label, it only represents a small part of who they are as a complex and whole individual.
We discussed how the messages we give to ourselves, as well as those we hear from others and society at large, can have a massive effect, for better or worse. From the small but cheerful impact of someone calling you ‘lovely’, to the subtle shift in self-perception from ‘I am trying to survive’ to the more accurate ‘I am surviving’, language really matters.
You can choose which labels to adopt and which to reject. However, this can be very difficult, especially when we hear an unhelpful label repeated, perhaps over many years. One way to ‘balance out’ the negative effects of limiting labels is to practise daily affirmations. Affirmations are positive statements about yourself which, when repeated regularly, form new neural pathways in the brain which improve your self-image and confidence. They are best expressed in the present tense (for example ‘I am capable and confident’ rather than ‘I would like to be’ or ‘I will be’) and out loud, so that your brain hears and absorbs the message.
You are a survivor. Be your own champion – emphasise the positive – and take care, until next time.
JW
Relearning the world: the cycle of adaptation
This week’s theme is adaptation, a common but perhaps not widely talked about stage of grief. Someone who has experienced a loss must of course spend time reflecting on what was lost, but will also come to a point where they can focus on what remains and on making necessary adjustments to this ‘new world’ – a world where nothing is the same as it was.
In the context of sight loss, these adjustments might fall into three main categories:
- Practical – adapting to doing everything differently than before; perhaps embracing new technologies or accepting outside help.
- Emotional – this may even include a new sense of self; figuring out ‘who am I?’ in this new world.
- Social – adapting to others’ changing perceptions of you and the challenges of interacting socially.
It was a theme which encouraged a lot of sharing at this week’s zoom meeting where, as always, the contributions of all members were hugely valuable. From the practical point of view, there was widespread consensus that touch typing, white cane training and learning to use the iPhone were all game changers, acting as conduits to greater opportunities and experience.
Emotionally speaking, especially where sight loss is gradual and requires almost constant adaptation, there was recognition in the group that this can be exhausting. One member shared how, on diagnosis of his sight condition, he was advised that the experience would be a kind of bereavement. And just as with a bereavement, emotions don’t come up in a predictable, linear way. You may feel you are cycling between hope and despair, confusion and clarity, from one day to the next, and this is quite normal. This is part of the process of ‘relearning the world’.
We often hear talk of ‘acceptance’ as the end goal when it comes to loss but perhaps it is more realistic, and kinder to ourselves, to think of this grief journey as a gradual and ongoing process of adaptation, rather than a road to full acceptance, which is a concept that can seem daunting or even impossible for many.
Adaptation requires resilience – that alchemical blend of strength and flexibility. On more difficult days, resilience can be elusive, but there are ways to cultivate it.
Think about your best, most resilient self, and consider three questions: “Where am I when I am at my most resilient?” Place can have an enormous impact on wellbeing. Do you feel strongest at home, or out in nature, for example? “Who am I with when I am most resilient?” Spend time with those people who support and empower you, not the ‘mood hoovers’ who drain your energy. Finally, “What am I doing when I am most resilient?” Collate a personal list of the activities that help you feel at your best, and ideally that help you expel any negative or draining emotions. For many people this includes regular exercise, talking with others who understand your situation, and doing something creative.
Stay kind to yourselves and take care, until next time.
JW
When it’s ok not to feel ok
This week I’m reflecting on depression, or low mood, as a feature of grief.
After a loss of any kind, depression is perhaps the response we most expect: a persistent state of being which is characterised by despondency, perhaps tearfulness, and sadness that can often feel overwhelming. Very often this sadness is seen as a problem to be fixed, and while it can be of course highly distressing, in fact it is a natural response to loss or trauma.
Some situational depression, or low mood, can of course lift once time passes or the situation changes; it’s usually a bit more complex when it’s related to sight loss.
Just as with a bereavement, because the change is irreversible, the chances are the spells of low mood may stay around long term, perhaps even ambushing you at unexpected times, although hopefully they may become less frequent and / or intense as you learn coping strategies.
In our recent zoom session, participants shared their individual experiences of low mood. For some people, depression, anxiety, or other mental health struggles were sadly features of their life before sight loss; for others, the onset of visual impairment either prompted or exacerbated the experience of low mood. Some group members found it took years or even decades to turn a corner, in one case described as getting ‘fed up of being fed up’.
We found that acknowledgement is key, followed by self-compassion. This is in stark contrast to common responses to depression like avoidance, denial, or even shame. In practice this manifests in our internal narrative. So instead of hearing yourself think, ‘I’m ok, there’s nothing wrong with me,’ ‘If I ignore these feelings, they’ll go away,’ or even, ‘I shouldn’t be feeling like this,’ try telling yourself the following:
‘What I’ve experienced has been really difficult / traumatic for me.’
‘It’s natural to feel really sad about everything I’ve lost.’
‘It’s ok not to feel ok.’
While there’s a level of relief that comes with acknowledging your pain in this way, naturally nobody wants to sit in that pain long-term. So what helps?
For some people, talking therapy or even medication may ease the symptoms of depression; if you’ve suffered persistent low mood or a sense of hopelessness for two weeks or more, it is definitely worth checking in with your GP.
However, in very many cases, engaging in things that (a) combat the loneliness that comes with depression and (b) enhance your sense of identity and individuality, can provide pockets of mood-boosting enjoyment that work to offset the down days.
Examples include seeking opportunities for social connection; when mixing with sighted people, this might involve educating others regarding your needs and doing a bit of ‘prep’ ahead of events – even though this can feel exhausting, it can help ease social anxiety and enhance your enjoyment in the long run. Being part of a charity like Eye Matter obviously brings with it a huge sense of community and belonging, sharing experiences with others who have greater empathy for your situation.
Any activity that enhances your sense of yourself as an individual is also key to lifting your mood. This is quite simply about doing things that bring you joy, satisfaction, and empowerment, from having your nails done, to creating something, to discovering new apps that help you get around and explore the world safely and independently.
I hope this reassures you that you’re not alone, and that there are ways to move through and out of the fog of grief-related depression. Take care, until next time.
JW
Let’s get physical!
This week I have been thinking about the physical manifestation of grief, that is to say, what happens to us in our bodies when we experience loss of any kind and its associated trauma.
We often think of physical and mental health as being separate, when of course they are not only connected, but inseparable parts of the whole. When we are suffering emotionally, it tends to present in some part of our body, and of course when we are physically unwell it can cause huge mental distress.
In my experience people who are going through grief find themselves with a raft of physical symptoms, not all of which they immediately attribute to their loss. When we think of grief we might commonly think of things like crying and low mood. Perhaps we think of emotions like anger or denial.
Whilst all of these may be present, there might also be physical signs such as extreme tiredness; loss of appetite; aches and pains; muscle tension; racing heart or tightness in the chest; stomach upsets.
A lot of these feelings are familiar to anyone who suffers with anxiety. Anxiety and grief are closely linked. CS Lewis famously wrote, ‘No-one ever told me that grief felt so like fear…the same fluttering in the stomach, the same restlessness, the yawning’.
In the case of living with sight loss, your practical fears may of course be well-founded, whether around day-to-day safety or around the questions posed by an uncertain future. Nevertheless, the fearfulness itself can become its own problem if ignored.
Recognising and acknowledging what is going on in your body is the first step to easing the discomfort. (Of course, any unexplained persistent physical symptoms you are concerned about should be investigated by a physician. We know that stress can affect the immune system and leave you more vulnerable to illness.)
In our zoom sessions, which we have been holding twice monthly since April, Eye Matter members discuss the topic at hand and generously share their own experiences, to help and reassure one another. This week, in our eighth meeting, more than one member shared how the loss of sight over a long period had required repeated adjustments, practically and emotionally, and that this constant state of vigilance was exhausting. They emphasised how it was important to acknowledge that what they were feeling was in fact grief and that it was okay to have those feelings.
Another member shared how much the practice of yoga had helped them, particularly when it comes to breathing. Mastering slow, controlled breathing can be so useful in terms of overcoming the physical feelings of panic such as held breath and thumping heart. Others discussed how regular practice, including at times you are not in distress, creates ‘muscle memory’ so that you have those calming breathing skills when you most need them. Psychologically too, noticing that your breathing slows simply because you are focusing on it creates good evidence that it is possible to gain control of your body’s physical responses to stress and fear. This builds confidence and a better mind-body connection.
As always, ‘what works’ is as unique as each individual, and sometimes requires trial and error. However, the most common tips for remaining healthy in body and mind are fresh air, gentle exercise, any activity that occupies the hands and / or brain, laughter, talking with a friend or therapist, and getting regular, high-quality rest.
I hope that you can achieve at least some of these, and take care until we meet again.
JW