LIVING WITH GRIEF AND LOSS

Good Grief

Is there such a thing? We revere stoicism in this country. We admire people’s abilities to hold it all together after the unspeakable has happened. “They’re so strong,” we say with awe. “How do they do that?” we say to ourselves.

It’s a wonder, isn’t it?

What if we aren’t coping well – if we are mad with grief, drowning in it and barely getting by – how do we feel about ourselves then? What if no matter what we do, we can’t keep it in? We can’t get past it, and we don’t want to. What do we do then?

Let’s face it. We’re not good at grief.

Grief is personal. Grief is complex.

Losing someone we love can feel unbearable. The searing pain that leaves you breathless. The bodily pain of it, the ache, the relentless unpredictability. Just when you think you’ve made some headway, it hits you like a rogue wave you didn’t see coming. You come up disoriented and gasping for air.

Everyone else’s lives seem to keep going while yours is stuck skipping over the same three beats. Loved ones do their best, they check on you for a while, they make meals, they offer support.

Usually, though, this support fades. People think you should be feeling better by now. You should be moving on. You should be getting out, socializing, making friends, taking up a new sport or craft – as if learning crochet or mahjong will somehow take the grief away.

Except what if you can’t? And who says so anyway?

If you are grieving the loss of a loved one, this feels awful. It makes you shake inside. It makes you not want to talk to anyone. It makes you want to hold it all inside, where it’s safe.

And this works for a while. Until it doesn’t.

Grief needs a voice, it needs to be heard. Locked away, it starts to cause problems, eroding your insides. It will find ways to get out that are confusing and often harmful to you, like sudden rages – numbing behaviors like addiction, sleeping, isolating and over-eating – acting-out behaviors, like drinking too much or getting in fights with loved ones and strangers.

Your grief is safe with me.

What if I told you that you don’t have to do anything different, that what you are doing now is just right? That your grief is your grief, and it’s unlike anyone else’s? That you are invited to share the many faces of your grief with me and that I will never run out of time or care or energy to hear them? Your words and feelings matter to me.

Is there anything good about grief?

Lots. It tells us how much we love and how hard it feels to live without our loved ones. It communicates that life will never be the same without their presence. If we love, we grieve; if we love fiercely and deeply, we grieve fiercely and deeply. Grief tells us how much someone matters to us. Grief matters.

Healing our grief is possible.

If we make room for our grief, to be felt and heard and honored, an amazing thing happens: we heal.

Grief does change over time, not in any uniform way. It shifts and finds new space in our bodies where it isn’t so acutely painful. Room opens for other feelings, including love, joy, and hope.

Let me help support you in your grief journey. Let’s honor your loss in the way you need to. Let’s do this together. Go ahead and reach out. I’m here to help you get on the path toward healing.