I’m convinced that losing someone you love is the hardest thing we go through in life. The grief that comes is the price we pay for loving them.
I’m also beginning to believe that while grief sucks, your life doesn’t have to. That there are tools and support out there that are effective and useful, most of us just haven’t been taught them.
In this series, I explore the current tools, books, and support for grief. Some of them worked for me and some didn’t. I hope you find something helpful here and know you aren’t alone. Most of us weren’t taught how to process grief in a helpful healthy way. I’m right here with you.
- Please Note -
I’m not a licensed medical professional, this post is for educational and entertainment purposes only. It is not meant to take the place of diagnosis and treatment by a qualified medical practitioner or therapist. All opinions are my own. You may or may not get the same results as me. No expressed or implied guarantee of the effects of the use of the recommendations can be given or liability taken.
I’m on a fun quest to relate differently to the massive amount of grief I carry with me. After losing all of my important family members, I never recovered in a way that let me re-engage with life. I’ve worked with therapists and coaches, changed my diet and exercise, took St. John’s wort and saffron, stayed in bed, made myself get out of bed, read the books, did the workbooks, and even bought a grief coloring book. I’ve cried, felt it, talked about it, kept it inside, ran from it, tried to cheer it up, went to Disney World, distracted myself. And here I am, several years later still dragging it along. It shades my joyful moments and burdens my hard moments. It’s always with me.
Lately, I’ve stopped dragging and turned toward it. Not to cry or scream at it, but to ask this part of me what it needs and support myself. The grief appeared as a young version of me who is crying for her cherished grandparents, who were EVERYTHING to her. She said she didn’t want cookies, or tv shows, or trips to the beach or Disney. She didn’t want toys or games or her favorite foods. She didn’t want to be cheered up or distracted. She just wanted her grandparents back.
I had to sit with that. There was nothing else I could do. What’s lost can’t be restored or found or replaced. It is just gone.
But what I could do is notice, and acknowledge that I was sad, and stop running from the pain, and be brave and face it. Nothing else has worked. But this seemed to bring some relief, not happiness or peace but relief.
If you need an ally while you walk through grief, please know I’m here. I know how impossible grief can be. I can’t fix it, but I can be a source of support.
Much love and many blessings,
