A Visit From Grandma Grief
Life is an experience of the good and the bad, joys and sorrows, ease and difficulty. Without one, the other cannot be. Our personal journey through the highs and lows of life shape us to be who we are at this very moment and teach us more about who we truly are. Through this unfolding towards knowing our selves, the hardest times can prove to be the most valuable if we are willing to use them to our advantage.
The kind of pain that cracks open your entire being gives way for transformation and growth. It has the ability to soften us, to rebuild us on our way out of the journey. Becoming aware of this as you are immersed in its depths may not make it any less painful, but seeing it as an opportunity to learn about yourself can give it a feeling of purpose.
At some point we have all known the debilitating experience of grief. It is by far the most beautiful yet intimidating of the emotional family. I have experienced it within my own body more times than I would care to count, and I have seen it experienced in many others. It is multifaceted – it embodies sadness, anger, and depression, all of which are challenging visitors in their own right. But what makes grief special is that it also has a raw softness to it. It is ungrounding and turbulent, but if you’ve seen what comes following its passage, you know that absolute beauty and fertile soil for growth awaits.
Grief is life’s experiences of disorienting difficulties. Grief is initiated by all of the hard things: loss, change, the depths of the unknown. We don’t know what life will be like on the other end of it and it is uncomfortable to say the least. Uncertainty is prevalent, for the future is now distorted. What once was, is now gone and the process of letting go comes in waves of tears, colliding with numbness, what if’s, more sadness and a fog so thick that it is certain to run any ship aground. Grief is not linear and it’s not always a clear process, so it helps to walk it with an ally. This is what it looks like to me…
I imagine Grief as a stoic grandmother figure, who is tough-loving and takes crap from nobody. She is the kind of grandmother who makes you finish your plate and scolds you for being lazy, but underneath has a softness that is only seen in the moments she deems fit. I often see her side-eyeing me making sure I don’t dabble in escapism, but will tell me to go outside to play when I’ve been crying alone long enough.
When Grief enters my life, she always prefers to drop in unexpectedly. She prefers it this way because any less of a shock wouldn’t deliver the same deep wounding that forces me to stop everything, become fully immersed with feeling, and to begin to rebuild. The tenderness of vulnerability, the receiving of support, and the gentleness of self-love have a chance to take center stage.
As I write this, Grief if currently sitting beside me, watching me constantly, occasionally tapping me on the shoulder when I’ve had too long of a moment to forget and she wakes me back into the nightmare of reality. I’d ask her to leave but I know that it would be futile. She is far too formidable and has a purpose to her presence. The only choice I have to is to fully welcome her, offer her tea (or whiskey) and a warm place to stay until it’s time to move on. I don’t know why she seems to prefer me like her favorite grandchild, but I know her all too well now. I know how I tend to greet her with sleepless nights, a nonexistent appetite and drawn blinds. Yesterday, when she arrived, I recognized her right away, and the better I get to know her I realize she never shows up any less dominating.
She is never an easy visitor, but this time I will attempt to do things differently. I will respond by reaching out to my support system to hold me accountable so that I eat a bit more than nothing, open the blinds and maybe step outside once in awhile. This is how Grief has taught me about myself. I know my relationship with her, my responses to her, and with this current opportunity, I feel her just as intensely along with the intent to present new offerings. Will it make it any easier? Will it make her leave any sooner? I don’t know and I may never know. But what I do know is that I will be a stronger person from what she’s given me. No other emotional visitor has such a delicate capacity to provoke such deep emotional caverns within, giving the chance to see into a part of myself that had been previously unexplored. For this I thank Grief for being an all too frequent visitor over the years, but man, she’s a bitch.
I share my experience with you with the hope that it helps with your own personal journey into the unknown whether it’s right now or in the future. This difficult place is one we must venture alone (though not without outside support) and it is our responsibility to understand our personal navigation within it, our responses and our tendencies. Give yourself the time you need. Nourish yourself. Ask for support. Express yourself through tears, writing, music, movement… Know that you will be okay. You will be better than okay. Chances are you’ve done this before, and you can do it again. You have no choice but to do it again. You are never given more than you can handle, just enough to break open to the depths you need to see a little more of you.
—
gp
