Everything is a grieving process

Preface: I know— we’re still talking about this. I’m over it, too. I hesitated to write this post, but alas, given what I am hearing and seeing, both personally and professionally, it felt necessary. It is needed.

In a recent edition of her newsletter, my charming friend Schuyler shared her thought of the day: “Allow loss to change you.” Let’s sit with that for a second.

Allow loss to change you.

I found that sentiment to be so perfectly aligned with our life experiences over the past 8+ months, as many of us are struggling to find some sense of meaning among our loss. We are all grieving in our own way. Whether it be loved ones, a job, a relationship, possessions, passions, time we would have spent traveling, time we could have spent with family and friends, loss of community, connection, the life that we once lived…Grief and loss, in some form or another, has impacted all of our lives and has made a lasting imprint upon our souls.

So…how can we allow this loss to change us?

If we continue to swim through these murky waters, I sincerely believe that we can find space for healing (“step 1”, if you will) and growth (“step 2”) on the other side. Sometimes our strokes will be graceful and other times we may be flailing our arms like a maniac, just trying to keep a float, but alas, we will still make it to the other side.

Before we can allow for a change, it’s important that we honor the pain and give ourselves time and permission to heal. Ya gotta feel to heal. And a warm reminder: loss is loss. We need not measure the size or potential significance of our experiences with anybody else’s. Feel your feels, human. It is all a part of the process. It’s hard and it’s necessary and it’s raw and at times, it’s lonely. Scream, cry, kick (something soft), dance it out—whatever [within reason] you need to do to release the stress of your loss from your system. Pretending these feelings don’t exist (otherwise known as denial), attempting to jump over the pain to frantically search for the silver lining, or numbing these feelings with any number of harmful substances or behaviors will not work. Acknowledge what is there. Honor what is there. Be compassionately curious about what these feelings are and why they might be there. This process is not linear. This process takes patience. You may need professional help to get through it. Be very, very kind to and gentle with yourself.

Full disclosure: my process has been messy. Some days I have stroked along gracefully, while others have been filled with lots (and lots) of arm flailing. I have come to realize that I can feel both wildly grateful and a depth of emptiness just short of despair at the exact same time. And on some days, I do.

But.

But after taking the time to honor my feelings and create a healing and compassionate space for myself, I have started to notice ways in which the loss has changed me. How my patience has grown and self-judgment has dropped. I am more aware. I am more intentional. I am hitting my internal pause button (before pressing send, flipping my lid, operating under an unfair assumption). There is less doing and more being. I am writing myself permission slips, breaking unnecessary rules (read: rigid thinking patterns), and I am finding myself to be more forgiving, of both myself and others.

And then I return to the grief. And I let myself feel, again and again. And some days, I just have a case of the Fuck Its. And that’s okay, too. Honor your process without judgment. Be compassionately curious without an attachment to what you may discover […she also needs to remind herself daily].

If the true nature of life is impermanence, then everything is a grieving process. We are constantly cycling through beginnings and endings. Oftentimes grief can open your heart—first it may crack, than you may crumble…

And then.

You find your way through the pain. And slowly, with ease, you can allow the loss to change you.