What Would Happen If We Got Real With Grief?
This Monday, Dr. C is going real on grief. She is calling out the insufficient and unrealistic narrative that too often gets circulated around grief. Dr. C asks readers to join her in pondering how to change the conversations we have when it comes to grief. She invites readers to consider their own experience and bring that to their meaningful relationships.
For an experience that we all go through as humans on earth, I continuously find the available resources on grief insufficient. What do I mean by this? I often am left with a feeling of annoyance that grief support is always wrapped up in flowery undertones. I regularly say to myself “Has the person who created this actually experienced loss of a loved one?” I never feel like it’s raw and real enough to grasp what we actually go through living life with grief. There is a break in the system.
Am I alone in this?
To me, grief is fucking hard. It’s messy, scary, unfamiliar, confusing, and shitty. Why don’t we say that more? Grief is fucking hard and it’s shitty. It has no timeline and does what it is going to do. How are we suppose to process and regulate the intense emotions involved in grief, if we are bombarded by an unrealistic portrayal of them?
Now, before you come for me and this opinion-it is not lost on me why. I get that humans are uncomfortable with distress and we would prefer to be uncomfortable for the shortest amount of time possible-or avoid it altogether. The problem is, that isn’t grief. Grief isn’t comfortable. Grief doesn’t follow rules or fit nicely in a box. Grief is not a construct designed by Hallmark, it’s a real-ass tough life experience. When we find ourselves in the thick of grief, I think we are often angered by the lack of depth of the conversations and support we receive.
Do you think these things are related? Do you think the continuous flowery undertones enable the cycle of insufficient support? Do you think that if we started actually realistically describing grief out loud and sharing our experiences that it would change what support looks like? This is a place mentally I go often. Pondering and wondering how in the safety of our meaningful relationships, we could change the narrative. Attachment is kind of my thing, I believe relationships are a crucial point in healing. I believe magic happens when we are willing to be uncomfortable (safely of course).
Today I invite you to reflect on the conversations you’ve had in your life around grief and ponder with me on the following prompts:
How many conversations about grief have I had?
How would I describe my experience of grief?
What sentiments have brought me comfort in grief?
What do I wish more people knew about grief, based on my experience?
What needs to be said out loud more?
Be mindful, lead with love, and don’t forget to listen.
Dr. C
Ping Pong
Today Dr. C reflects on processing terminal news. She brings up the brain’s desire to seek relief and how that can lead to avoidances. Dr. C encourages readers to acknowledge their pain, without it being the definer to the relationship.
A really unhelpful question we humans can berate ourselves with in response to terminal news is, “Would it be better if I didn’t know?” Faced with holding the knowledge that you or someone you love has a terminal illness, we will search our thoughts in desperation for relief. Like a never ending game of ping pong, we find ourselves fantasizing that it may have somehow been better to not know and be taken by surprise by death. Aside from that question being unhelpful, it is also question we can never truly answer. Although our anxiety makes us believe the fantasy would be somehow different, that’s all it is-a fantasy.
I specifically use the word desperation when referring to asking ourselves these types of questions. Let’s call it what it is. When we are faced with the unimaginable, we are desperate for relief. We so badly want to believe there is a world in which this process would be easier. A wild thought if we take a moment to really dissect it. We desperately want to find a version of life where losing someone we love isn’t painful. As much as we all wished that was the case, losing our loved ones involves pain.
Although this game of ping pong may be labeled by some (by me) as unhelpful, I dare also say it is a game that is comforting. Yes, two (or more) things can be true at the same time. To engage in a world where the process of death would somehow be less painful, even if this world is fantasy, can bring relief. How? It serves as a temporary escape and distraction from the current pain we are saturated in. It also gives us a sense of control, which is important to our brains and how it functions. Perceived control is not only comforting, it’s regulating. Although there might not be an answer to end the game of ping pong, it can feel good to play for a little while.
As with most things, there is a balance to how often to engage in this game. It’s an enticing game that can be comforting and keep us disengaged from the present moment. That disengagement may feel good temporarily, but disengagement does exactly what it says in it’s name-it disengages us from the present. Escaping is attractive when the present moment is unbearable. We are only human, which means we are limited to our capacities. When our nervous system senses these capacities are tapped, it looks for relief. It’s tough to continue to face pain day after day and we can make the mistake that avoidance is the best route. Avoidance may temporarily relieve us, but it also robs us of all of the other aspects to the relationship we are grieving. We forget that in the midst of that pain is so much love and we can convince ourselves the two cannot exist together. It’s a convincing lie; a lie so convincing that we often believe it and turn away. Today’s message is a reminder that although that may feel true, it is not. The relationships you may be grieving are filled with so much more. And while pain may now be a part of the interaction in the relationship, I encourage you to not let it be the definer. I encourage you to be present and to remind yourself of other emotions that coexist in the midst of pain. Love, humor, anger, excitement, and delight are just a few that come to mind.
If you’re new here, I don’t always tie things up nicely in a bow. Mostly because the work I do in trauma, grief, and attachment doesn’t come with bows. Instead I offer reflection and encouragement to feel the unsettling, to engage in the present moment even if it’s hard, and to allow yourself to play whatever your own version of ping pong is from time to time. It’s ok to need breaks, it’s ok to be overwhelmed, it’s ok to be in pain. The goal is to try and balance acceptance and allowance of these terrible feelings, while also encouraging ourselves to engage in the relationship.
Below are some reflections to support this process:
What emotions are involved in my grief other than pain?
How do I know when I’m overwhelmed and need to take a break?
Do I find myself avoiding the relationship?
Is my version of ping pong different or similar to the one described above?
Be mindful, lead with love, and don’t forget to listen.
Dr. C
Notice I didn’t say was: A love letter to a grieving soul
Dr. Cunningham pens a love note to those grieving with an emphasis on grief being a present organic relationship, rather than a checklist to complete and move past.
Dear grieving soul,
Grief comes with so many realizations, it transforms us both inwardly and outwardly. As you are reading this, you may not even feel like you know who you are. While that in and of itself can be unnerving, it’s a signal of how significant the one you are grieving is to your sense of self. Notice I didn’t say was.
I bet you never realized just how uncomfortable the rest of the world around you is with intense emotions until now. Have you found yourself completely annoyed and dreading encounters with others? Have you found the space to laugh at the ridiculous things people say? Perhaps you are desperately waiting for a single other human to just fucking get it. Grief brings a magnifying glass to how unequipped most are at holding space for things that are intense, uncomfortable, and that don’t have a clear “fix.” The fact that there isn’t an easy fix or words that bring much comfort is that same signal. The signal of how significant the one your are grieving is to your sense of self. Notice I didn’t say was.
Our brains work so hard to make sense of our lives and experiences, especially the ones that accompany intense emotions. One of the ways our brains try to help us when things are overwhelming is to organize and create a story line. Our brains work to think of and discover the hows and whys in effort to navigate what is going on around us. It’s typically a good strategy, until it comes against grief. Often, there aren’t answers to our questions in our loss. We are left here living with sometimes no answers or if we do get them, they fall short in comparison to the pain. The answers we do have so often are insufficient and leave us angry and well-aware that answers be damned, it isn’t fair. Having to live life with loss isn’t fair and the fact the brain’s typical strategy falls short is yet another signal of how significant the one you are grieving is to your sense of self. Notice I didn’t say was.
Grief is a complicated ride to say the least. It can influence how we think, what we want to do, create fears, boil up anger, change our priorities, and introduce guilt and doubt-just to name a few. Because of this, it is only human that we desire for it all to go away and meet these differing emotions with resistance. It’s in this resistance that we are the most desperate for control. The thing about grief though, is it isn’t something to be controlled. It is something that lives with us throughout our lifespan after loss. Grief is organic, subject to change, surprising, sometimes silly, sometimes painful, and sometimes down right exhausting. While on this ride, grieving soul, remind yourself that each twist and turn is a signal of how significant the one your are grieving is to your sense of self. Notice I didn’t say was.
Grieving soul, as you put one foot in front of the next, I hope this letter will serve as a reminder to engage with your grief. It is present and will continue to be. The intensity may change, but the loss of someone significant to your sense of self is a loss we feel infinitely. Your grief will likely morph and feel differently at different timepoints in your life, but it will likely always bring certain emotions back to the forefront. Grief does not go away because we don’t have all the answers, because it isn’t fair, because people don’t know what to say, or because we desire to resist. As you take each step in living life with loss, remember the relationship with the one you’ve lost continues too.
Grief is. Not was.
Be mindful, lead with love, and don’t forget to listen.
Dr. C