Why grief is powerful

Grief. We don't talk about it much. And when we do, there is often a lot of discomfort in the room. The definition: “Very great sadness, especially at the death of someone” and I would add “or something”.

I believe, if we dare to look closely, we go through cycles of grief all the time. We might grieve an opportunity that passed us by. A memory we could've had, but didn't. A friendship that was once close but has grown apart. A version of ourselves that is no longer there.

Grief is everywhere, and we would all see it, were we not so busy stuffing it away.

I'm here to tell you about my own process with grief. How it has shaped me in my younger years, how I've run away from it, how it found me again and how I've come to feel so much love for it.

Grief has value, at least for me it does. And I believe it holds value for us all. If we learn to hold grief close to our hearts, we'll be more capable of supporting the sadness AND the joy of the world and ourselves.

But I'll let you decide..

My 3 stories of grief and what they taught me:

Story 1

I was 17 years old and lost my dearest friend to suicide. Looking back, I realise I also lost my safest place for emotional support. Often it felt like I was drowning in my grief, and the person who I would've gone to for support, was the reason I was grieving. It was such a disorienting place to be in. My surroundings were often uncomfortable with my sadness. They would offer me one-liners like 'it takes time' without offering much presence or support. I felt alone. 

The lesson I took: It's better to just depend on myself. From now on I will not lean on someone for emotional support, because if I lose them, I will be lost again. 

Story 2

I was 25 years old and found myself crying on the kitchen floor after receiving disturbing news. However, it wasn't proportional to the mental breakdown I was having. I realised I had been looking away from feelings that were now asking for attention. I found a therapist and started uncovering grief that had been sitting in my body, unattended to, for years. 

Turns out, that grief had turned into heavy blanket, covering over much of my inner world. I burnt out at work in the process. Grieving washed me clean. I cried all the tears I hadn't cried in the past, and the ones I felt at losing a version of me that was endlessly productive and extraverted. And because I grieved, I was able to meet a new version of me. 

The one that started writing again, the one that embraced her imperfection and the one that was brave enough to leave a job that wasn't for her. Also the one that could be present with deep sorrow passing through her body and know she would be okay. 

The lesson I took: Grief needs to be felt and preferably shared. Not everyone has the capacity to be present with grief, and that's okay. Just find the people who can. It is not to be fixed or reasoned away. It is to be heard and held. Despite what I told myself 8 years ago, it's okay to lean on people for support. Just look for the right people, they will be there. There will always be parts of me that need letting go of, which immediately invites in the opportunity to embrace something new. Also, heavy emotions hold as much importance as light ones.

Story 3

I was 32 years old and travelled to Scotland to work with sheep. I signed up to help with the lambing season, which means supporting while the sheep give birth to their lambs. I was prepared for the beauty of it, but knew I also signed up for misfortune that might happen. During one of my shifts, I saw one of the sheep unwell, breathing heavily. I instantly recognised she was in deep struggle. 

I tried to give her water and reached out for help, but within 10 minutes, her spirit was gone. A neighbor had come to help. A practical man. He was very matter of fact. Focused on 'these things happen'. Took her body and dragged her toward a shadowy part. Then he walked off expecting I would follow, because the way he saw things, we were 'done with our job'. But I wasn't done. There hadn't been space for grief. 

Against the social conditions screaming: 'it's just an animal, these things happen, let's shrug it off and move on'. I followed my heart. Walked back to her body and sat with her. I cried at her leaving this earth. I felt my helplessness at it having been so quick. And to my surprise, I felt gratitude coming up from a well deep within me. Gratitude for her letting me be there during her last moments. Having been able to sit with her and talk to her. Also gratitude that she had lived. I was changed.

The lesson I took: Grief is honest and powerful. It deserves my attention and my care. It asks of me to face the heavier parts of life. And in that heaviness lies connection. If I don't take time to face what is dying, I only have my eyes opened to half of reality, to half of Mother earth. Grief gets easier to hold, the more I learn to love myself. There is a way of practicing holding it in my body and I know how. More importantly, I know how to ask for support. Grief is a portal to transformation and love. It is ruthlessly honest. It is a bringer of connection and of gratefulness. It is a beautiful part of being alive.  

Those are my 3 stories. I wonder what yours is.  I hope you have people in your life that are curious about your grief. And that one of those people is you, yourself. 

If you wish to share a story about your grief, feel free. My inbox is open. Either way, I am sending you love, resilience and softness in whichever grief is alive in you right now. Would you like to create space for your grief or sorrow? One of the three pillars of my breath and emotional bodywork focuses on grief.

In a gentle way, I'll guide you in connecting to the sorrow that you have been carrying for a long time. We give your body and nervous system the opportunity to process it and allowing relaxation to arise from within. It will create space so you can ask the right people for support and so love or gratitude for what was lost, can rise once again.

I look forward to meeting you.