touching gratitude through grief
Grief knocked me on my ass this week.
My dog unexpectedly passed away in an accident, leaving me and my family heart broken.
The collective rights for people with uteruses were just taken away for so many women in this country. I've been wrapped in both individual and collective grief.
Grief for myself and grief for my community, my family, my fellow people with uteruses.
I caught myself wanting to DO something, anything to make this terrible, horrible, awful feeling go away.
And isn't it so beautifully human of us to want the pain and suffering to end?
Especially when we live in a culture that numbs. In a culture who tells us that the face-mask, deluxe latte "self care" cures all, even grief.
A culture that tells us to push away our feelings with food, alcohol, endless scrolling, shopping - anything to just not be here now, not here with these feelings.
But this mentality to "do something" is broken.
Grief is an overwhelming experience and when you're overwhelmed, action is not the answer.
Brene Brown describes overwhelm as “extreme level of stress and emotional and or cognitive intensity to the point of feeling unable to function."
Let me repeat that: Unable to function.
But I'd also like to add, unable to function, for a period of time.
That's right. Even though the overwhelm feels endless, you will come out of the overwhelm. You will emerge out of the total inability to function. It's temporary. Armed with this knowledge, allow yourself to come to a complete stop knowing that you will start again. The stopping doesn't imply an inability to never start again. It just means you need to stop and feel for now.
So if you're overwhelmed and unable to function, good.
Let that feeling be there. Let the complete and total inability to "do anything" take you.
Let your heart break, let yourself fully access the nothingness in your body.
To me, giving into the overwhelm looked like…
...leaving work halfway through the day to cry and walk around central park and eat a Levain cookie because the sugar was sweet and I needed something delicious
...pausing a movie when a grief bubble came up to call my Mom to cry because I felt like being with someone who shared my grief
...ending my meditation mid-session to punch and scream into a pillow
In short, I have allowed myself to fully succumb to the the inability to do anything. I've been practicing just being in my grief, in the total awareness that I can't do anything to make it better. I can just be here in it.
The craziest thing happened to me when I allowed myself to fully break - I've been able to access the most incredible moments of gratitude and joy. To see how grief and gratitude move so closely together.
I’m learning that the more you can deeply access your pain, also brings you closer to joy.
To cry in a coffee shop and also be touched by the warmth and kind words from the barista
To see a dog pass you on the street and have your heart shatter, but also appreciate the affection between dog and human
To feel fear in the face of hatred and polarization, and also deeply appreciate the support and banding together from your community.
To scream into a pillow in the morning, and allow yourself to laugh over dinner with new friends.
I'm not advocating that we bypass our emotions to get the the gratitude.
Skipping the feeling of the hard shitty parts in favor of trying to be "grateful" only disregards and belittles our true feelings.
No. I'm suggesting we must practice feeling both more fully. Feeling the deep grief deeper. Allowing it to come up and be expressed. But to also see the joy in our lives and be able to immerse yourself in that joy.
When we stuff down our grief, or don't allow ourselves to feel joy and peace in the midst of terrible world events, we numb it all.
When we numb our pain. We numb our joy.
What a gift it is, to be able to access greater joy only through the portal of pain and heartache.
My collective wish for us is that we learn how to feel our feelings more deeply in a community of people who love us.
Journal prompts for you:
How do you typically numb?
What are the big feelings you've been avoiding recently?
How can you nourish your grief today?
Who can you turn to for support in feeling your big feelings?
