Life’s Unavoidable Pain

I’m on a fun quest to relate differently to the massive amount of grief I carry with me. After losing all of my important family members, I never recovered in a way that let me re-engage with life. I’ve worked with therapists and coaches, changed my diet and exercise, took St. John’s wort and saffron, stayed in bed, made myself get out of bed, read the books, did the workbooks, and even bought a grief coloring book. I’ve cried, felt it, talked about it, kept it inside, ran from it, tried to cheer it up, went to Disney World, distracted myself. And here I am, several years later still dragging it along. It shades my joyful moments and burdens my hard moments. It’s always with me.

Lately, I’ve stopped dragging and turned toward it. Not to cry or scream at it, but to ask this part of me what it needs and support myself. The grief appeared as a young version of me who is crying for her cherished grandparents, who were EVERYTHING to her. She said she didn’t want cookies, or tv shows, or trips to the beach or Disney. She didn’t want toys or games or her favorite foods. She didn’t want to be cheered up or distracted. She just wanted her grandparents back.

I had to sit with that. There was nothing else I could do. What’s lost can’t be restored or found or replaced. It is just gone.

But what I could do is notice, and acknowledge that I was sad, and stop running from the pain, and be brave and face it. Nothing else has worked. But this seemed to bring some relief, not happiness or peace but relief.

If you need an ally while you walk through grief, please know I’m here. I know how impossible grief can be. I can’t fix it, but I can be a source of support.