The long view of grief

September 25, 2025 by Andrea

Ever wondered what grief looks like a decade later?

Do you wish you had a window into the future after a major loss?

Fourteen years since the worst day of my life. Fourteen years since the fourteenth of October. I’ve often had folks marvel at how I made it through. How have you built the life you have now? I can’t say I have that figured out (besides the grace of God), but I can share some principles:

My daughter, Christina was born with Cystic Fibrosis. Under my careful adherence to medical protocol, she thrived. She did everything any little girl could do – played soccer, danced ballet, jazz and modern, played with her friends, attended school (until we decided to homeschool) and participated in Girl Scouts. Her illness was undetectable to outsiders and her lungs never declined. Her only hospital visits were for sinus surgeries. Then, she moved into her teens and my careful adherence was no longer possible. I had to let her be her own person and she was a person uninterested in the multiple nebulizer treatments, chest physical therapy, and handful of enzyme capsules with every meal or snack. The stress of a difficult marriage between her parents, and the reality of her health brought mood disorders and other mental health struggles throughout high school. I could write a whole book on the challenge of parenting in those years. In fact, that season inspired my dissertation research on the psychosocial needs of adolescents with Cystic Fibrosis. That book sits in the Regent University library and on my shelf today…

Things were looking up as she vowed to turn over a new leaf with her entry to college. I treasure so many amazing times with the woman she was becoming, despite the heartbreaking moments in between, but it all fell apart swiftly. In the space of 10 days, at the age of 22, she departed and I was left stunned and devastated.

I always say that our culture has a terrible time with grief. Most folks struggle to know what to say, how to support others and those who are grieving are made to feel that they need to be “over it” within 3-7 business days. I haven’t seen much conversation on the long term journey of grief so I decided to share a bit of my story. My hope is that it can light the way for others in their journey of grief.

I remember leaving the hospital at 1am..without my daughter. It was a small band of us who had been there for the multiple code blues and the final goodbye. I remember sending a few texts. We started driving home from Miami back to West Palm but realized about halfway that we needed to stop. We found a motel by the highway and got a couple of rooms. After a few hours of “rest”, I got up, posted the news on social media (which had been our prayer wall) and called our pastor’s wife. She arranged for the care pastor to meet us so we drove straight from the motel to the church. Arrangements were completed that day. The funeral service took place four days later. Five days after that, I returned to work.

It was all so surreal. I don’t think we’re ever prepared for the day to day reality of loss. All the little ways in which the missing presence is felt. I remember when she was alive, I was leaving work and knew I needed to stop at Wal Mart on my way home. I was talking to her on the phone as I left my office, debating whether to come get her first and then go to the store, and I whined about how someday, she would be married and have her own life and I wouldn’t have her to go with me to Wal Mart any more. There was this long silence….then she dryly said, “mom, I’m not even dating anyone”. We laughed about that story so many times and the first time I had to go to Wal Mart after she died, I sobbed. Who would have thought that simple errand would undo me? She had also been my primary confidante for the abundant drama going on at work. Crazy things had been happening. She knew all the characters and all the details. No one else needed no explanation. Just two examples of the many ways her absence was felt.

Another aspect of grief that we don’t often discuss is the loss of identity. I remember the laissez faire that developed in me after her death. I had submitted the final draft of my dissertation mere weeks before she died. My chair had sent her response during Christina’s time in the medical intensive care unit. It remained unopened. The bizarre dynamics at work that would have activated my response in the past – I could barely muster a care. I realized after the fact that the boss I had at the time was so incredibly inept at dealing with my grief and the collective grief of my entire staff who had their own personal relationships with Christina. I blamed it all on grief but I eventually realized that the career drive and success I had always attributed to ambition was actually rooted in my role as mother. I was the primary breadwinner for most of the marriage to her dad and so the responsibility fell on my shoulders to ensure that we had access to good health insurance. My blazing trail up the ladder at every organization I ever worked for was simply a part of my responsibility as mom. Without that motivation, I couldn’t care less. Who was I besides Christina’s mom?

The pain of her loss was relentless and searing. So many tears were shed in my car – a place we had spent much time together. I battled the ‘shoulda/woulda/coulda’ game. What if I had driven her to Miami myself instead of waiting for transport to be approved? What if I had made different choices in her adolescence that would have prevented some of the damage she did to her body? Recognizing that I was flirting with the idea that I had the God-level power of life and death in my hands, gave me a harsh reality check that (mostly) snapped me out of that cruel game. I eventually imagined her stern little face chastising me: “mom, you better finish that degree you started…you didn’t come this far to let it all go!” I opened the email. I made the final changes. I paid the book editor. Before I knew it, I was applying for graduation and also applying for a job my friend encouraged me to pursue. Driving home from my graduation in Virginia, I stopped in Orlando for the job interview. Ten months after her death, I was moving three hours north to start a whole new chapter of switching from student development to teaching. I think all of this offered things to focus on in the midst of the pain. I wrote. I cried. I leaned on the friends who had walked the path with me. I would not have made it without them!

As the first anniversary of her death approached, I had a jarring realization: I was surrounded by people (in my new city and job) who had never met Christina. My students had no idea what significant date was appearing on my horizon. It was so disorienting and I had a fresh wave of reckoning with the reality of her absence. This is the thing about grief. You think it’s done, that you’ve moved on but that’s not how it works. I suppose you can choose to fill the space your loved one occupied with other things, places, and/or people. I can’t say how effective that is. I chose not to. I left the hole there…empty and visible. I talked about her all the time and it touched my heart so much when one of my new work colleagues shared how she felt like she had known her because of how I shared.

Slowly, I threw myself into my new role. I tackled the very challenging dynamics in my new workplace resulting from a significant trauma they had all faced prior to my arrival. Funny how I ended up in a group where we were all grieving and recovering from trauma. It was a hot mess but we worked through it. I drove regularly back to our home in Palm Beach County as my husband worked to renovate the place. We got renters and he joined me in Orlando 16 months later. Months before her death, Christina had confronted me about the marriage – challenging my presence in a situation she found unacceptable. I wanted to model commitment, covenant and perseverance but sadly, I came to realize what I modeled for her was enabling and acceptance of toxicity. It didn’t take long for those pending dynamics to resurface once we were living under the same roof again. My body served me notice that it had ENOUGH, my health tanked and I restarted the therapy process I had promised Christina I would engage. Months of therapy, prayer, fasting, surgery and self care later…I asked for a separation. Two and a half years later, I finally filed for divorce. Another loss. Another wound.

Despite the pain and anxiety of those two and a half years, I had space to discover my true self and aspects of God that I had never engaged. It was bittersweet to find that Christina was far more like me than I had realized. It was just that life and its responsibilities had forced me to bury much of what she had been free to exude. As I formed new relationships and pursued my faith in expanded ways, I built my identity from the ground up. As new information surfaced from my biological family, I missed processing with her. As the world took wild turns, I started to feel more and more gratitude that she wasn’t here to suffer through it. I found myself honoring her memory by embracing and cultivating the characteristics she got from me that I had buried for so long – the creativity, the free spiritedness, the acceptance, the love.

While my life became an ode to the qualities we shared and, I continued to tell her stories freely, the passing years put more and more distance between me and her physical presence. I can no longer conjure up the sound of her voice in my head. I forget what it feels like to squeeze her tiny body in the bear hugs she would roll her eyes over. A new type of grief emerges as I lose these tangible aspects of her. My life is a 180 degree existence from where she left me. Whether I want to accept it or not, letting go of my role as Christina’s mom allowed me to discover who Andrea was truly created to be. Couldn’t that have happened without losing her? That’s my beef with God and rest assured, we WILL discuss it when I get there. That said, I trust His process and I cannot deny that she got a good deal. She’s not missing much down here and I would never bring her back if I had the chance. She no longer has to deal with the challenges of Cystic Fibrosis, nor the erosion of communal responsibility that she would have needed to survive here. I love her too much to wish that on her, just so I could enjoy her presence. And so…I’ve built a whole new life with its own joys and love. The hole is still there but love has grown up around it. There is a beautiful, flowering hedge that encircles it, to the point that I rarely see it anymore. I know it’s there though and sometimes it either catches me by surprise or, I choose to sit with it. That will never change and that’s OK. I don’t have to abandon it in order to have the life God has blessed me to build. Grief is a both/and – it honors who we loved AND exists alongside the new life we can have if we are willing to risk loving and trying again.

Filed Under: Emotional Health Tagged With: Chronic Illness, Grief, Hope, Identity, Life Seasons, Loss, Rebirth, Transformation

When it’s not over…

May 20, 2025 by Andrea

When a crisis/trauma/loss is ongoing, how do I grieve in the midst of it?

What emotional health tools can I access when the situation is not yet resolved?

We talk a lot about grief work here at Phenix. We firmly believe that the work of grief is absolutely necessary to mental and emotional health and necessary to the business of moving forward in a healthy way. That work (at least how we describe it) has a timing to it though. As such, there are a couple of limitations that we have identified over the years:

The first year after a major loss is a time of daily reckoning with the absence – facing every new “first time without…” If you are attuning to your emotions in that process and finding space to share your stories and feelings – that is the work. That is enough. As you approach the first anniversary, some space opens up for you to be able to dive deeper into the processing and releasing that is grief work.
When you are in the midst of an unfolding loss, even more is there a lack of emotional energy to grieve! How can you capture the nuances and details of the way loss impacts you when the story is still being written? How can you bring closure to your feelings of anger, hurt, fear, etc. when they are still being produced fresh and new each day?

As I have worked with many clients this year who are finding themselves in unprecedented times…times of deep disappointment, fear, outrage and confusion, the topic of grieving would come up. However, when each morning brings with it a new threat, a new loss – the principles of grieving felt out of tune and that limitation of grief work became glaringly obvious. I found myself bringing up the concept of lament as a much more appropriate practice in such a situation.

Not only am I intimately familiar with the concept of lament from scripture but I was inspired to return to a talk from Dr M Elizabeth Lewis Hall on the topic of lament to glean specific applications to these times.

First – what is lament? How is it different to grieving? From my perspective, I see a lot of overlap in these two terms. They are both associated with times of loss and/or wounding. They both may look similar from the outside but they differ in intent and outcome. The intent of grief is to move forward in life after a loss or wound. It’s process is one of accepting a new reality, working through the pain of the loss, adjusting to a new environment and embarking on a new post-loss life (Worden, 2008). You can find a deeper dive on grief here. Lament’s intent is to find ways to cope with suffering. It’s process is one of identifying a value, concept or Deity to turn to, presenting complaint, making a request and finding confidence that there will be a response. Lament helps us reconnect with (or find), meaning, trust and a focus outside ourselves. Doesn’t that sound relevant to these days?

So how do we practice lament?

It begins with identifying a Higher Power – some value, concept or Deity that you believe has influence and/or control over life. When life does not make sense, when suffering seems needless and unnecessary, the human soul cries out for explanation – someone or something to hold responsible. Some have decided that is not an option for them. They must rely on self regulation skills, community or physical practices/substances to help them move through seasons of suffering. For those who are willing to look outside themselves and fellow humans, the journey begins – to identify some force to whom one can appeal, in addition to those other resources. For us, it is a Triune God – Father, Son and Holy Spirit who I refer to as They in light of that Trinity structure. For others, it may be Love as a Divine force, for example.

Once you have a Higher Power identified, a relationship with that entity has to be cultivated. Under normal circumstance, do we feel comfortable turning to an absolute stranger to pour our hearts out? Even when seeing a therapist, it usually takes several sessions to build enough rapport to open up in an ongoing way. Similarly, if lament is to be useful, a relationship must be established and that takes time. It is counter-intuitive but the crazier life gets, the more important it is to set aside time for this connection. Think about the ways in which you get to know a new friend. What are the ingredients of that budding connection? Likely – conversation, doing fun things together and hanging out with mutual friends. Use these same principles in relating to your Higher Power. Justin and I have learned to use our imagination to set the scene for conversations with God. We specifically invite God to make Their presence known to us before we begin an activity. We hang out with others who also have a relationship with God, praying together and sharing our God-experiences with each other. Get creative and find ways to translate these ideas into connecting with your Higher Power.

In times of suffering, if this relationship and time together has been established, the rest flows more easily. We can bring our uncensored complaints to God. If you come from the Christian tradition, this may have been frowned upon in your circles but scripture absolutely refutes such prohibition. Not only is there a whole book of the bible called Lamentations, there is an entire category of Psalms referred to as Psalms of lament, not to mention the plethora of lament examples scattered throughout the Bible. Toxic positivity tells us that we should not complain. We should put a positive spin on every trial but psychology (not to mention scripture) does not support this approach! Think about a time when someone was able to help you see a difficult circumstance from a better angle…Did they steamroll over your emotions of distress to shove you in that direction or did they take the time to first listen, validate and empathize with where you were coming from? We struggle to change our thinking before we first feel heard and understood. Honesty and transparency is essential to trust, connection and support so present your complaint with your whole chest! Then, take some time to simply listen for a response of empathy. Perhaps it comes in words – thoughts that come to mind, or a comforting smell, a soothing melody, the sensation of a warm hug, or some other sign…

Next, we make our requests. Again, honesty and authenticity is key. Talk about what you want to see happen, even if your desires seem dark or frivolous. You have to let the vinegar pour out before the oil will come, so keep talking. I realized years ago that I had learned to be deeply suspicious of my desires. This book helped me uncover subtle spiritual messages about discounting and denying what I truly wanted instead of bringing it to God and recognizing They wired me in specific ways with specific desires They wanted to fulfill. That’s a conversation for another post; suffice it to say that letting your Higher Power know what it is you want and need is key to unburdening your soul. This is the place where you release the weight of your suffering into the hands of Another and yes, I suggest you speak out loud. Psychology tells us the power of simply telling our story and speaking our truth. I believe there is also a spiritual power in this practice that is a mystery I cannot explain, yet very real.

Lament always ends with surrender which is rooted in a confidence in the Higher Power. Though things do not make sense, though your complaints and requests are valid, yet will you trust the wisdom and power of that Higher Power who sees and knows much more that you do (hence the title, “Higher Power”). This is where the importance of cultivating a relationship comes into play. How do we trust something that we do not have a connection to? How do we trust someone we do not know? In this phase of lament, we return to stories. Stories from our own life history and that of other sojourners which testify to the faithfulness and presence of our Higher Power. It is in rehearsing these stories that confidence grows. If companionship and fidelity has been proven before, then it can be counted on again. “Surrender” has become a controversial word so let me define it more specifically here. Surrender, as an outcome of lament is the decision to trust the evidence in the stories. Trust that I am not alone in this. I am held and supported in my suffering by a Power greater than myself and that Power has my best in mind. It is choosing to rest in that belief. It is not leaving one’s brain at the door, so to speak, and blindly aligning with concepts for which there is no evidence (i.e. lived experience/stories of presence and faithfulness). It is also not resignation. I remember the moment when I realized I was confusing those two. God gently confronted me with the fact that throwing my hands up in futility with a decree of, “it is what it is” was absolutely NOT surrender. Ouch. Ever since, I have had to pay close attention to that difference because one leads to peace, the other leads to despair.

There you have the practice of lament which I believe is an important tool in such a time as this. If you are familiar with African American spirituals, you may recognize this cycle of address, complaint, request and trust. It is a cycle we return to as many times as needed while our trials unfold.

But what about grief? Sometimes there is an anticipated end which begins to bring up the need for processing. Sometimes, our suffering has no end in sight or it is way off in the distance. Either way, it can be helpful to document the losses within the loss that are unfolding – just a brief, bullet-point listing of what is going away or what is missing. This allows your brain to download this baggage and when the season comes to an end, that inventory becomes a launching pad for the grief work that transitions you to your next season.

What are your thoughts on lament? How are you using these steps in your own seasons of pain or suffering?

Filed Under: Emotional Health, Mental Health Tagged With: Crisis, Emotional Tools, Loss, Stress

Dealing with Disappointment

March 24, 2022 by Andrea

It seems that is a common theme these days.

Plans are made, an interruption strikes, and disappointment enters.

A relationship doesn’t work out the way we hoped it would, a job doesn’t turn out how we thought, plans we were looking forward to are cancelled.

The day becomes entrenched in it, the weekend overcome by it.

However, we often give away so much of our power to disappointment.

What would happen if we viewed the impact of the disappointment differently?

Notice I didn’t say “view the disappointment differently”. This is not a post on maintaining only positive thoughts and ignoring sadness. In order to feel happiness, we have to also feel the other emotions, including sadness. We can’t push down one without pushing down them all.

So yes, it is okay to be sad when something we were hoping for doesn’t work out. It is okay to be disappointed when we were really excited for something to happen.

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The key is how do we allow the disappointment to impact us.

Part of casting off the lie of powerlessness is not allowing external factors to control us.

Yes, external factors will impact all of us. However, we get to control our mindset, our hope, and how we respond.

So after feeling the disappointment, where do we go from there? Here are two key questions:

Can I flow with the change? – Similar to waves coming onto a beach. If we stand against the wave, it crashes against us. If we go with the wave, it takes us right back to shore. With disappointment, can we flow with the emotions then adjust our mindsets?

Often, when we hold our lives, plans, and ideas with tight fists, any slight adjustment will send us spiraling. The key is to hold our plans and relationships with a dose of both hope and reality. Hope that things will progress a certain way, but also reality in realizing the world we live in and that plans can change.*

How do we adjust our mindset? – Let’s say plans are cancelled because you were exposed to covid (again). You now have more free time on your hands than you did before. How do you view that time? Do you allow it to be overcome by the disappointment or do you find ways to still live? This could look like reading a good book, maybe taking a much needed rest, or deep cleaning that space in the house that you’ve been avoiding.

In therapy terms, this is called “reframing”. It is this concept of taking the same picture (ex. the exposure) and putting a new frame around it. It does not negate what has happened or take away the frustration, sadness, or disappointment. However, it does change how we view the picture.

For your disappointment, what is a possible reframe?

*Idea of holding hope and reality together came from a book called, People Can’t Drive You Crazy If You Don’t Give Them The Keys by Mike Bechtle.

Filed Under: Emotional Health, Mental Health Tagged With: Coping Skills, Counseling, Hope, Loss, Self Care, Self Knowledge

Surviving the Unknown

March 2, 2022 by Andrea

It took me a while to figure out how to begin this post.

So much has occurred in the previous weeks (years, really) that cannot be put into words.

The grief that has entered people’s lives, the chaos in the world today, and the fires that never seem to end.

There have been so many “once in a lifetime” occurrences that I’ve lost track.

However, here is the dilemma : if we want to survive this, we have to find a way to survive. In other words, we have to find ways to take care of ourselves.

But if you’re anything like me right now, just being told to engage in self care is exhausting. It’s another to do list that I have no energy for, and frankly, don’t want to spend energy on.

So where do we go from here?

Below are three simple ideas that can maybe provide some encouragement during this time that take no energy to do at all.

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Comfort Corner : This one is my favorite. The whole premise is to find a place to de-stress. It doesn’t matter if it is a corner in your room, a seat in your car, or a place in nature. The goal is to have a place that is specifically used for receiving comfort and de-stressing. This way, whenever you go there, your body will actually begin to relax. Our director, Andrea, is doing a special Instagram Live on the Comfort Corner this week. You can visit our Instagram page to watch the video on more ways to do this, and other creative ideas. (My area that I go to currently has chocolate and cookies in it. I’ve prepped that area well.)

Drop the phone : Overstimulation is real. Our bodies were not created to take in coverage from the entire world non-stop everyday. The threat response systems in us are extremely sensitive to any possible threat, and that includes news coverage. Since it is also important to know what is going on outside of our immediate circles, maybe practice spacing out the times you are on social media or watching the news. For those born before the 2000’s, you probably remember how the news used to only come on at 5 pm. That’s when we would receive our daily updates for everything going on. Now, we are bombarded with information 24/7, most of it not comforting. So find times that work with your schedule – where there is an intentional time of gathering information and then a break to allow your body to regulate.

*For those who want to really be challenged, try spending an hour (or even a full day) without your phone. Really allow your body to detox from the information overload it may have been experiencing.

Release the shame : We live in a culture that is highly focused on performance. Not surprisingly, this has seeped into our view on taking care of ourselves as well. Now, we feel ashamed for “not doing enough” to take care of ourselves or those in our families who rely on us for provision and answers. Here is the truth though: you won’t have all of the answers and know exactly what to do every time. There will be days that getting out of bed is hard. There will be days that realizing you are awake and still here that are even harder. Give yourself permission to release the shame telling you that something is wrong with you or that you have failed. Physically push the shame off of your body. Like right now – physically push it off as you take a deep breath. As you inhale, imagine gathering the shame. Then as you exhale, imagine releasing the shame from your body.

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As we continue this journey together over the coming weeks, I encourage you to form a mental mantra that you can repeat when you feel yourself getting burned out, exhausted, or just about to explode.

For the end of this blog post, let’s practice one together. I placed the statements next to either “inhale” or “exhale”. As you breathe in or out, I encourage you to say those statements and allow your body to rest in them. I received this idea from an Instagram account called blackliturgies. Each post is powerfully written.

Inhale: I am still here.

Exhale: There is always hope.

Filed Under: Emotional Health, Mental Health Tagged With: Coping Skills, Counseling, Grief, Hope, Loss, Psychotherapy, Self Care, Self Knowledge, Self Love, Therapy

Grief – The land between…

October 12, 2021 by Andrea

Do you wish there was an instant switch from insight to doing life differently?

Have you ever been stuck in the transition between dysfunction and learning how to live in a new way?

Back in 2015, I heard Jeff Manion speak on his new book, The Land Between. I purchased the book at that conference and have referred to his thoughts many times since as I have passed through various transitions. In therapy at Phenix, we walk our clients through a grieving process after we have deconstructed their story. As I would explain the process to my clients, I caught myself using that phrase, “the land between” to help them understand where they are in the process. It finally occurred to me to return to Jeff’s material to see if there were any specific concepts that I could adapt specifically to this grieving process.

Jeff uses the bible story of the Israelites leaving Egypt and the time they spent in the wilderness as the metaphor for his book. Often, clients come to us because they are ready to leave their Egypt. As we unpack the story of how they got there, they become more and more convinced that they are done with the dysfunctions of their past. Treatment planning involves painting the picture of their “promised land” where healthy relationships, living in their calling, pursuing a career they love, intimacy with God, healed mental struggles, strong emotion management or physical ease reigns. Problem is, a vast wilderness exists between Egypt and the Promised Land and the journey is not linear!

Not only do we need to learn the skills required to thrive in the promised land, we first need to release the waste products of our Egypt. That is grieving. The wilderness is necessary. It is the place we shed our identity as slaves to our family of origin and position ourselves to live as our true selves. Just like the Israelites…if we skip over the process, we may find ourselves languishing in the wilderness far longer than needed. As much as grief sounds like the root canal we want to avoid, sustainable living in the promised land demands we move through it. So, buckle up and let’s review some guiding principles for the journey:

Our season of grief is fertile soil for meltdown. It is likely the main reason why most of us avoid it. The thought of allowing emotions to emerge can feel too intimidating: What do we do with the emotions we experience? What will happen if I express them? What if they consume me and I can’t function? Those are the concerns we face together and we equip you with the tools you will need to sit with and actually benefit from, your emotions.
Grief is also fertile soil for complaint. Let’s define that term. It is not lament – which is pouring out our heart’s emotions. Complaint is judgement against God, it is implying (or flat out stating), that we were/are better off without God. Thankfully, God is strong enough to handle our complaints and we specifically hold space for that in therapy if desired. For those who don’t subscribe to a Higher Power, it is judgment against life itself and the order of things – however we make sense of it. Complaint resists eviction which is why most of us require assistance for moving it out.
Opening hands to release the past makes space for provision. In therapy, provision looks like mental and emotional space for the new story. It looks like the skills and mindset needed to enter the promised land. As we release the self criticism, bitterness, fear and guilt of our old story, provision can look like contentment and strength.
Our informed consent disclosure details the risks of therapy – that classic dilemma of, “be careful what you ask for”. One of those risks is the fact that grieving reveals our own shadow selves, inviting discipline in those areas. This is often a painful process but it is also a rescue mission, a course correction that calibrates our compass toward our true selves…our purpose.
The hope of grief work is transformational growth. It is the soil God uses to grow the things our hearts desire. Grieving is the soil for learning to trust because trust is required for thriving in the promised land. Trust of self, trust of healthy others, trust of God. Trust pushes out complaint. It evicts the lifestyle of victimhood.

So whether you need to grieve a death or the losses you’ve identified in therapy, don’t skip the process. Seek out a wilderness guide (counselor) to help you make the most of the journey. If you live anywhere in FL, reach out to us!

Filed Under: Uncategorized Tagged With: Counseling, Grief, Loss, Self Care, Therapy, Transformation

Mourning

September 19, 2016 by Andrea

I’ve often described it like standing on the sea shore. At first, the water is stormy and I’m regularly knocked down by an incoming wave that overwhelms me. I find myself swallowing a lot of salt water. Slowly (over years), the water calms down a little. The waves aren’t as huge. I’ve developed a strategy for bracing myself. They start coming in less frequently and I either handle the occasional wave like a champ or I get rusty and am surprisingly flattened by the next one. There’s no rhyme or reason to which way it goes. Perhaps it is a reflection of the context of my life – what else is going on, the level of emotional reserve I have in the tank when the wave comes. This is what grieving feels like to me and when I’ve shared this metaphor with others on the path, they nod knowingly.

That’s not the way our culture portrays it though. Typically, grief is shown as this linear journey which has as it’s goal – “getting back on the horse” or some similar cliche. You feel terrible at first. You’re allowed to have a few good cries but then you’re supposed to start sucking it up and finding something to do with yourself so that you can “get on with your life”. You can talk about your loss for a week or three but after that – folks squirm, look uncomfortable and try to redirect the conversation to more positive topics in an effort to rescue you from your pain. This leaves many feeling as though something is terribly wrong with them. They go into protection mode for their loved ones…not wanting anyone to be worried – effectively painting themselves into a corner of truncated grief.

My grieving path began with the loss of my adoptive mother. Eighteen years later, I lost my adult daughter. A little over a week ago, I lost my cousin who was more like a big sister to me. There have been other losses in between but those are the big kahunas. I have found one of the most important aspects of healthy grieving is the space and time to tell stories. I am incredibly blessed with a family that loves to sit around and tell stories about our departed loved ones. Tears (even years after the loss) are totally accepted. I speak about my daughter in every aspect of my life. One of the greatest compliments I’ve ever received is when someone said they felt like they knew her based on how much I incorporate her into my conversation. I have found that when I make it an open part of who I am, the people around me come along for the ride. They are comforted that the subject is not taboo – they don’t have to tiptoe around it. While our culture defaults to silence, I find that most individuals are terribly relieved when transparency is modeled.

Obviously, this topic is fresh on my mind this week and as I ponder my own path, I’m more aware of the grieving of others…The difficulty we face in this culture of doing it well. My passion for walking this path with others and my recognition of the work as sacred is renewed. Grieving isn’t just about the death of a loved one. It can be the death of a relationship, of a dream, of a life stage. Such passages are significant losses that must be acknowledged and processed if we are to glean all that it has to teach us and to move forward in good health. I encourage you to embrace this process and enlist a wilderness guide to walk with you!

Filed Under: Uncategorized Tagged With: Counseling, Grief, Group Therapy, Loss, Psychotherapy