But- have you grieved? {BONUS}

***this post originally went out as an email to everyone on my email list on 09/08/2022. I had such an overwhelming response (and I’m sorry if you sent me an email and I haven’t replied yet!) that I wanted it to reach as many people as possible.  So I’m posting it here and on my podcast, as well***

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The other day I was connecting with a dear, trusted confidante about some hard things that are happening in my life.

She asked if I was being compassionate or critical toward myself.

It was easy to answer.  I’ve got a pretty strong self-compassion muscle (but I promise you I haven’t always!  I’ve really worked it hard over the past many years).

So- mostly I’m being pretty compassionate toward myself.

Then she asked “but have you grieved.”

Oof.

OOF.

Darn.  Even though we long for it, sometimes it’s so hard to be so seen.  To have someone so quickly get right to the heart of it.

No. No I have not, thank you very much.  

This morning as I was putzing around the dark kitchen waiting for my first cup of coffee I thought to myself “Why not? What’s the risk in grieving this hard thing?”

Which- mind you- I’ve asked myself approximately 6839 times before.

But I actually heard an answer this time.

If I grieve, I’m acknowledging this thing I’m grieving is actually real and it’s probably not going to change.

To grieve means I have to be honest about what’s happening.

That feels very ‘endgame’ to me.  And to be honest, I’m not that impressed with this particular storyline.

So I continue to rage against it.  I continue to hope that was is true isn’t true.  

And I’m constantly setting myself up for disappointment (this always happens when I hope reality isn’t real).

And then I rage against reality not being what I want it to be.

But, have you grieved?

Sometimes I want to shout “TELL ME HOW!!!!  IF YOU SHOW MY HOW I WILL DO IT AND I WILL GET AN A+ AT IT!!!!”

OK let’s be honest.  I actually have shouted that.  As if it’s a well-kept secret that no one is willing to share with me for the explicit purpose of taunting me and preventing me for getting that A+.

Here’s the thing.

I know how to grieve.  And I have to trust that my inner world is touching into the grief in exactly the pace that is right.

I’m titrating the grief.  

Slowly.  Like…very slowly.

When my system believes I can I acknowledge reality and grieve it, I will.

When I can feel safe inside the loss of control, I’ll grieve.  The not-ever-real-anyway control that somehow I have the power to make life go exactly the way I want it to.  

Yesterday I was chatting with the person who is writing the forward for my book (I’ll tell you as soon as I can who that person is!!!) and this person said they were so grateful to read all the times I return to grief.  I remind the reader that grief makes sense. That some of the things they encounter with their kids is just really crummy and sad and overwhelming and not fixable.  And worthy of grief.

When you love someone who struggles, there is grief.  A lot of it.  

I think I need to re-read my own book.

There is so much grief in loving someone who struggles.  Someone who has a vulnerable nervous system.  Someone who has baffling behaviors.  

Grief for them and grief for ourselves.

So, dear reader– have you grieved?

I’m going to spend the next week being curious about my body’s belief that I can’t handle the grief.

Because I think the truth is that I can handle the grief.  I think the story that I can’t handle the grief is a trickster story.  It’s trying soooo hard to keep me safe, but with my owl brain I can see that I can handle the grief.  

I can release my strong-hold on the reality I’m hoping for and instead be brave enough to embrace that reality that I have.  

I wonder how much beauty and gorgeousness I’m missing by insisting that THIS reality isn’t the one I want?

This was a long email.  That’s for witnessing my rambling thoughts.  I didn’t know exactly what I was gonna write after the subject line.

Thank you for seeing me.  I hope you also feel seen by me.