I have been a longtime mental health advocate and supporter of therapy. I write about it often. When I was younger, I started seeing guidancecounselors at school because I had symptoms of ADHD and anxiety. Since then, I’ve spent a lot of time explaining to therapists my feelings, exploring my family history and past relationships, and anything else that comes up in that setting. In my mind, I’m the “perfect patient”. I’m consistent, honest, and I do the work. I come to every session armed with my journal full of pages detailing the last week and notes for what I want to work on going forward. I do all the homework, and I always ask for more.
That’s why I almost couldn’t believe it when I woke up yesterday morning and realized I’ve been drowning for weeks in an impossible-to-escape grief tank. I’ve been sluggish, tired, frustrated, and easily agitated. I haven’t been sleeping well or eating well. I’ve been shutting out my friends and family. I took time away from hiking, camping, and even writing — gasp! How does the “perfect patient” not notice when grief is bubbling under the surface?
The last few years have been anything but normal, and they certainly have not been easy. I’ve ended relationships, haven’t been working consistently, turned thirty, and have been struggling with the crossroads of my future. It seems like it should have been obvious that grief was the culprit. The life I lived three years ago is over, and I have to live a new life now. I never stopped to realize that I might be grieving everything that I once knew to be true but no longer exists.
Some BS About “Time Healing Everything” When I was a kid, we had a family dog — a Schnauzer named Pepper. He was already an old guy when I was born, and I was still really young when he died. Most days I hardly think about him. Other days, even more than twenty years later, I will see a Schnauzer walking down the street and become filled with an overwhelming sadness and longing for the dog I loved as a child.
Obviously, it’s true that over time we heal. But healing isn’t linear. Grief moves in waves, a constant state of flowing. Some days you might be surfing, flying high on top of the wave. Other days you might find yourself tumbling around like you’re in a washing machine, eventually being dragged out to sea by the tide. As I mentioned before, it isn’t a linear experience. There’s no timeline or guidelines to follow for how to handle grief. Everyone handles it differently. There are, however, five stages: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. I think of them more as five major symptoms because the word stages can imply there is a timeline. You will likely move through these often. In my experience, I’ve felt them all — even in the same day. Time has its way of helping in the healing process, but I’m not sure grief ever really goes away. The more likely truth is that we learn over time how to cope with our grief and hopefully our coping mechanisms are healthy ones.
Realizing The Presence of Grief It can be difficult to know what is actually present in our bodies, especially when our busy daily lives get in the way and we forget to check in with ourselves. It is a different experience for everyone. Typically, if you’re grieving, there are a few things you might feel that are considered common. You might have feelings of emptiness, anger, and/or sadness. You may find that you are having a hard time eating or sleeping — or in my case, both. It can seem at times like you have an inability to feel joy.
These can all be symptoms of many things: a bad day, hormonal shifts, and in more serious cases, depression. The problem with grief is that there isn’t just one treatment that cures or fixes it. We have to first connect with ourselves enough to know what we need in moments of grieving and then we can figure out how to heal ourselves.
Sometimes, You Just Have to Feel It I know — we all love to hate feelings. What if I don’t want to feel it? Isn’t it worse to feel how bad it hurts? Can’t I just push it all away? We shame ourselves out of accepting our feelings as truth and instead put on a brave face for our friends, family, and even ourselves. I’ve been watching “Shrinking” on Apple TV+, a show about therapy that deals almost exclusively with grief. In one episode, Dr. Paul (Harrison Ford) explains how he deals with grief when it comes up. He puts on his favorite song and sets a timer for fifteen minutes. Then, he allows himself to feel whatever emotions come up during that fifteen minute time slot. Once the alarm rings, he gathers himself, and goes about his day.
I don’t do that enough. For someone that preaches therapy and seeking help, I do a pretty damn good job at covering up what I’m really feeling. It almost always manifests as anger. My current therapist has been working with me on this technique called “sitting with it”, where you learn to feel things as they come. It doesn’t only apply to grief symptoms, but mainly any symptom that feels heavy. It teaches you to feel your feelings — your grief, sadness, anger, fear — without judgement. Judgement and shame are almost always the reason that we don’t allow ourselves to feel, but once we do, we can begin the healing process.
Both Things Can Be True For me, it’s been especially difficult to allow myself to feel both happy and sad about what has changed and what I’ve lost in my life. Giving myself the space to feel both has been incredibly empowering, but it isn’t always that easy. It takes constant work and practice, and I’m definitely not there yet.
One thing I try to remember is a tip my therapist gave me. She said when she feels her grief coming up, she imagines it sitting next to her on the couch like an old friend or a loving pet. She acknowledges the grief, allows it to sit next to her for a few minutes, and then she imagines herself getting up off the couch and continuing on with her day. It can be helpful to see it this way
because we are not our feelings. We are not our grief. We have feelings, and we have grief, but they are not who we are. We are capable of separating ourselves from it.
When I’m feeling lost in all of it, I try to do things for myself that I know will make me feel good. I go for walks, sit in the sun, listen to a song that makes me feel happy. I like to read, but you might find that your brain doesn’t feel like doing anything specific when you’re grieving, and that’s okay. Taking just a few minutes to love on yourself in whatever way you can will be helpful in helping you move through the emotions. Then, when you’re ready, you can pick yourself back up and carry on.
How do you cope with your feelings and grief? Let me know in the comments.
Try to remember that grieving takes time. Be kind to yourself as you move through it. If you feel like you need help, here are some resources:
The Center for Complicated Grief’s find a therapist tool
American Psychological Association’s Find a Psychologist tool
American Psychiatric Association’s Find a Psychiatrist tool
Asian Mental Health Collective’s therapist directory
Association of Black Psychologists’ Find a Psychologist tool
Grieving.com
Suicide Grief Support
Actively Moving Forward
Grief Healing Discussion Groups for Pet Loss
Cancer Care
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