I’m having one of those life experiences that people go through all the time, but rarely talk about.
My life is beautiful, wonderful, magical…
AND I’m dealing with grief that keeps overwhelming me to the point of not being able to do anything at all other than cry.
They say that current grief brings up past grief, which is comforting to know, as it gives more context to the experience. I’m not just grieving this one recent thing that happened, I am being met with everything I have ever lost all at once.
For a few weeks, this looked like not being able to eat much. Or sleep much.
Now, it looks like bursting into tears at any moment, coupled with an inability to do work. It is supremely inconvenient, as I have an astronomical amount of work to do this month.
I keep trying to strong-arm myself into working, but…
It turns out that grief doesn’t give a shit about your plans.
(I knew this, but it is among a huge list of things I need to keep re-learning in this life, apparently.)
I lost someone very special to me, not through death, but through a necessary parting of ways. On the other side of it, I know it was the right decision, and have had that affirmed in every possible way by myself, loved ones, healers, mentors, and the universe itself, sending me constant messages of “you did the right thing.”
And yet, it is still a loss.
My feelings are so swirly and confused that it’s difficult to even write about. It is a complicated form of grief.
This is also the time of the year when it seems everyone is experiencing grief, and I have noted this year after year since becoming a coach and being tuned in to the overall human consciousness in a greater way. December is always like this.
Add to it the anniversary of my mom’s passing coming up, and my friend’s continued battle with breast cancer, aaaand I could really see myself giving in and saying, you know what? It was a good try, December, but it’s not gonna happen. Try again next year.
I really can’t do that, though.
Actually… I could, but I don’t find it truly necessary.
So right now, I’m trying to strike the delicate balance between continuing to do my work, and also feeling my feelings.
I watched this documentary on Disney+ “Ed Sheeran: The Sum of it All”
I cannot recommend this highly enough. It is a 4 episode docu-series following Ed through his experiences of his wife getting cancer, and him losing his best friend.
To say it was resonant for me would be an outstanding understatement.
The best part happens in the third episode, and I promise that even though I am spoiling it right now, it won’t be totally spoiled, because the moment is too incredible. It’ll still hit…
He gets on stage for a private concert, and all of his songs are about grief and the loss of his friend. His intention is to power through the show (much like I keep trying to power through my work days) but instead he ends up bearing his soul to the audience, and has to stop playing multiple times because he’s crying. He processes his grief in front of a crowd of strangers, JUST LIKE A GREAT SINGER SONGWRITER SHOULD, IN MY OPINION.
He’s super embarrassed after, because he’s usually good at locking it all down and feels bad that “people came to be entertained and he just brought them down instead.”
In actuality, of course, the audience was moved to tears and beyond appreciative for being let into his inner world like that. As was I.
And so, here I am. I don’t have any songs to play, only jumbled bits of words that might one day become something. I have so many people supporting me, I could show you countless messages from my brilliant friends, but here’s the most recent from my friend Adam Quiney…
Lonely courage. Yep. That’s it, because even though my life is wonderful, beautiful, magical… the grief is mine alone to bear. In the dark, quiet moments. When I can’t sleep. When I’m in the car and a song sets me off and I pray the person next to me at the red light isn’t looking. When my daughter wants to cuddle, and I feel guilty that I don’t have more to give to her emotionally.
Or, right now, when I’m writing this instead of doing one of the many tasks on my list, because my intuition is telling me I need to process this out loud in order to move through it… since that is what I have done ever since I lost my mom.
When I hit publish, it will activate a magic spell. I will be able to move on to a task I’ve been putting off, and then another. I will step forward with one foot, and then bring the other one through as well. I will keep going. I will take pauses. I will keep going again. (Your comments on this post will help enormously. Not just me, but anyone who reads them.)
To anyone processing some heavy shit right now, know that you are not alone. And on that note…
Ed Sheeran wrote a lot of beautiful songs about loss, and they are all on his album, Subtract. But I’m going to point you to this one in particular, which has a brilliant music video. In the video, Ed is being followed around by a big blue fuzzy monster, which represents his grief.
My favorite part is towards the end of the video, when he passes by some strangers on the street, and they are also being followed around by their own fuzzy monsters in different shapes and colors.
So me and my fuzzy monster are gonna go get a few things done now. I hope you and your fuzzy monster have a great December <3
PS if anyone wants to get me this expensive blue monster hoodie, it seems like the perfect thing to cuddle up in and have a good cry.
I just read this, months after you wrote it, and just wanted to say thank you. This really resonated as I was going through a period of grief back in December as well. You're such a talented writer 💛
I appreciate you pulling out the courage required to grieve, and the loneliness which - isn't exactly a requirement, but a result of giving yourself over to the work. It can only be done alone.
I wrote about my experience of this early this year on this platform, in my grief season (June). I found that part of the grieving 'out loud' included actually talking to the one I was missing - this gave me a way bring to the surface the deep feelings that had been bringing me down.
Also writing helped. And sharing in grief circles and/or dharma sharing groups.
Go well on your grief journey.