Mindfully Moving Through Grief and Loss
/ VCSIt’s strange how time passes — how after the unthinkable occurs, life goes on. The sun rises and falls. Flowers bloom. Trees rustle in the wind. There is an eeriness to it and in the beginning it is tempting to stay lost in this space. We want to freeze time, capture it, hold on to it even if it doesn’t exist anymore because in some ways it feels as if it is all we have. We begin to live as if we are in the past. Some of us get stuck in this place. Trapped in time, we stop moving with life, stop flowing with it and it moves forward without us.
Grief, with all its horror and sadness and pain is disorienting. Like a rip tide, it comes into our lives and we get knocked off our feet. We struggle and resist against it, but what if this is like resisting the formation of the sky, the earth, gravity, and the very nature of life itself? Instead we must somehow learn to move with this grief, to relax into it. As time passes, we understand we will never live or flow again at the original current. And yet, with this flow, we find ourselves in a new rhythm and frequency of our lives, our spirits lifting higher, vibrating closer to our center, to peace. And we find that the waves have brought us home again.
If you enjoyed this post, you might also find my book, Grieving the Loss of a Love: How to Embrace Grief to Find True Hope and Healing After a Divorce, Breakup, or Death helpful.
This year, I am experimenting with an aspect of my life, which is faith. I’ve always felt a strong calling to write but been very afraid to really pursue it. When I examine this fear, I’m not sure what it’s really about. Perhaps it’s that I’m afraid my writing won’t result in anything, that it wouldn’t actually mean anything, or perhaps I’m afraid of facing myself.
A depression came on very suddenly. Perhaps it is this time of year with the holidays and constant travel — the grayness and limited sunlight of it all. Or perhaps it is that this time of year reminds me so much of Brian.
I remember why I first started to write. I was around 14 or so. It helped me make sense of myself back then. It was lonely growing up in that house. I was kind of a black sheep. Moody, depressed, and irritable. Back then emotions were felt and difficult to put into words. Over time I’ve found the words, but the original emotion sometimes becomes harder to find — lost, forgotten.
A few months ago, I became interested in lucid dreaming. Lucid dreaming is essentially where you ‘wake up’ in your dreams and become aware that you are dreaming. With this awareness, you gain the ability to affect what happens within your dreams. The more you practice this ability, the more you are able to shape the nature of your dreams.
Some days are really hard.
This is one of those days.
Today came out of the blue, unexpectedly, for no reason really.
Something strange happened to my grief, something that has been difficult to write about.
It faded.
I feel it much less these days.
I know it is a natural course of the grieving process, but it feels strange nonetheless.
n the beginning of my journey with grief, it was like a thick fog that went with me everywhere. It felt like I was a world away, living in a different realm, barely hanging on to this one.
However over time, the grief has lessened. My feelings about this have been mixed. On one hand, it is healthy and natural for grief to lessen. On the other, it feels a bit odd to live without feeling grief so intensely. Some days it feels as if a new person has emerged. And I must admit that I miss the grief that I once felt so deeply, as it was also so much tied with memories of the person I lost.