There were times a few years back during a very traumatic time of my life that I was submerged in a daily, heavy grief. I would go to bed and wonder if I’d wake up. Maybe the grief would just take me in the night. I was ok with that. Because waking up to it again took my breath away. My brain would actually feel like it was cramping. It literally could not compute. Eventually through accepting the new reality of my life I began to heal. But my brain and life forever changed. God used that to make me into a version I was hoping to become one day but my plan was to get there without any suffering required. His plan was what I needed to be who I am today and to be that also for those He’s placed in my path. He’s near to the brokenhearted and that nearness, eventually felt, has made me whole, but my body remembers the days of grief and so we limp together.
That Scripture broke my free fall of grief during the darker days when I was sure He had either abandoned me or He didn't exist at all. I think He's even nearer to the ones who can't detect His presence.
I'll be honest. I don't know if it's okay to do this here on another author's page or thread. And I don't do so for any promotion reasons, that's not my cup of tea. I just know when I was deep in grief I felt so utterly alone. I wrote this yesterday as I continue to process grief I thought I'd conquered. Hope it helps someone not feel alone.
Thanks for this, although I need to thank the Trinity for the timelines of this particular post. Ten years ago I was in the room as the EMTS declared my 26 year old son dead, 2 years later I was with my mother as she passed, and in 2022 I sat vigil with my SIL as her husband died. Add in covid, and working in a psychiatric hospital throughout this, a Goddaughter who not only had a 2 year old daughter who was diagnosed with cancer, who thankfully survived but she also had an a newborn who passed away after a month and a half. Every major role and way that I have identified myself as has changed in the last year as well.
Through all of this I have learned how to cling to Jesus in a way that I have never experienced before. And I have also had those moments of brain freeze/fog that you wrote about.I used to RUN from people who have lives like mine. Now I can use my transformed heart into gently being present with and for others. I have begun to study Spiritual direction as well. A friend shared your blog with me a month ago and I have been very fed by your sharing of your life experiences
Hey Lisa, thanks for posting. That much loss can just feel disfiguring, and I guess in a way it is. Having a heart that is transformed into one that can be present to another's pain is a gruesome and beautiful thing. Glad you're here.
I welcome you into the circle of Spiritual Directors and Wounded Healers (not that we do the healing but we accompany those on this path). Be blessed in drawing near to Jesus our Lord whose own suffering became our salvation.
Nadia, I've lost count of the times I've grieved, the deaths of both my parents, my 4 siblings, 2 failed marriages, too many relatives, too many friends, too many friendships gone awry, and I've never found a formula, only a ramshackle list of what not to do (and that mostly by trial and error) and the only thing that seems to work is to lose myself in the needs of others - to dismiss that "I" that I seem to want to talk to in my head - even though it keeps whispering "I need you, I need you". No, I don't. Others need me. That's Like our own deaths, grief is only a doorway, not a destination
The griefs we all experience and suffer through are "boxes of darkness." The perseverance to endure is the gift we give ourselves and the path forward.
Bernadette - This suggests the darkness is part of the life experience, no? And that we may move forward with deeper understanding of the good when we experience the hard? At least, I find meaning in some of the darkness this way.
Oct 2022 ... I had just moved from NY Madrid to start an adventure as an English language teacher in a high school. My first week was a success and I had my head held high. Then the phone call came. I knew the minute I heard my father's voice that something was wrong, really wrong. My 17 year old niece Taylor was found dead in bed that morning ... a f*cking eating disorder the cause. Literal shock.
Screaming the whole way home from the metro station. 'Really God, 5 years ago, my younger brother dies of an overdose at 42, and now his only daughter is gone too!?!? Wait, I just hugged her frail body three weeks ago before boarding the plane to come to Spain. I knew she wasn't well, but no, this can't be possible'
How do i grieve without losing my mind? I stay sober a day at a time. I talk to them and about them. I dream about them. I remember them. I follow my instinct when it tells me to do something -- Last week I flew home on a whim to watch my surviving niece Gianna play Beth in her middle school production of Little Women. I watch the scene where she has contracted scarlet fever and she sings a lovely duet with her older sister while they fly a kite on the beach. I listen as she sings about not being afraid to die. I know it's Taylor speaking through Gianna and I sob through three performances. I hold hands with my sister, and my mother, as we watch the scene. I start to notice kites: a pin on my dresser, a scene in a movie on the plane back to Spain, a lesson in school about kite flying in the Bahamas for Easter representing resurrection. I pay attention. I grieve one smile, one tear, one memory, one kite at a time.
Just a thought…It is not a requirement of our grieving that we “grow” even though we just might. Still healing, but on the way. Wasn’t that long ago I didn’t believe it possible. Be gentle with yourselves.
That last line. My aunt told us that when our son was seriously injured in a farm accident and we were grieving the life he wouldn't have anymore. I have kept those words in my heart through my husband's cancer, my mom's cancer, my brother's tragic death, and my dad's long dying and death. Grief changes us and can help us grow, although we often don't recognize that until much later. But I don't believe we are given these burdens and struggles in order that we grow. We just have to navigate through the bad times, do the best we can at the moment, do what we need to do to keep going. Being gentle with ourselves lets that happen.
When I entered into therapy some years ago, I worked with a couple different therapists. Each provided their own type of wisdom and guidance which helped me greatly. One of them led with advice which mirrored, "be gentle with yourself." He taught me to accept myself with more graceful understanding. It made all the difference.
I have a question for those who have the large faith to "lean on Jesus." What does that feel like, in your brain and heart? How do you accomplish the leaning? I would like to be able to feel supported by my faith but I'm not sure how that all works in a practical way.
I also think that some people have the wiring to experience it and others don't - not sure we can will it to happen. some people can match pitch and some are tone deaf...it's not a failing to not happen to have that ability.
Right? I place my hands over my heart and breathe. I become my own witness to the pain and the grief, the confusion and the frustration of what is. It helps me to remember I don’t have the answers nor do I need to find them. Jesus is the answer and that may seem trite, but the mystery of that and allowing myself not to try to lay hold of the mystery but just let it be, just like my pain, it releases something in me. Like I’m letting myself off the hook for not being my own Savior.
Yesterday I kept saying to my self Peace. Peace. I’ve had to relearn how to use scripture due to so much baggage and triteness. From myself sometimes! If I stick with words of Jesus it really does feel like he is saying them to me. My Peace I give you Ruth. I repeat it over and over till I sort of believe it. It physically helps me and I love to do it moving through my day. It’s my form of walking mediation. It helps my brain. But everyday is different. I choose different words that bring me comfort. I love your practical questions and wish you peace today. I need that too. Life is too hard for ethereal.
Kake, for me, it was an intellectual knowing not a 'feeling' because I was so traumatized by my loss. I was not able to pray so I relied on the Holy Spirit to intercede on my behalf. The fact that I survived each day validated for me that God was present. I had to remind myself repeatedly, there is nothing I can do to change this. Prayers for peace and comfort.
Not only "this is actually happening" but also "there is nothing I an do to change this."
[Exhaling]
... so there is only, therefore what can I do in response, now that this is here, now that I am here, now that this world is here and this is the universe I live in... and let myself off the hook and stop looking for a way for this to be different or not here.
Honestly, I never understood the concept of "leaning on Jesus," but I think that's because it's not how I work my spirituality. For me, it's sort of a matter of faith (that I will survive this) and the actions of allowing myself to go through the process of grieving. What it feels like is .... I guess I'd say it's like having permission to feel awful and to be weepy and to take everything as slowly as I need to for as long as I need to. The only reason I can be gentle with myself during periods of grief is because I truly believe there will be a day when I'm not having this kind of pain. It's kind of a weird duality, but I don't question it because I know it's possible to feel one way in the moment while knowing I won't feel this way in the future. Does that make sense? To me, faith is an act of will. When I'm really low, I think of faith as a tiny seed of sanity in my brain that is growing slowly each day that I choose to believe that it will grow.
I don't know. Maybe it's just psycho-babble, but that's how it feels to me.
I'm with you. Similarly, for me, "...resting in the arms of Jesus" in reference to a loved one who has passed no longer brings me comfort. I just need to be able to say goodbye. I'm not really interested in platitudes anymore. Are they resting in the arms of Jesus? ...Maybe? I don't know. But I know I miss my loved one.
The "NO" that you speak of is the loudest no ever spoken, screamed. It longs to find some edges for which to attach itself to, in some feeble attempt to consolidate, wrap up or protect, but instead, it keeps echoing into the unknown, or at least that's what I thought. I thought it had no receiver of its message. But I was wrong. It is one of the most primal screams, that, today, I have come to understand as stemming from the womb, echoing to all the wombs, perhaps beginning with Mary's womb. I have considered a Web of Wombs connecting, not out of choice, but out of the natural rhythm of womb energy. I remember the "NO" I screamed when my brother was murdered, me holding my pregnant baby. I remember that same "NO" when my second brother was murdered twenty two years later, again pregnant with child. One enters, one exists. The primal scream is a mystery that reminds us of the necessity to trust, it reminds us of our strongest desire to hold on.Grief reminds us that we do lose our mind, and we don't "get over"it, We're not suppose to. In silence and tears we notice that we rock our wombs in unison with the others, It is an emotion that, if you allow, can bring you into such a deepening of faith and an intimate relationship with Jesus. All the while, we allo it to take the necessary time for things to be ugly, unfair, hateful, evil, hollow, and so much more. That,I believe, is why it is so important to not move someone who is grieving, but to breathe with them, breathe for them, and make space for their "NO".
This letting go thing hurts. I learned very young to not have expectations of others that they could not do, for whatever reason…then to not value things above people…currently realizing the inability to see facts and apply them to actions taken is creating a fantasy land I don’t want to inhabit…letting go and taking control…there is a tension there…I lose my mind at least once a day…but I am choosing nature, busyness or music…not avoidances like gambling, alcohol, or drugs. Thank you Nadia for sharing this deeply personal experience…it helps.
The message I need comes exactly at the right time. Somehow, God appears. While God is always there, there is a moment when our ears are open to receive. To be conscious.
Please know your work has so much meaning and is a blessing.
I remember vividly stepping into the elevator in the hospital and collapsing to the floor telling everyone -- my son just died. The most defining moment of my life sent me into what I have called an alternate reality. I wanted it to be apparent to everyone I saw that I was functioning on a different level --but the world just goes on. It took me about 5 years to be able to go forward in my life journey. Some days the tsunami still hits but not as often.
I imagine there might be a sense of, "life before that moment," and, "life after that moment." May the memories of the days before bring something meaningful to the days after.
Thank you for this. I’ve been in similar life-altering and tragic situations and I’m grateful for the friends who overpacked when I needed them - and just recently I overpacked for another friend. ☯️☮️💟
Gentle writing, thank you. As I progress farther into my elder years, more and more of those people who have been part of my life for 60 and 70+ years are leaving to return home and always there is another loss, a void, and so many memories of our connections here in this realm. I d not know precisely what comes after this earthly life, but I do know that it is engulfed in the un dying, unconditional love that is our God. I have not lost anyone close to extreme violence which I can only feel must cause a jagged tear in the soul, but have lost a few in terrible road accidents and a firey helicopter crash and those sudden losses are always a shock. Most others have been “expected” due to frailty and older years or a progressive illness. I can only feel some gratitude when the leaving is gentle and peaceful, but the sense of loss and grief is still there and my only choice is to hold that grief with love and tenderness.
There were times a few years back during a very traumatic time of my life that I was submerged in a daily, heavy grief. I would go to bed and wonder if I’d wake up. Maybe the grief would just take me in the night. I was ok with that. Because waking up to it again took my breath away. My brain would actually feel like it was cramping. It literally could not compute. Eventually through accepting the new reality of my life I began to heal. But my brain and life forever changed. God used that to make me into a version I was hoping to become one day but my plan was to get there without any suffering required. His plan was what I needed to be who I am today and to be that also for those He’s placed in my path. He’s near to the brokenhearted and that nearness, eventually felt, has made me whole, but my body remembers the days of grief and so we limp together.
He is near the brokenhearted indeed.
That Scripture broke my free fall of grief during the darker days when I was sure He had either abandoned me or He didn't exist at all. I think He's even nearer to the ones who can't detect His presence.
I'll be honest. I don't know if it's okay to do this here on another author's page or thread. And I don't do so for any promotion reasons, that's not my cup of tea. I just know when I was deep in grief I felt so utterly alone. I wrote this yesterday as I continue to process grief I thought I'd conquered. Hope it helps someone not feel alone.
https://open.substack.com/pub/herevergreensoul/p/making-peace-with-grief?r=ce81q&utm_campaign=post&utm_medium=web&showWelcomeOnShare=true
He is so near to the brokenhearted. And I'm so grateful for that!
Nadia,
Thanks for this, although I need to thank the Trinity for the timelines of this particular post. Ten years ago I was in the room as the EMTS declared my 26 year old son dead, 2 years later I was with my mother as she passed, and in 2022 I sat vigil with my SIL as her husband died. Add in covid, and working in a psychiatric hospital throughout this, a Goddaughter who not only had a 2 year old daughter who was diagnosed with cancer, who thankfully survived but she also had an a newborn who passed away after a month and a half. Every major role and way that I have identified myself as has changed in the last year as well.
Through all of this I have learned how to cling to Jesus in a way that I have never experienced before. And I have also had those moments of brain freeze/fog that you wrote about.I used to RUN from people who have lives like mine. Now I can use my transformed heart into gently being present with and for others. I have begun to study Spiritual direction as well. A friend shared your blog with me a month ago and I have been very fed by your sharing of your life experiences
Hey Lisa, thanks for posting. That much loss can just feel disfiguring, and I guess in a way it is. Having a heart that is transformed into one that can be present to another's pain is a gruesome and beautiful thing. Glad you're here.
I welcome you into the circle of Spiritual Directors and Wounded Healers (not that we do the healing but we accompany those on this path). Be blessed in drawing near to Jesus our Lord whose own suffering became our salvation.
Thank you ❤🙏❤
Nadia, I've lost count of the times I've grieved, the deaths of both my parents, my 4 siblings, 2 failed marriages, too many relatives, too many friends, too many friendships gone awry, and I've never found a formula, only a ramshackle list of what not to do (and that mostly by trial and error) and the only thing that seems to work is to lose myself in the needs of others - to dismiss that "I" that I seem to want to talk to in my head - even though it keeps whispering "I need you, I need you". No, I don't. Others need me. That's Like our own deaths, grief is only a doorway, not a destination
Mary Oliver wrote:
"Someone I loved once
gave me a box full of darkness.
It took me years to understand that
this, too, was a gift.”
The griefs we all experience and suffer through are "boxes of darkness." The perseverance to endure is the gift we give ourselves and the path forward.
Bernadette - This suggests the darkness is part of the life experience, no? And that we may move forward with deeper understanding of the good when we experience the hard? At least, I find meaning in some of the darkness this way.
Thank You Nadia, I am going through some difficult times and your writing often brings tears
of healing to me. Blessings for your words. . .
Oct 2022 ... I had just moved from NY Madrid to start an adventure as an English language teacher in a high school. My first week was a success and I had my head held high. Then the phone call came. I knew the minute I heard my father's voice that something was wrong, really wrong. My 17 year old niece Taylor was found dead in bed that morning ... a f*cking eating disorder the cause. Literal shock.
Screaming the whole way home from the metro station. 'Really God, 5 years ago, my younger brother dies of an overdose at 42, and now his only daughter is gone too!?!? Wait, I just hugged her frail body three weeks ago before boarding the plane to come to Spain. I knew she wasn't well, but no, this can't be possible'
How do i grieve without losing my mind? I stay sober a day at a time. I talk to them and about them. I dream about them. I remember them. I follow my instinct when it tells me to do something -- Last week I flew home on a whim to watch my surviving niece Gianna play Beth in her middle school production of Little Women. I watch the scene where she has contracted scarlet fever and she sings a lovely duet with her older sister while they fly a kite on the beach. I listen as she sings about not being afraid to die. I know it's Taylor speaking through Gianna and I sob through three performances. I hold hands with my sister, and my mother, as we watch the scene. I start to notice kites: a pin on my dresser, a scene in a movie on the plane back to Spain, a lesson in school about kite flying in the Bahamas for Easter representing resurrection. I pay attention. I grieve one smile, one tear, one memory, one kite at a time.
Yes to all of this. xo
Just a thought…It is not a requirement of our grieving that we “grow” even though we just might. Still healing, but on the way. Wasn’t that long ago I didn’t believe it possible. Be gentle with yourselves.
That last line. My aunt told us that when our son was seriously injured in a farm accident and we were grieving the life he wouldn't have anymore. I have kept those words in my heart through my husband's cancer, my mom's cancer, my brother's tragic death, and my dad's long dying and death. Grief changes us and can help us grow, although we often don't recognize that until much later. But I don't believe we are given these burdens and struggles in order that we grow. We just have to navigate through the bad times, do the best we can at the moment, do what we need to do to keep going. Being gentle with ourselves lets that happen.
When I entered into therapy some years ago, I worked with a couple different therapists. Each provided their own type of wisdom and guidance which helped me greatly. One of them led with advice which mirrored, "be gentle with yourself." He taught me to accept myself with more graceful understanding. It made all the difference.
I have a question for those who have the large faith to "lean on Jesus." What does that feel like, in your brain and heart? How do you accomplish the leaning? I would like to be able to feel supported by my faith but I'm not sure how that all works in a practical way.
I also think that some people have the wiring to experience it and others don't - not sure we can will it to happen. some people can match pitch and some are tone deaf...it's not a failing to not happen to have that ability.
Can I have my wiring fixed? How do I do that?
Right? I place my hands over my heart and breathe. I become my own witness to the pain and the grief, the confusion and the frustration of what is. It helps me to remember I don’t have the answers nor do I need to find them. Jesus is the answer and that may seem trite, but the mystery of that and allowing myself not to try to lay hold of the mystery but just let it be, just like my pain, it releases something in me. Like I’m letting myself off the hook for not being my own Savior.
Yesterday I kept saying to my self Peace. Peace. I’ve had to relearn how to use scripture due to so much baggage and triteness. From myself sometimes! If I stick with words of Jesus it really does feel like he is saying them to me. My Peace I give you Ruth. I repeat it over and over till I sort of believe it. It physically helps me and I love to do it moving through my day. It’s my form of walking mediation. It helps my brain. But everyday is different. I choose different words that bring me comfort. I love your practical questions and wish you peace today. I need that too. Life is too hard for ethereal.
Thank you so much for your practical suggestion.
Kake, for me, it was an intellectual knowing not a 'feeling' because I was so traumatized by my loss. I was not able to pray so I relied on the Holy Spirit to intercede on my behalf. The fact that I survived each day validated for me that God was present. I had to remind myself repeatedly, there is nothing I can do to change this. Prayers for peace and comfort.
Not only "this is actually happening" but also "there is nothing I an do to change this."
[Exhaling]
... so there is only, therefore what can I do in response, now that this is here, now that I am here, now that this world is here and this is the universe I live in... and let myself off the hook and stop looking for a way for this to be different or not here.
Thank you. Your response is helpful.
Honestly, I never understood the concept of "leaning on Jesus," but I think that's because it's not how I work my spirituality. For me, it's sort of a matter of faith (that I will survive this) and the actions of allowing myself to go through the process of grieving. What it feels like is .... I guess I'd say it's like having permission to feel awful and to be weepy and to take everything as slowly as I need to for as long as I need to. The only reason I can be gentle with myself during periods of grief is because I truly believe there will be a day when I'm not having this kind of pain. It's kind of a weird duality, but I don't question it because I know it's possible to feel one way in the moment while knowing I won't feel this way in the future. Does that make sense? To me, faith is an act of will. When I'm really low, I think of faith as a tiny seed of sanity in my brain that is growing slowly each day that I choose to believe that it will grow.
I don't know. Maybe it's just psycho-babble, but that's how it feels to me.
I'm with you. Similarly, for me, "...resting in the arms of Jesus" in reference to a loved one who has passed no longer brings me comfort. I just need to be able to say goodbye. I'm not really interested in platitudes anymore. Are they resting in the arms of Jesus? ...Maybe? I don't know. But I know I miss my loved one.
Thoughts on Grief
By Katherine Netzer
Grief comes with its own
Needles sharp enough to pierce
The soul.
It jabs its way to the surface
And claws tears from already weary eyes.
It folds the heart to breaking.
Backs bend under its weight
As the bearers stagger across the day.
Breaths come in great gulps and gasps.
Grief can not be swallowed whole.
It must be bitten and chewed in tiny bits.
It steamrolls into lives.
To flatten laughter, safety.
Icy fingers touch each memory.
Grief demands, demands exhaustion.
And, unravels the fabric of life
Leaving only the thinnest thread.
Love this
The thinnest thread… thin places are some of the most awful and awe-full and Holy.
The "NO" that you speak of is the loudest no ever spoken, screamed. It longs to find some edges for which to attach itself to, in some feeble attempt to consolidate, wrap up or protect, but instead, it keeps echoing into the unknown, or at least that's what I thought. I thought it had no receiver of its message. But I was wrong. It is one of the most primal screams, that, today, I have come to understand as stemming from the womb, echoing to all the wombs, perhaps beginning with Mary's womb. I have considered a Web of Wombs connecting, not out of choice, but out of the natural rhythm of womb energy. I remember the "NO" I screamed when my brother was murdered, me holding my pregnant baby. I remember that same "NO" when my second brother was murdered twenty two years later, again pregnant with child. One enters, one exists. The primal scream is a mystery that reminds us of the necessity to trust, it reminds us of our strongest desire to hold on.Grief reminds us that we do lose our mind, and we don't "get over"it, We're not suppose to. In silence and tears we notice that we rock our wombs in unison with the others, It is an emotion that, if you allow, can bring you into such a deepening of faith and an intimate relationship with Jesus. All the while, we allo it to take the necessary time for things to be ugly, unfair, hateful, evil, hollow, and so much more. That,I believe, is why it is so important to not move someone who is grieving, but to breathe with them, breathe for them, and make space for their "NO".
Beautiful, haunting, and true. Thanks, a.c.
This letting go thing hurts. I learned very young to not have expectations of others that they could not do, for whatever reason…then to not value things above people…currently realizing the inability to see facts and apply them to actions taken is creating a fantasy land I don’t want to inhabit…letting go and taking control…there is a tension there…I lose my mind at least once a day…but I am choosing nature, busyness or music…not avoidances like gambling, alcohol, or drugs. Thank you Nadia for sharing this deeply personal experience…it helps.
maturity is hard.
Expecting it of others in my age group (70’s) is a re-learning of lessons thought imbedded. :)
Definitely. And, unfortunately, again and again.
So grateful that you wrote this - a feeling I have pretty frequently when I read your work.
The message I need comes exactly at the right time. Somehow, God appears. While God is always there, there is a moment when our ears are open to receive. To be conscious.
Please know your work has so much meaning and is a blessing.
Thank you, Irene.
I remember vividly stepping into the elevator in the hospital and collapsing to the floor telling everyone -- my son just died. The most defining moment of my life sent me into what I have called an alternate reality. I wanted it to be apparent to everyone I saw that I was functioning on a different level --but the world just goes on. It took me about 5 years to be able to go forward in my life journey. Some days the tsunami still hits but not as often.
Makes all the sense in the world. 💔
I imagine there might be a sense of, "life before that moment," and, "life after that moment." May the memories of the days before bring something meaningful to the days after.
Thank you for this. I’ve been in similar life-altering and tragic situations and I’m grateful for the friends who overpacked when I needed them - and just recently I overpacked for another friend. ☯️☮️💟
That's just how this thing works, huh?
I’m all about reciprocation and building a circle of support. Blessings to you, always!
Gentle writing, thank you. As I progress farther into my elder years, more and more of those people who have been part of my life for 60 and 70+ years are leaving to return home and always there is another loss, a void, and so many memories of our connections here in this realm. I d not know precisely what comes after this earthly life, but I do know that it is engulfed in the un dying, unconditional love that is our God. I have not lost anyone close to extreme violence which I can only feel must cause a jagged tear in the soul, but have lost a few in terrible road accidents and a firey helicopter crash and those sudden losses are always a shock. Most others have been “expected” due to frailty and older years or a progressive illness. I can only feel some gratitude when the leaving is gentle and peaceful, but the sense of loss and grief is still there and my only choice is to hold that grief with love and tenderness.