When a loss happens, it's natural to want to solve it right away. To do something, anything to make it better. But staring a grief support group too early can be counter productive.
These early days of grief remind me of something important.
Early on, there is a tendency to move away from the reality of the loss. This is a protective response of the heart.
I see this in myself. Instead of using yoga as a way to process what I'm feeling, I've been using it as a distraction. I want my practice to be sweaty and muscley and fast...not a lot of time to think or feel. This is what I need right now. It would be counter productive to the needs of my heart and spirit to force exploring emotions that I'm not ready to feel.
As time passes (and there is no set timeline), and numbness wears off, you will naturally move towards the pain and realities of the loss. It's often as the numbness fades and the realities of living with loss set in, that more support is needed. It is then, that a class like Yoga for Grief Support may be helpful.
In the Yoga for Grief Support program, we use yoga and meditation as a way to "go inside" and explore the pain and reality of the loss. One has to be "ready" to do this. Starting too early may feel like you are driving with one foot on the gas and one foot on the brake.
In most cases (not all), it may take a number of weeks to a few months to be ready for a class like Yoga for Grief Support. Each circumstance is different, with a number of factors affecting someone's readiness. Sometimes, people start a group and realize it's too soon. That's OK too - it's impossible to know what this grief experience is like because each loss is so different.
If you want to explore this further with me, feel free to reach out via email.
I find the poem below, by Wendell Berry to be helpful when considering if you need specific grief support. Sometimes, it is when you don't know what to do, that you are ready to start.
It may be that when we no longer know what to do
November was a rough month in my world. On November 14th, after a two year illness, my Dad died. He had pulmonary fibrosis.
Over the past two years, I have been mentally drafting a blog post called: When It Happens Again.
IT being death and emotional trauma.
I remember feeling such protest as I was considering the fact that IT could (would) happen again. A deep revolt and fear around knowing what grief is like, and not wanting to go down that path again.
This mental blog post I had drafted was going to be a piece around how I would cope with grief the next time 'round, based on everything I had experience and learnt since the first time 'round.
I never did write that post.
I kind of wish that I had - then I could refer back to it as a little pep talk for myself.
Now that IT has happened, all the best laid plans I had mentally made, have dissolved into the cocoon of shock.
I'm steeped with numbness and shock that has dulled the realities of my outer and inner world.
My mind isn't working as quickly. I'm forgetful. I start 16 different tasks in a day and don't complete any of them. I didn't brush my hair or my teeth today and I have nothing to show for how busy I felt.
I don't feel the protest the way I thought I would. That must have burned itself out during my dad's illness as I watched him slowly (and then quickly) decline.
My anxiety is gone. I was paralyzed before his death about what was going to happen. Now it's happened and I've been relieved of that worry. That lack feels numb too.
And yet, the world says speed up when everything within my body and mind says slow down. I feel this tug of war in my gut and my chest and I dread having to navigate it; It takes so much extra energy.
I know the numbness and shock serves a purpose. The heart can't feel the full reality of the loss at once. It is not worth forcing myself out of this cocooned place.
My wise body/mind/spirit will naturally dose itself with the pain and the reality of the loss, in it's own time. My conscious mind may not be privy to this timeline.
So, what do I do?
I start right where I am.
Be gentle with myself.
I've noticed more intrusive thoughts in the past few days around the circumstances of his death. This too, I know is normal. Instinctual even. There is a natural tendency to go over it all, again and again. Cognitively trying to make sense of it.
While *the world* wants me to get on with living, and get back to life, I know that pausing, even going backwards into the past is important grief work. It makes the unreal real, and is an important part of processing the reality of the death.
I've found myself gently approaching the pain and reality a couple of nights ago. I drove by the hospital and looked up to the window that was his room. It made my chest ache. I want to live-backwards. I want to spend some time reviewing what-the-hell-just-happened.
I'll probably write it out. Get those thoughts out of my head and onto paper. I may even walk from where I would park my car, to the unit he was on, just to remember and feel it when I'm ready to.
But, who knows! Grief is unpredictable, and living-in-the-moment for me at this time means responding to whatever need arises, when it does.
It's all vital work. Grief work. Mourning work.
I do know that this time 'round I am part of (and can rely on) a community of people who "get it" to support me and I feel all those people in my cocoon with me.
This time 'round, I'm more open to receiving care and being cared for. That feels really nice.
Thank you. To those near and far, known to me and unknown. The grief warriors that live this every day.
We are not alone.
Subscribe by Email