Grief Gets Bigger, Not Smaller Pt.1 **trigger warning: death

Have you ever noticed that on the day we lose someone that is significant in our lives, we recognize that day forever. We always seem to feel it exactly one year later on the same day. "This is the day _______ passed."

I am no psychologist, but I see that as the grief coming back. Or perhaps, it never really left. It just shows up unannounced like a solicitor. You have to answer the door or the grief will huff and puff and will break your door down.

Lighting candles can often be a symbol of rememberance of someone that we've lost.

Ain't Nobody Got time for That

Sometimes when these tragedies strike, we do our very best to send the grief away, because the world is not built for us to process it properly. We are never taught grief like we are taught how to spell or read, or how to drive a car. We are just given it to manage in the best we know how.

We are busy. We have jobs, families, bills to pay, the house to clean and we also need to make sure kids/pets are fed and warm. The laundry is piling up and we have appointments to go to.

Wait, what? You want me to sit with this? You want me to FEEL it? Nope. Absolutely not. We get ONE day where we will all collectively cry, remember, and say nice things about ________. There are company handbooks and policies that strictly outline how long we are allowed to grieve away from work and specifically who we can grieve for. Often times proof is required. They call it bereavement leave, as if that will make it sound compassionate.

Nobody actually means it when they say "take all the time you need" because what if that is forever? The world does not care about the fact that if I sit too long and think about how much I am so incredibly heartbroken, I may fall into a complete maelstrom of despair and I will never return. So we send it away. We're not sure where, but it's gone for now. That's all that matters.

Please forgive me. Like many, I use humour to help me cope.

So where does grief go when you do not acknowledge it?

Where did it go you ask? I can't give the real answer. There are probably textbooks and professionals much brighter than me to explain in detail the stages of grief and how it should be properly processed. Don't come at me for being an armchair psychologist. This is my personal experience. This is how I have felt grief.

It didn't go anywhere. It attached itself to my nervous system like a leech on my back. I never really saw it. I could feel it, but I could also ignore it. Until it got too big.

Knowing now, what I didn't know then... salt that b*****. Chances are that it will drain every ounce of you while you are busy ignoring it, then there will be a day that it simply drops you.

It happens so often on the anniversary. Like I had mentioned, grief is attached to your nervous system. The nervous system keeps track of things for you, whether you want it to or not. That's it's job. If you are being chased by predators, you will be blasted with chemicals and hormones released by your amygdala to give you the strength, energy and understanding to RUN. Your decision making skills will have no part of the process. Your body will just feel like it needs to protect itself the same way we feel like we need to inhale after we exhale.

Grief will remind you that this is the day your life broke, so that it can protect you from whatever the heck that was. It says to you "hey, remember how awful that felt?" Like I said, nobody taught us grief. On this day last year, 2 years ago, 10 years ago was the day that I met with this grief. Except we can't un-feel it. IT's not like touching a hot stove and your brain telling you "well, don't do THAT again." We kind of just have to feel it. We have to go through it, again. I can't explain why. It sucks.

My experience

My experience with grief feels complicated. In reality, it's most likely not simple for anyone, but I can't speak for others. That's why when someone around me is experiencing their own grief, I do not say "I know how you feel". Even if it seems like the exact same situation, there is still one major difference. I am not them. I do not know how they feel, nor am I owed an explanation.

The tiger lily was the flower I chose for my dad's funeral. I did not really know anything about funerals, or flowers at the time.

I took one tiger lily from my dad's funeral. When I got married in 2015, I made my own bouquet and added the lily to it.

When my dad passed away in 2011, I got a lot of sympathy. Many would give me hugs, or simply give me a really sympathetic look. But it was the ones that told me the things I simply could not believe that confused me. Things like "he's in a better place now", "I know how you feel, I also have lost my dad", or the worst one "it will get better".

Most of these responses were from people who did not even know my dad. Some of them didn't even know me. Certainly nobody knew the relationship that I had with him. How can they know any of that?! But it's all ok. I suspect nobody is coming from a place of malice. My grief is my own to process and having those around me that simply sat next to me without speaking, or expecting me to respond. Some made me laugh. Others allowed me to sleep, because at the time that is what felt safest to me. Those who knew him told stories. It all helped. Just like grief, we are never really taught how to help others who are grieving.

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As this post is getting very long, I will soon post a second part. I appreciate all who stay and read my ramblings, thoughts, and stories. As always, I am not a professional therapist. I do not give official advice, nor do I have all of the answers. I am not always correct however I do speak with authenticity. They are true to me. I am grateful if anything I say resonates, even with only one person. I will focus on part 2 and upload soon. In the meantime, I will leave this quote by the Dalai Lama XIV on love:

“grief is the reminder of the depth of our love. Without love, there is no grief. So when we feel our grief, uncomfortable and aching as it may be, it is actually a reminder of the beauty of that love, now lost." -Dalai Lama XIV, The Book of Joy: Lasting Happiness in a Changing World