“…Teach Me How To Grieve Without Breaking.”

 

I read a post that said “…teach me how to grieve without breaking.”

This sparked an intimate conversation between me and a friend. It was perhaps my response that initiated the conversation. I responded by saying “ask me how.”

Four years ago I shared the very sentiments. I knew I was hit; and quite badly even. I was so afraid to even admit it because I feared the admission of trauma will lead to a cascade of unruly emotions – emotions I wasn’t sure I had the capacity to even hold within me.

A close of mine likes to say winners start with the end in mind. Although this is very philosophical and somehow very motivating, it isn’t as easy put into practice. I know this because it’s how I’ve approached most of my life’s challenges. So let me try to unpack it. just a disclaimer – this is how I personally worked through grief. What worked for me, might not necessarily work for the next person.

The first, probably biggest mistake I did after burying my husband was to give myself a time frame for my healing. Although this is usually how we approach most goals, I’d soon discover it isn’t exactly the same way to approach the grief of a spouse. For one reason, everything was tied up in his name of memory. So it wasn’t a matter of putting his memory in a box and never opening it again. There were legal, financial (just to name a few) matters that did not allow me the luxury of dealing with just grief – so thinking I was going to be done grieving within six months was farfetched.

Although I could have pushed for the six months goal, I soon realized I wasn’t functioning at my full capacity. For those who don’t know, grief doesn’t just affect one’s mental state, but their physical state too. I was fatigued, I battled with sleep, my hair was literally falling off. I understood that pushing for this goal was not only unrealistic but also very dangerous to my health. There were days I’d avoid the pain of grief by masking it with sleep or shifting the focus onto urgent matters that needed my attention. But when quiet moments came – I’d find it waiting for me. It’d creep up from my subconscious and place me in a memory I couldn’t ignore and the paid with just hit like a wrecking ball. In that moment I’d have nowhere to run to, no distraction to appease it with. I’d be forced to weep and the more I wept, the more gruesome the pain felt. The pain felt like a punishment at that moment – as to say ‘why are you ignoring me?!’

This meant that I had to revisit my ‘grieving plan’ and accept that maybe allowing certain parts of me to break was meant to be part of the healing process. Here I was about to surrender to vulnerability. I knew for sure that this kind of grief was like nothing I’ve ever faced before – I earnestly hoped I would come out on top as I did with the others before. But with my past traumas, I’ve seldom had to be vulnerable. I used to view vulnerability as a breaking point, a point of no return and as something to be feared; but soon learned that’s how you allow the pain the chance to heal. I started giving the pain permission to be. I accepted its validity. I’d sit in meditation with my pain, and I’d just speak to it and say.

 ‘…I feel you. You have reason for existence. I’m not shutting you down nor am I saying you’re not valid – but I am saying today, at this moment I am going to accept you. I am going to give you today, these 24hours to let you be. Tomorrow, when I wake-up I want you to be sitting somewhere quietly. I still need to function in other spheres of my life because I’ve got rebuilding to do and I promise to give you space and attention again soon’

As weird as that might sound to others, it worked for me. Of course, it’s not the only thing I did to heal – there are other things I did as well, but since we’re talking about breaking; I find this ideal to share. It’s very important to understand the power of the subconscious mind and the use of psychotherapy. That’s where the epidemy of your healing lies. As I mentioned to a friend, "you have to understand the pain/trauma and know what exactly it’s bringing out of you; so you know what to deal with.

Is it bringing out anger, resentment, regret? If you understand that, then there’s a chance your grief will bring out better version of you, because you’ll  begin to work on those parts of you.

 

Yours in healing.

Fortunate Zungu-Ludaka.