On grieving: One moment you want to cry and the next you want to laugh. One moment you feel relief and the next you feel guilt…for feeling relief. I get it.
I’ve been through both a divorce and the death of my fiancé. These grieving seasons are dark, impossibly hard, and lonely, especially in a society uncomfortable with the topic of grief.
So, let’s talk about grief, shall we? (If you are interested in the essays from my upcoming memoir called Living in the Ashes, visit here.)
I know it’s overwhelming. It feels as though the darkness will never pass. If it helps, you are not alone in feeling this way. And it will get lighter.
Your grief does not define you. You can grieve and laugh at the same time. You can miss someone with your entire body and love another with that same body. This is a place where you are not labeled as a person in grief but rather a person undergoing a transformation. This is also where we talk openly about the hard stuff.
I was thrust into the caretaker position when my robust, healthy, 40-year-old boyfriend was diagnosed with advanced esophageal cancer on Valentine’s Day of 2017. He was gone less than four months later.
If you have been in this position, you will relate to some of these posts. I hope they help you. You are a hero.
If you are seeking to help a loved one who is either a caretaker or who has lost someone special, these posts may help you, too.
Sometimes your world turns upside down. A breakup, a lost job, a divorce, a death, all of these things necessitate a period of grief. We often ignore our need to grieve by smothering our emotions or throwing ourselves into work or family.
I have experienced all of the life transitions described above. When my marriage suddenly collapsed, I ignored my grief. Ten years later, when my fiancé died, I chose to honor my grief. I learned from both experiences, and I can tell you that listening to your grief is necessary soul work.