50 Stages Of Grief

As I am a witness to the changes in the lives of those around me, and the vast changes in my own life, I can see grief being displayed in a variety of ways. Some people cry- either softly to themselves, silently in the shower, or loudly while clinging to loved ones. Some people withdraw while some people want to be surrounded by those they trust. Some people seem perfectly normal, yet their minds swirl with questions and emotions. We forget how to smile; we forget what normal feels like.

We grieve the losses in our life. It doesn’t matter what kind of loss we are experiencing, or how it came about. It doesn’t matter whether we chose to quit a job, undersell that house we love yet can’t afford, or walk away from the relationship that is no longer working. We can choose it or it can choose us. A loss is a loss and the grief we feel after is real, deep and complicated.

I am grieving many losses right now. I’m grieving relationships, people changing and leaving my life, the loss of my old self, the loss of the image I thought I had in other people’s eyes. I’m grieving the ends of eras. While my future was uncertain, there was still some sort of answer to my questions; now there are even fewer answers. I’m grieving the loss of my answers, even if they weren’t the right answers.

I become paralyzed in my grief. I cry occasionally, usually really ugly crying privately in my house. I stop doing laundry, I stop wearing my contacts, and I stop wearing jeans. I decline eating out and prefer the comfort of my Lululemon pants. I eat comfort foods, watch Friends, and drink lots of red wine. I journal and blog. I share my feelings with a few people closest to me. I repeat my mantras.

I know that it will all pass. Until then, I’m accepting the various stages and shades of my grief. I’m facing the storm, finding my way through.

WTF are you grieving?

Straight Into The Storm

When I was in Cleveland earlier this month, I did something I’ve never done before. I walked into a bar by myself, ordered a drink, and struck up a conversation with the guy next to me. My only goal was to be vulnerable, to sit somewhere by myself and try to connect with a stranger. Thankfully, the guy didn’t shoot me down and I ended up chatting with him and his friends, joining their bowling night, and had a great time. I walked away that night with a renewed sense of community and a great vibe for Cleveland. When you put yourself out there, there is no telling whom you might connect with.

Over the course of the night and the various conversations, we shared some stories about our lives, relationships and families. They were a pretty open and warm group and I instantly felt comfortable. One of the guys, Nick, shared a saying that resonated with me at this point in time:

            The cows walk right into the storm.

Whatever troubles we have, adversities we are facing, there is no other way to face them than head on. In order to truly confront them, deal with our strong emotions, and come out the other side a stronger individual, we must charge head on into the storm. We can try to ignore what we feel or mask it with something else. We can try to escape the storm but then we will simply be running from it. We will be operating from a place of fear rather than a place of strength and empowerment.

We must walk right into the storm. There is no other way.

WTF are you shying away from?