Grief: When Everything Feels Uncertain and Out of our Control
Over the past few weeks, I’ve returned again and again to my ever changing understanding of grief. I’ve had conversations about mortality, death, and the uncertainty we have no choice but sit with. Sometimes these conversations happen at a time of my choosing but usually, grief moves to the forefront because I’ve just encountered a sudden loss.
When we lose someone we care about, it’s a reminder that things can change in the blip of a moment. The last thing we said to our loved ones could be the last thing we ever say to them. It’s heavy. We can lose a beloved pet. A friendship. A pregnancy. A breakup can wipe out a future we once envisioned. We can grieve for a younger version of ourselves. Loss can make us question everything, even who we are.
The early stages of grief can feel like a thick fog
Then there’s the loss of a place we once knew. Over the course of a few weeks, I felt powerless as I watched hurricanes Helene and Milton tear through the part of the country where I grew up, one storm after the next. They churned out tornadoes, flooded entire geographic areas, and left countless communities without power, water, or a roof over their heads. In other parts of the country, it was a wildfire or a mudslide that triggered destruction. Those in the path of these natural disasters can lose the security they once knew in a matter of minutes. Conflict can erupt between warring groups. We can feel homesick for a town, or even an apartment we once called home.
We can experience the loss of a job or a career path we once felt certain about. A diagnosis or an injury can mean the loss of the lifestyle we once took for granted. Even the idea of loss, a recognition of life’s uncertainties and an acknowledgment that so much is out of our control can trigger spirals of anxiety.
Many of my clients have asked me, in the early stage of the fog that first accompanies loss, “what do I do?”
Loss hurts. It’s going to hurt for a while. We can’t fast forward through the pain. That being said, I thought I’d list a few of the things I talk about with my clients who find themselves in the early stages of grief.
How can we practice acceptance of the pain of loss, and acceptance of ourselves?
Acceptance is the final stage of the Kubler-Ross model of grief, following denial, anger, bargaining, and depression. Acceptance can feel like what we’re moving towards, but we can also practice acceptance in each moment while we’re getting there. We can accept how we’re grieving, and how we are handling it right now in this very moment. Not how we should be handing it. Try to catch the “shoulds” that come hurling in from the inner-critic — how we should be thinking, feeling, communicating, looking, dressing, responding, or coping. Each moment doesn’t have to be a major learning moment or a moment for growth. On some days, doing our best might look like getting out of our pajamas and taking a walk around the block.
Self-compassion
Self-compassion may sound similar to acceptance, but there’s more to it. There may be moments in which we feel accepting of the reality of what we’re going through, AND we can feel self-compassion for how human we are in this moment. Some days we can feel one but not the other. Other days we’ll feel neither. Acceptance and self-compassion are both foundations we need to practice, again and again. Self-compassion is not an end goal or a destination. It’s catching the ways in which we aren’t being kind to ourselves. It’s slowing down before jumping on the train of our overthinking minds. It’s catching our thoughts when we start comparing ourselves to others. It’s letting go of the analysis paralysis fueled by the need to get this right. It’s letting ourselves off the hook, at least for the moment. Again, grief is heavy.
Create a routine, or at least aim for one
A sunset walk in the San Francisco Bay Area
This is another opportunity to practice acceptance that we won’t always get it right. One of the best things we can do when we experience loss is to give ourselves some structure. This is good for our bodies and for our minds. If possible, try to lay your body down to sleep at around the same time in the evenings, and get out of bed at around the same time each morning. This consistency can mean more to our bodies than the number of hours slept. Similarly, try to walk yourself through some of the rituals that once made up a normal day. What time would you have that first cup of coffee? Which window of time does your body usually anticipate a meal? Try to eat a little something in that window, even if your appetite is waning. Do you usually take a short walk around 2pm? Try to do that walk, even if it’s minimal. Go outside, at least. Routine can be a source of comfort and familiarity. It can calm our nervous system, especially for those who are highly sensitive.
Call the people who love you
When I working in crisis counseling, we called this our “network of support”. Sometimes this can be a family member or a partner, but it doesn’t have to be. It can be a friend, a mentor, an old neighbor, your bestie from high school, or even your dog walker. It doesn’t have to be a grand request for SUPPORT. Loss can make us feel isolated and alone. Connection is what we’re aiming for. You’ll probably feel like a burden. You might tell yourself that you’re a drag to be around right now. It’ll likely be uncomfortable. When it comes to hard choices, you want to choose the discomfort of reaching out over the discomfort of isolation. Being around people in person is best, but lean on Facetime, a phone call, a handwritten note, or a text message if it means connecting with people who love you. And if your thoughts are telling you that you’re unloved or unloveable, try walking around your community and smiling or nodding at a few friendly faces (or dogs) until the feeling passes.
Attend the rituals
The rituals to honor and remember someone or something we’ve lost are culturally varied. Sometimes you may feel a rush of relief at the idea of skipping the pomp and circumstance altogether. Especially if you struggle with social anxiety. Why should we gather at the home of a relative or neighbor or family friend and share a meal and cry together, you might ask. Do we really need to attend a gathering on Zoom? I find that we’re often at a loss for words. Gathering with others who are also grieving can offer a deeper sense of connection and community, and can remind us that we’re not alone. You can also create your own rituals based on the things you love most, or those that were meaningful to the one you lost. Cook a favorite meal, visit that special place, listen to a favorite song. Carve out space to feel everything you’re feeling. And when the time comes, honor the days that were once special for the person you’re missing, and for the ever-changing relationship you’ll carry with you.
Watch out for the maladaptive ways you used to cope
When we’re in pain, we might fall back into old habits such as drinking, getting high, reaching out to that old flame, falling into 14-hour work days, starting some extreme diet or overanalyzing calories, playing hours of video games, watching porn, or binge eating. It may feel good in the moment by offering a distraction or sense of relief by numbing us out completely, but these types of habits usually make things worse, especially for those with old traumas they are still healing from. If there’s a maladaptive pattern you struggled with in the past, there’s a strong chance it could rear its ugly head. Be cautious. If you’re in doubt, give it a few minutes before giving in.
Schedule time for grief
The heavy emotions that make up grief can be overwhelming. It can seem as if feeling our feelings will lead to losing all control and spiraling down into the abyss. Many of us will have to return to work, whether we’re grieving or not. This means we’ll have to act like everything is normal. It’s understandable to feel like we’ll need to stuff down our emotions while we’re focusing on a task. At some point, we’ll need to process and express those emotions. All of them. It can be helpful to schedule windows of time to grieve and to let go of the urge to hold it together. Take some time to cry while you’re in the shower, during your commute home from work, or late in the evening when everything is still and quiet. You can set a timer for 10 or 20 minutes if that’s helpful. In this window, let yourself cry, punch a pillow, write down all of your thoughts, or just sit in stillness. It’ll also help in easing the need triggered by I-must-stay-in-control-all-the-time thinking.
If it feels like your world is suddenly turned upside down by a major loss, you’re not alone. Sometimes therapy can be helpful to work through the initial stages, especially if you find yourself avoiding any aspect of the loss, or completely consumed by it. Contact me if you’d like to learn more about how therapy can help with grief and loss. I offer in-person therapy in San Francisco, and online therapy throughout California.
