I was on a pre-interview podcast this week. The first one is where I talk about grief and my miscarriage experience. The host stopped me midway through and checked if I was okay talking about it. I told him, “I’ve been waiting for three years to be in a place where I can talk about this”, to which he replied with a knowing smile, “three years isn’t a long time”. However, the following day I would be hit by an unexpected wave of grief, triggered by the news of a loss within my family all too familiar, that left me feeling emotional, raw and tender. I thought back to the podcast host and what he said. Yes, he’s right, three years is not a long time, but with time I’ve learnt how to navigate the waves of grief.
You know where the safety buoy is
As I sat overwhelmed with sadness, I thought, ‘what do you need right now?’. I was preparing lunch when the news hit me, so I fed myself. When asked if I wanted something, I let people make me teas and hug me. I messaged my close friends about the news and how I was feeling. I had a nap. I thought I would use a tool I learnt in my death doula course, I lamented. A way of expressing grief and sorrow through sound. These are all things that I’ve learnt over the last few years of floating with the waves.
You seek out the life guard/s
Similarly to having tools to deal with the waves of grief, I was grateful for having a therapist I could discuss this. I was grateful for messaging a group of new and old friends about how upset I was and getting a flurry of warm-hearted messages back. I was grateful for a family member that held me in that moment of being hit by the wave. I had somewhere along the lines learnt that I didn’t have to be a buoy out at sea, drifting away from life on my own, that I could let people in.
You learn to let the wave wash over you
I let the tears pour out of me, even when I was sitting with company. When asked how I felt, I tried to articulate it as best I could, “I’m feeling so much sadness for the person that is about to be hit with a grief that is all too familiar.” I then retreated to my room and cried some more. I paid attention and felt the pain in my chest, which slowly dissolved. With time you surrender to the waves of grief; you no longer try to swim under them or try to outswim them.
You notice the waves get smaller and further apart
Over time there are fewer and fewer waves of grief, and they aren’t as mighty as the first ones. They have less of an ability to knock you completely over, and you begin to be more resilient; of course, there are occasions when they knock you on your ass. But those brief moments between waves get longer, allowing you to catch your breath, see the horizon with hope, and enjoy the sun shining on your face. Those moments remind you what it is to live again when you’ve felt like something inside you died along with that person.
You let go of the baggage that weighs you down
We all carry beliefs, thoughts, expectations, and ideas of who we are and maybe without even noticing, you start to shed these. That’s what grief does; it strips you of everything that no longer serves you and leaves you bare. It shakes away all that needs letting go of. Things we might have been avoiding letting go because we were too scared or too comfortable. In a way, it’s one of the many gifts we may only come to realise later grief gifts us. We learn to understand what truly matters in a way we haven’t experienced before and start living more aligned, fulfilled and present.
You realise the waves are here to stay
At some point, further down the line in your grieving process and when you’re not drowning in the waves, you will realise these waves aren’t going anywhere. They’re here to stay and become part of our lives. We might even begin to welcome them in. We might realise that they have something to teach us. That we can float on their backs, that they can make us drift to places we didn’t expect to go, that every day the sun will rise and the sun will set and a new day will begin.
Like all things nature, waves go where they want to go and do what they want, and so does our grief. It’s not something we can control, even if we may try. Like nature, we need to let it organically move as it wants to, hitting our edges and shaping us inside into who we are becoming.
With love and magic,
#AuthenticAlex
Upcoming news and events…
For those experiencing grief, both the little G and the big G kind, I recently launched the Café of Endings and New Beginnings with my wonderful friend Tracey McEachran. The Cafe is a virtual place created to explore all our griefs within community. There is power in the group, because everyone is holding up a mirror to allow us to see ourselves more fully by exploring what we cannot see on our own. Our next Café is Monday 13th March and is by donation, you can sign up here.
I've recently launched a new creative writing course based on my current Ancestral exploration, which you’ll be reading about soon. If you’re curious to connect with your ancestry, then you can find out more here. Beginners and experienced writers are all welcomed.
Lastly, I stopped coaching this time last year as I needed the space to get clear if it was something I wanted to continue to do and if so how my approach needed to evolve. I realised what needed changing was incorporating a more holistic approach that includes both the practical and the spiritual. I specialise in guiding people to cross the threshold. If you’re curious to know more, please reach out.