How I Learned to Grieve

How I Learned to Grieve

I grew up in Kansas where the people who tamed the prairie knew all kinds of hardships. They faced an often-brutal climate of hot summer days, dust-filled winds, and winter nights that chilled them to the bone. The long distances between family farms or between small towns led to lives of isolation and self-reliance. 

They shared a sense of community and purpose and supported each other when trouble came. Much of their strength came from belief in the sanctity of the individual. And much of the support came as a bolstering of the spirit to stand up, stand for, stand against, stand alone, and just keep ‘standing it.’ It was the Kansas way. It was the American way.

And that way can be as brutal as the climate, as isolating as the miles between farms and towns.

In many ways they harnessed the climate, became the ‘breadbasket of the world’ at one time and harnessed the wind to serve them. They built homes and barns and towns that provided shelter and warmth.  The roads and turnpikes they built shortened the distances; the technology they implemented made communication possible.

They handed down the spirit of the individual to withstand troubles, to gather together to bolster one another. 

This spirit, like a Kansas road, one-pointed, leads straight ahead seemingly forever into the vast sky at the edge of the horizon. Because when you believe you “must” be a strong individual, that you must make it on your own, you do all you can to develop your abilities so that you will never need to rely on anyone. You don’t look left or right but drive straight ahead. 

You develop a strong will, some might say. 

Those are good qualities, and a strong will is essential.

But a strong will is not sufficient.

We are social animals. We survive together, and we grow together. Social bonds, friendships, partnerships, communities, the arts require the development of other types of will. We need to develop our skillful will, our good will, our loving will. 

I began this entry on grief by invoking my Kansas heritage. Many cultures prize the strong will, the individual spirit, the grit to “stand it.” Because of my heritage, I developed a strong will and am thankful for it. 

A strong will standing alone will break at some point and mine did when I was in my late 30’s. 

A few years before this a close friend was the victim of a random murder. I received comfort from those around me; however, I was living in another part of the world and was unable to be with those who were also grieving her loss. I used my strong will to do what I needed to do, thinking I had done all my grieving. 

A few years later, I became aware my chosen career no longer held value for me, and I was experiencing the loss that comes from a sense of lost identity and purpose. I did not connect my sense of isolation and lack of confidence in my ability to handle things alone to her death. I felt stuck and did not know which way to go. 

I decided to just stand still. 

In my standing still, I felt the need for something more, for some kind of connection, perhaps some guidance, definitely to hear another voice than the ones arguing in my head. 

I made an appointment with a therapist.

Through my therapy I learned the strength that comes from accepting pain and grief and from expressing them through tears and words and actions. I felt the support from the simple act of another person listening, another person valuing my experience. I admit I was surprised I did not feel weak as I accepted that support. I felt stronger. I felt validated. I felt more whole.

I learned I could depend on someone without being dependent on them. I no longer had to block my deeper feelings for fear they would weaken me. I learned to welcome my feelings, to hold them in my body and to release them, to invoke them as part of my human heritage. As part of being stronger, more whole. 

Using my skillful will, I can be curious about and explore my past, the dynamics of family and culture that helped to make me who I am. And I learned I can accept the legacies that still hold value and reject those that no longer serve me. 

Through my good will, I recognized I am part of the human race, that we are always evolving, and that I can be part of that evolution. I realized we all grieve the loss of loved ones, that we benefit from participating in the human experience, that it can lead to nurturing our loving will to be ever broader and more expansive, to include more and more people and a deeper and deeper experience of the world and life. 

I realized that my grief for the loss of my friend had taken me to a depth where I could ask my questions about life with a sense of where I fit in this world rather than how do I resist the world. I wanted the world to exist, and I wanted it to be different. I wanted to keep my strength and to value my connections. I wanted to harness the love I felt for my friend and express it into the world in a new way. 

I wanted to value my Kansas heritage yet help myself and others to not only stand alone but to truly stand together. I was beginning to see the limits of individualism. 

To get there I had to face my loss. To feel the feelings of outrage that such a sweet life had been so brutally taken. To feel the pain of her loss. To feel the pain that so many who loved her and felt loved by her felt at her death.  

And then I knew what lies beneath pain. And I knew going deeper, moving more fully into my body, into the places holding my pain like a dark treasure was a secret passage to more authenticity of being. 

And I knew I wanted to help others find their secret paths to a more authentic life. 

If you are ready to discuss how therapy might help you, please call us at 859.740.7374.

If you are interested in learning more about grief, stay tuned for another blog post next week called: How to Know if You Need Grief Counseling.