Strong Enough for Grief
“[Most people] want to talk about ideas that will get them as far in life as possible. But grief says, “let’s go backwards. Let’s think about things that make you feel weak, that make you wish you could go back in time and change things.” Grief reminds you of your lack of control.”
My Story of Grief
Grief is a topic I get very passionate about, which probably sounds weird or dark, but I’ve just learned so much over the last decade and I have so much to share in hopes that it will encourage others to face their grief head on. Most people will deal grief, but no one wants to talk about it until they’re in it. And I get that. Who wants to think about such sad circumstances? Grief brings up a lot of unpleasant emotions so it makes sense why it’s not a hot topic. Most people want to think about how they can get stronger, smarter, or more disciplined. They want to talk about ideas that will get them as far in life as possible. But grief says, “let’s go backwards. Let’s think about things that make you feel weak, that make you wish you could go back in time and change things.” Grief reminds you of your lack of control.
A little background first. How did I become so passionate about grief? I know it’s probably an unexpected topic for a woman in her twenties to want to focus on, but as you can probably guess I’ve been walking with grief for some time now. On February 1, 2014, I lost my older brother to suicide. It was unexpected, it was heartbreaking, and nothing made sense. Why would a 27-year-old who just graduated from art school and landed a great job right off the bat want to end things? He was adventurous, hilarious, incredibly thoughtful, and so talented. My world was shook.
I was 19 when it happened, just a freshman in college at California Baptist University. I was an engineering major with a full class load and a clear path ahead of me. Or so I thought. I spent the first two weeks of his death at home with my family. We moved through the customary motions of planning the funeral and attending multiple memorials. I had been to funerals before, but it was always for people much older than my brother. Those funerals made sense. My brain could comprehend them. But this, losing a brother, was like facing Goliath.
A New Normal
When I got back to school, my hall mates greeted me with a warm welcome and were very intentional about inviting me out. I did my best to get caught up in my classes and I managed to pass them all, though I did have C’s across the board. And the following summer was filled with healthy distractions. I went on back to back missions trips, one with my college and another with some old church friends. Those trips were awesome, but that’s a story for another post. I also served as a youth leader at a summer camp, led a girl’s Bible study, and hosted a girls’ night for the youth group at my house. But all these good distractions were accompanied by countless emotional breakdowns. My close friends were sure to ask me how I was doing. I may have been keeping busy, but I certainly was not trying to escape my brutal reality. I cried, I was triggered easily, I prayed a lot, and I was honest with people when they asked questions.
The following school year I took it easy. The engineering path didn’t feel right, so I switched my major to undeclared and took the minimum number of classes allowed. I took it easy with my academics, but I dove head first into my emotional and mental health. At CBU they offered free Christian counseling on campus and I went for the majority of the school year. I consider this to be the true beginning of learning how to carry grief. Notice how I describe it as “carrying grief.” After a decade of walking with grief, I’ve learned that it’s not a season, it’s not a passage way, it’s not something that goes away or ends. It’s a weight. Now this might sound bleak. After all, who wants to walk around with a bunch of baggage? But it’s true and baggage is normal. We all have it. Grief is a weight and it’s up to us to either get stronger so we can better carry it, or be crushed under the weight of it.
After my first few sessions of counseling, I learned that it wasn’t going to be a quick process. Those sessions don’t usually feel very empowering or inspiring. In fact, I often dreaded going. I felt uncomfortable, sometimes I didn’t know how to answer my counselor’s questions, and sometimes I left in tears. But I felt the Holy Spirit pushing me forward and encouraging me to stick with it. Also, given the circumstances of my grief I was very motivated to stay on top of my mental health.
Baby Steps Forward
Counseling is nothing magical, and I quickly started comparing it to the gym. Your first session won’t give you the end results you’re wanting just like how one workout won’t give you the muscle tone or weight loss you’re wanting. It’s in the consistency where we start to see results and healing. Counseling simply gives you the space to talk about what is going on in that incredibly complicated brain of yours. It holds you accountable to face the facts, understand your circumstances, and consider new perspectives. And hopefully you can gain some new skills to help regulate your emotions so that your grief doesn’t become someone else’s trauma.
So why do I compare grief to a weight? Why can’t it be something we deal with for a time and then let go of? Because the facts never change. Time doesn’t make a loss any less traumatic, any less messed up, any less devastating. The fact that my brother was hurting so much that he ended his own life will always suck. It will always be wrong. It will always be outside of God’s perfect will. People say death is natural, but is it? When God created the world, He made it perfect. No sickness, no disease, no death. Grieving the loss of a loved one is not like going through a breakup or losing a job where one day you’ll wake up and be over it. Death reminds us that this world is cursed. And in order to continue this race with grace and dignity and not be crippled by it, we MUST become stronger.
**Quick side note** If you’re grieving the loss of a loved one, and someone is telling you to get over it, however far along in your journey with it, I would highly encourage you NOT to let that person speak into your life or allow them to influence your behaviors. People with that kind of perspective are for sure suppressing their own emotions and not dealing with life’s hardships in a healthy way. Losing a parent, a sibling, a close friend, or a child is not something that you will ever get over. If someone is telling you to get over it, it’s probably because that person feels uncomfortable being around unpleasant emotions. They simply don’t have the skills or emotional maturity to give you the space to be sad, to be mad, to be depressed. If they only want to spend time with you when you’re happy and pleasant and can make them feel good about themselves, that’s a clear sign they’re only interested in having a shallow relationship with you. This can be hard because sometimes it’s people who seem close to you. It could be family, it could be long time friends. But be objective. Is this person only here for the surface level stuff, for the celebrations, for the girls’ night out? Or do they walk through the valleys with you?
Back to my analogy about how grief is a weight. The more we allow ourselves to think and reflect on something, the more time our brains have to fully process what has happened. It’s like putting in the reps. Every time you work out, you get stronger. It may feel uncomfortable while you’re doing it. You may feel sore after. But your muscles rebuild even stronger than before. Counseling will feel uncomfortable. You might leave feeling sad, angry, or confused, but trust that it’s good for your mind. You might dread going, just like how sometimes you dread going to the gym. But once you start experiencing results, you become much more motivated to stick with it.
Normalizing the Triggers
So we can compare counseling to physical training, but I have one more comparison and this one focuses more on how our brains process information. This one’s probably a perspective you haven’t heard before, but stick with me. Grief is a sad emotional experience we deal with, but I’m going to talk about a happy emotional thing we actually enjoy - hearing a good joke. Imagine listening to your favorite comedian. The first time you hear a bit from this comedian, you’re laughing hysterically. Now laughter is a much more enjoyable emotional experience so we allow ourselves to experience this fully. The joke triggers an emotional response and we laugh until it hurts and tears are streaming down our faces. We repeat the joke to each other countless times, we re-watch the Netflix special, and we allow ourselves to fully experience the emotions it triggers and fully process everything about the joke that makes it funny.
Now eventually, that joke will lose its effect on us. It doesn’t become any less funny. We’ve just heard it before. Our brains have fully processed the joke enough times that now it doesn’t trigger the same response from us. We still believe it’s funny, it might get a little chuckle from us, and maybe if we come back to it after some time has passed, we might belly laugh again. But ultimately, we’re ready to move forward and hear some new material. Now I’m no psychologist. I’m just speaking from my own experiences. And when it comes to grief, I have allowed myself to fully experience the sadness it triggers. I’ve allowed myself to ugly cry countless times over the last decade. And while sometimes I do still cry about losing my brother, I ultimately have processed the trauma enough times that now I’m not so easily triggered by memories of him, by comments about suicide, by seeing a red Ford Ranger truck on the road (which was the only vehicle he ever owned).
How can this help?
So if you’re struggling to carry your grief today, ask yourself, “have I allowed myself to process everything that happened and all the emotions that have come up as a result of my loss?” Doing this only once or twice will not make you any stronger, but thinking about your loved one and sitting in those unpleasant emotions on a more consistent basis will give your mind the time it needs to get stronger. I understand life goes on. We have jobs to get back to, kids to raise, a degree to earn. Trust me, I know. I had to get back to “normal” life as soon as possible if I was going to pass all those classes we had paid for. There were times I had to compartmentalize in order to keep running my race. But once a week I set aside time for counseling. I spent time with people who were not afraid to see me cry, who encouraged me and prayed for me continually. Just like how we weave our workouts and healthy eating habits into everyday life, I managed to integrate my “grief processing” into my life too. And while uncomfortable at times, it enabled me to heal. I became stronger. Sure I stumbled at times, but allowing myself to feel ALL of it has built up my mental and emotional strength and I’m able to remember my brother with so much joy, so much gratitude, and trust God that there is more joy and purpose to come despite the tragedy.
**If you or someone you know is struggling with suicidal ideation, contact the Suicide and Crisis Lifeline at 988.**
There is purpose in your pain and a joyful life is possible no matter how hard or dark things get.
