What would it mean for us to choose rest in our grief work – to admit that we need to slow down in our hurried pace of life and let ourselves just…be? This week, we’re resetting the clock and starting over on our grief work and expectations. Our experience may not be as quick as we’d like, but it will be ours and that is more hopeful than you think.
Grief itself can come on fast, but grieving is not a fast process. It is a lifelong engagement – an ongoing act of permission to honor and validate the intensity.
Allowing moments of grace for ourselves through grief is the crucial act of kindness we need to survive the overwhelming need to move forward. I think we assume moving forward is the only way to “feel better or to enjoy life.” Indeed, we will eventually move forward. But without first reading the map, a road trip of such magnitude will result in missed turns and flat tires. We do not need to suffer additional indignities simply for the sake of healing. Quite the opposite — our minds will allow us to heal in tangible, experiential ways if we can embrace the humble, steady pace of one thing at a time.
Early in the grief process – and I mean in the first two weeks, typically – it seems like we have a little more grace for ourselves and the support we need. We’re less afraid to ask for help and more open to the reality that things are going to be tough and uncomfortable for a little while.
But what about when those two weeks end?
I think this is often where people wonder what steps or actions they can take to hurry the process along. The messy little moments of grief that pop-up after the initial weeks are hard to accept and yet, accepting them is exactly what we need to do before we can move into anything bigger.
Focusing on the small things we can handle restores our sense of control and involvement over our own lives. In these early days of loss, we might even be experiencing an ongoing expression of denial over the impact this loss has in our lives.
But if we are not mindful, we vilify denial instead of admitting it is a normal and expected part of reality.
Denial allows us to pace ourselves, to daydream, and protects our heart against the shame of this slower movement through life.
Sometimes our pace is so slow, even, that it feels like reverse – but what feels like reverse may just be standing still. I struggle with stillness, but as I mentally and physically practice being still, I am learning patience with myself as I process at my own pace. Every single time I learn of another life lost, another home burned, another illness diagnosed, I experience what I’ve come to call “The Great Slow Down.”
In “The Great Slow Down,” light moves faster while minutes seem trapped in molasses. Simple decisions, like what to eat next, feel weighty. Even my next breath takes more energy than I can muster. But in this pacing, my own body is giving me permission to wait. To pause. To be still and resist the litany of decision making, criticisms, and damaging thought processes our culture tends to rely upon during grief.
And we can access this slow, intentional way of living no matter where we find ourselves in the process. Grief is not a problem to solve or a box we can close and give away. It is a lifelong experience – one we all face, whether we like it or not.
So when we come to accept that our experience needs pacing; needs more slow, intentional methods, where does the shame of staying in this place come from? Why do we have the impression we must hurry, speed up, or hustle again?
We could go into a long and exhausting discussion about capitalism, hustle culture, productivity, and the needs of others who rely upon us. But that’s too much for the slow moment we want to experience.
Instead, let’s name the unending questions from well-intended outsiders. I think the curiosity of strangers can cultivate shame. Although they usually mean well, those leading questions make us internalize and “should” all over our decisions. Questions like, “When will you go back to work?” and “Haven’t you gotten some help yet, it’s been a few months.” One of the personally shaming questions I heard often is around fertility and pregnancy loss: “Well, are you going to try again?”
These questions come from the cultural discomfort with suffering and a need to fix the broken situation. It is hard to believe someone might choose to rest and be still over productivity and trying to move on. But rather than bandaging it up early, imagine what would happen if your wound had a chance to breathe. If the pausing and avoidance of questions like these was a natural response to your own needs and loss.
I think if you allowed yourself to slow down, you would begin to notice what those efforts to “fix you” sound like. I think your awareness would grow, allowing you to identify the shame as it is offered in question form, and respond with compassion for yourself and the person unaware of what they’re asking.
In the meantime, if you’re not sure what the “fixing” sounds like, bring your attention to those who offer platitudes of cheer and stories of their own grieving process. When you are so used to hearing this kind of “catch the hope!” story, it’s hard to notice when it doesn’t feel good. These kinds of comments feed the narrative of “move on” with expectations you have no obligation to carry. It’s completely okay to appreciate someone else’s story of hope and not be able to internalize it for yourself. Yet from those interactions, we “should” ourselves with their stories, believing our denial and sorrow do not deserve the space to move slowly or simply stand still.
I want to leave you with an invitation to remain with yourself through any grief you experience, for as long as you need. You don’t have to keep up with anyone but yourself. If you can hold yourself to your own standard, your own expectations, and your own hopes, you will create space in your inner world that becomes a gift – both for you and the people you see face to face.
Thank you for listening to episode 202 of Restorative Grief. In grief, it is not your job to brighten another’s day, lest you unintentionally stomp on their sorrow. If you’re not sure how to hold space without fixing, try saying, “This sucks. I love you. I’m so sorry. I’m with you.” And these are the same words you should speak to your own heart! Every time your heart lurches with pain today, say the words above to yourself. Your heart needs to learn how to rebuild a connection to the swimming thoughts in your head but taking it slow will allow you to build a bridge that remains trustworthy in the strongest of winds.
If this is your first time listening to the podcast, thank you for joining me. Grief work is hard enough – and we don’t need to navigate it on our own. Be sure to subscribe to the podcast so you can get a fresh episode of encouragement and education on loss each Sunday, and if you want to support the work outside of leaving a review, consider joining the Patreon. Benefits include a weekly workbook to go along with every single podcast episode – that alone is incredibly helpful. Thank you as always to my Patrons – you have my unending gratitude. And as always, before we go, one last thing. Please remember, the only solution for grief is to do the work of grieving. Thank you for listening. I’ll see you next week.
Links + Resources from this episode: