Grief, Your Way is Okay

Grief. A simple word that names an incredibly complex process. Everyone has an idea of what grief looks like and what is “normal” but the reality is grief is an intensely individual process that can look very different person to person. There is no manual that tells you how to navigate grief or tells you what is “normal” or not. The reality is we only know what is best in our own grief journey and no one else’s.

One of the most significant experiences with grief in my own life started when I was a sophomore in college. In March of 2003 my mom was diagnosed with Stage 4 Pancreatic cancer.  Just for perspective according to the Cancer Treatment Centers of America the survival rate for 1 year post diagnosis is between 12% and 29%, and the survival rate for 5 years just 2%. Needless to say this was devastating news. Mom battled hard for just over a year before she passed away in the early morning hours of July 17, 2004, surrounded by family.

Her smile and laugh were infectious

In an instant my world had been turned upside down and I didn’t even know where to begin to process what was happening. News spread quickly around the small town I grew up in and before long there was a steady stream of people stopping by the house with their condolences, food, and the offer to “let them know if we needed anything”. Truthfully most of that first day is hazy at best and it was nice to have all the support, but I was numb, and truly had no idea what I needed from anyone. All I knew was I had a list of people I was supposed to call, we needed to go to the funeral home to make arrangements, and talk with the Pastor. Life became task oriented and just getting through the next hour, the next minute was my focus.

My sister, Mom, and Me after her diagnosis

I don’t think the grief actually set in until much later. That first week was about getting “business” taken care of and then at the end of the week my sister and I were back at our summer job. Six weeks after that my sister and I were moving back to college. We told our dad we didn’t want to go but he said “What are you going to do around here” he had to go back to work as well and we knew Mom would want us to continue our education, so we went.

Mom being. . .well. . .Mom

On the surface it seemed as though life was back to normal. Dad was back at work, my sister and I were back at school and attending classes, all the family had gone home, and the cards stopped coming in the mail.  But the reality was it was, that was when the grief process finally started for me, after all the other things stopped. I found myself wanting to call my mom and tell her something that happened that day, and my heart breaking when I remembered I couldn’t. I heard my friends at school complain about their parents and some annoying thing they had done, and found myself getting irrationally angry at them. And some days it just plain hurt to breathe. But other days were okay, I could laugh and have a good time and everything seemed normal.

This is probably the most annoying part about grief, the unpredictability. One day you can feel like your old normal self and other days you can barely muster the energy to get out of bed in the morning. It is confusing and hard to understand not only to you but to the people around you as they are trying to figure out what you need and how to best be supportive, but that is constantly changing, and because it's constantly changing you may not even be able to tell them what you need.

Early in the fall semester when I was back at school, I was lucky enough to start an internship and meet someone who would become a lifelong friend. One day she told me that while I was grieving I got to do whatever I thought was going to make me feel better if only for a moment, and if I wanted to stand on my head I should stand on my head and not worry about what others thought. (Now there are obvious exceptions to this advice, like if what is making you feel better is harming you or others, i.e. substance abuse etc.) But that moment is something that has stuck with me to this day, it gave me permission to grieve on my terms and in my way and helps me remember that whatever I am feeling is okay.

One of my favorite, Me (3yrs) and Mom

That is now the messege I try to convey to everyone who is dealing with grief. That whatever you are feeling is okay and whatever your personal grief process includes IS "normal". It is one of the things I specialize in in my practice and I can honestly tell you that of all the clients I have worked with no two have had the same grief journey. Yet they all feel societal pressure to “get over” their grief and move on with their lives, often leaving them feeling confused, broken, and like they are grieving incorrectly. You can’t grieve incorrectly, grief is a natural process and if you allow yourself to experience it and take it as it comes you will start to feel better and stronger as the days pass. And you will start to heal.

If you are in a grief process also remember the support of others is important. Although people may at times say something that comes across as hurtful or not helpful, they have good intentions and aren’t trying to be hurtful, they just want to help. But because it is such an individual process it can be difficult to know how to be helpful and they can inadvertently bring more confusion to an already difficult process. (Side note: I plan to do a part 2 of sorts to this entry talking more about how to support someone who is grieving, so sit tight for that and let me know if you have any questions you would like me to answer in that post).

Mom at Wrigley with my aunt (her sister) and cousins

It has been 11 and a half years since I lost my mom and my grief looks much different now than it did in those first days but it is still there. This past week I have been following The Cubs in the playoffs (We are born and bred Cubs fans on my mom’s side of the family) and there was a moment when they beat the Pirates Wednesday night in the Wild Card Game where my heart just shattered into a million pieces. Not only was I thinking of how much my mom would be loving this but I also remembered how she used to sit on our living room floor, cross legged, rocking back and forth, calling all the players by their FIRST names, and yelling “HEY HEY CUBBIES” whenever they had a hit or a good play. Eleven and a half years later the pain is still there but I’ve learned to live with it, it’s not as intense or constant as it once was, and it has helped shape me into the person and therapist I am today. And most importantly I got to this point in my way and on my terms.