Let's Talk About It

If you've followed me for any length of time, you’re likely to have seen me say that several times, so... let's talk.

I'm a big fan of getting things out in the open, saying how you feel. If you tell someone your truth and they walk away, what you shared wasn’t wrong and neither was their walking away; they showed they lacked the capacity to support you and when people show us who they are, we need to believe them.

When it comes to joy, talking about it magnifies the joy and spreads it around; conversely, pain shrinks when shared. Shared joy is multiplied, shared sorrow is halved. This is why we gather for weddings, birthdays, even funerals. We're a social species, we like to share things.

Grief and death are treated as taboo by much of modern society, leading to those of us deep in grief feeling alone, bereft in every way. Grief is often misunderstood, also. People will ask “Are you still talking about that?” as though pretending nothing has changed is the correct thing to do. We don’t pretend someone who had an amputated limb doesn’t need physical therapy, so then why is the parent who buried a teenager to forget their childhood? Is a widow meant to act like she's always been alone, a single parent? Goodness, I hope not.

A person deep in grief can have difficulty seeing anything else. They walk around hearing a litany of Dead Dead Dead pounding a beat into their brain. It's terrible. People ask you mundane questions, and you struggle to understand what they even mean.

As a grief coach, and as a bereaved mom/daughter/sister, when I meet a client for the first time, we usually sit in silence a bit, take a couple deep breaths, ground ourselves in the moment. Then I'll ask the mother, tell me about him as a child, his favorite toy, his favorite foods. I'll ask the widowed, tell me about when you met, your first date, an early adventure. This helps get their brain out of that constant pain rut, onto a track that's more familiar, where you can see that love again. That love hasn't left, it's all around us, all the time. Love is energy, an aura, the intangible made tangible. I often recommend a sweater or special blanket, something warm and soft that feels like love, you can wrap up in it like protective armor.

Another thing I utilize when talking to the grieving is telling some of my own story. This is not to take attention away, but to show that I have been on that same dark path. If it seems like it would be helpful, I have a vast array of stories to share to illustrate a point. I've been doing this for a long time, in one way or another, and there are myriad ways of turning grief to purpose and many ways to grieve. I'm always interested in learning more, to celebrate the resilience of the human heart.

The point is, the stories are what brings us back, stories are where the love is. The very first thing humans do after learning to speak is to create a story. So, come sit by me. Tell me about your person, their favorite foods, the way their one dimple flashed when they talked, how they made you feel safe, feel seen, feel loved. Let's talk about it.

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