Pack Animals

You may be tired of this topic and I don't mean to belabor, but I think it's a discussion worth having. I want to share some lessons and thoughts as I've processed the death of a parent and worked with others processing their own grief and issues in life. I think it's important to note how normal grief is. The three letters to my father is a way I have processed my grief over the years and I've had several people help me along the way.

I think in this culture we're quick to say, "I'm fine" because we don't want to burden others and we isolate when we should take part in community. We forget how community is there in both good times and bad. When someone we love passes away we tend to focus more on how others feel rather than processing our grief in a way that's cathartic, that gets us through those moments of pain and loneliness. Discomfort has become an evil, something we try to get away from as soon as possible. But discomfort isn't always bad, it isn't always unhealthy, it's a sign that we need love and support. I have friends and family members that disappear completely when they know I'm going through something hard. I don't judge them because I know they have their own triggers, their own pain. But I won't lie, it makes me feel more broken. In my eyes loss and grief should be processed with others. When they are not there, there's a tendency to see more complicated grief, grief that turns sour and potentially permanent.

My most favorite movie moment is in Steel Magnolias (Yes!) when Sally Fields' character is standing in front of the casket of her daughter alone. Her friends come to her and try to reassure her that things will be okay. At first she stays calm and tries to keep herself together, then it hits her... loss. She fluctuates between trying to keep herself together, anger, crying, screaming in anguish, then it all turns into laughter. Her friends stand by encouraging her, at times are fearful of her, and then encourage her to get it out, to be angry, to be human. This interaction is beautiful, it's real, it's sad, it's also hilarious. It's one of the best scenes in film because it's so accurate. Every time I watch that scene I engage with the characters because there is no veil. The acting is so well done and you sense that even though it's a movie, those actors are also relating in some way, which is why they convey the moment so well. It's something we can all relate to, a true human moment.

I work with people in crisis and I've worked in mental health in medical settings for over 10 years. I have seen folks in their worst moments and it plays out within the breadth of human emotion. People fall on the ground screaming, throwing themselves on their loved one. People laugh and joke and try to keep the moment light and joyful. I have seen professionals have more emotion and grief around the death of a patient than the family in the room. In every situation, without fail, people do better when they are not alone, when they have support. Humans are pack animals, we always have been. The more we isolate the more our grief persists. The more we push people away, the more we are able to focus on the loneliness rather than the fact that we have support and a community. We start telling ourselves that no one cares, when in reality, there is always someone. I don't know how many times I've heard the phrase, "No one cares about me" and after a few questions on my part I discover that there is usually someone out there. Unfortunately, I also tend to hear, "I don't want to bother them."

Are we bothered? I think there is truth in our culture of individualism, this idea that people need to take care of their own problems, especially those who always seem to have a problem. I think there is a culture of people waiting to be asked to help, rather than just recognizing that a loved one is in pain. There is a lack of offering and there is a lack of asking. I think we can be better. Why do we have friends? Why do we have family? If we can't be with those people at the worst times, then why? Hold space for people. Being uncomfortable is a part of life at times, and sometimes we have to be uncomfortable with ourselves and with others to get through a moment. Its not fun, it's not glamorous, but it's something that gets us through those moments faster.

Grief takes time. When my father passed away, I was told to "give it a year" by several people. A year? They were right. After a year I could function, I didn't really need to talk about it anymore, I wasn't crying every time I thought about the loss. What I've found is grief never really goes away, it evolves, it changes over time. I don't think it's particularly healthy to ignore it, to just say, "Get over it." I'm still grieving because life is happening and I can't share it with him. I know I'm processing my grief in a healthy way because when I get sad, I have a way to redirect the grief into something productive and not allow it to take over. I got to that space through the love and compassion of others. People stopping and taking time to listen, to allow me to talk and to say I'm sad. They didn't make it about themselves, they asked how they could help, they listened, they were truly present, and it made the difference.

I want to encourage folks to hold space with others, feel your emotions, and talk about your emotions. I want to encourage everyone to be a community, to be listeners, to take a moment to be uncomfortable. Life is more awesome if we have others with us, engaging with us, and showing us that emotions make us human. Expressing our emotions makes us better. You are not abnormal when you are a human being, when you are screaming, laughing, crying, and needing time. Reach out to others when you need it, reach out to others when you think they need a friend, a shoulder to cry on. Try to show that you relate without making it about you, make it about the shared experience. We all have a capacity for compassion and kindness. We are one community. We are a tribe. We are meant to be here for each other. Be kind.

Be Well!

“Deep grief sometimes is almost like a specific location, a coordinate on a map of time. When you are standing in that forest of sorrow, you cannot imagine that you could ever find your way to a better place. But if someone can assure you that they themselves have stood in that same place, and now have moved on, sometimes this will bring hope” ― Elizabeth Gilbert, Eat, Pray, Love