31 Days of Walking with Grief: Others’ and Our Own

Day 5—When Time Stands Still

This is a month-long series to support persons grieving and those who love them.  It includes content from “Sharing Our Stories: A Hospice Whispers Grief Support Workbook” available through Amazon and wherever books are sold.

I so appreciate your comments and messages and sharing of your tender stories with me in response to this series.  The need for support is tremendous, as the stunning nature and weight of grief and loss can immobilize us, leaving us looking for something, anything, to which we can cling.

A gasping and grasping desperation can characterize those early weeks and months when time seems to stand still.  For us, it does.  To move forward, away from this moment, even away from the pain, can feel like walking away from them, and we can’t bear the thought. 

We can’t seem to find space for any thought outside of our grief.

We need this space, this stunned time of wrapping our heads and hearts around what is happening, as much as it bluntly sucks to experience.  The wind has been knocked from us, and we need the time that it takes for our emotional airbags to slowly deflate, the adrenaline of the impact to subside, for our systems to begin to take in the enormity of the situation.

It would be impossible to experience it all at once; nor would we want to feel that much pain, though it’s hard to imagine any greater pain than we already feel.  That stunned, surreal feeling is a natural protection of the mind to help us cope.  Sometimes, we can’t stand the thought of leaving it and facing the reality we know is on the other side. 

If it feels like breathing is too much effort, and you can barely remember to do so, you are not alone, and you are not crazy.  There will come a time when you will hear more than the muffled static in your ears, when you’ll once again be able to see colors and notice smells and tastes, once again.

For now, give yourself space to just be with the swirl, if you can.  Do not panic.  It will pass.  Be slow.  Be gentle.  Find people who can let you be how you are, where you are, as you are with no need to put on a false front to make them feel better about your discomfort. 

You are not broken; you do not need to be fixed.  Do not let anyone rush you.  Of course, sometimes there is no room for grief to sideline us because the children must still be fed, the personal time off has run out, and the lights must be kept on.  But, as much as possible, give yourself room to just be. 

There are no shortcuts.  As Tim Lawrence has written, “Some things in life cannot be fixed.  They can only be carried.” 

When we try to rush through, run from, brush over, or numb out this portion of the pain, it can have a boomerang effect and only delay the inevitable.  Let the swirl be.  I promise you it will not consume you forever.       

A friend once invited me to a movie when I was sitting with an all-consuming swell of grief.  I admitted I wasn’t certain I could pull myself together enough to be good company.  She replied, “If you don’t want to do so, I understand, but if you want to come and sit next to me in the theater and cry through the entire movie, I’m good with that.”  Friends like that are invaluable.

Be that friend to yourself, and invite others to also give you that space.  The world has dealt you a crappy blow, one that we can expect to happen, but for which we are never as prepared as we think we will be. 

Until you hear the ticking of the clock and beating of your own heart once again, just breathe as well as you are able, and trust the wisdom inside of you to take care of the rest.  It will unfold in time.

As you sit and wait in this liminal space, my peace surround you and hold you close. 

Carla    

Rev. Carla Cheatham, MA, MDiv, PhD, TRT has served hospices as a chaplain and bereavement coordinator.  She’s the Section Leader for the Spiritual Caregivers Section of the National Hospice and Palliative Care Organization and an adjunct professor at the Seminary of the Southwest.  Through her Carla Cheatham Consulting Group, Carla provides training and consulting for professional caregivers nationwide.  She is the author of Hospice Whispers: Stories of Life and its companion volume, Sharing Our Stories: A Hospice Whispers Grief Support Workbook.  Her next book, On Showing Up with Suffering: Others’ and Our Own, is set to publish in 2017.     

31 Days of Walking with Grief: Others’ and Our Own

Day 3—Sharing the Journey

This is a month-long series to support persons grieving and those who love them.  It includes content from “Sharing Our Stories: A Hospice Whispers Grief Support Workbook” available through Amazon and wherever books are sold.

Vulnerability is not my strong-suit.  Given what I do and have done for a living as a therapist, pastor, chaplain, and grief counselor, reciprocal relationships aren’t a natural part of my day.  My job is to be there for others, not have others be there for me.  Sharing my journey of pain with others in my personal life has not always come easily.

What can be easy is to hide behind our roles and use them to avoid making ourselves vulnerable to others, which we fear places us at risk of being let down, judged, misunderstood, or perceived as weak.  That may be true, if we’ve not yet learned how to choose persons whom it is truly safe to trust.  I’ll write more about finding such safe spaces in the next post. 

We may even be concerned that once we do let ourselves lean on another, we’ll fall apart and not be able to pull ourselves back together.  That’s rarely the case; it’s just territory we’ve not explored before, so it’s scarier in the beginning to speak up and step out, especially when we already feel raw and exposed with only minimal resources guarding our frazzled emotions.

But we cannot give what we do not have.  Teaching what we do not practice is only manageable for so long.  Besides, folks can smell a fraud a mile away, and we don’t want to fall into the trap of “do as I say, not as I do” or of believing the rules don’t apply to us; that we’re somehow above them and others. 

We also must consider what messages we’re teaching our children about grief.  Are we modeling for them that it’s healthy to ask for help, or sending them the message that the stiff-upper lip, I mentioned in Day 1 of this series, is the way to grieve? 

For many, sharing their story helps them integrate and even re-story their experience as they find meaning and come to terms with it all.  Others find that being able to support others in a group, just by listening, lets them feel still useful, and even gives some tiny bit of meaning to their own pain—that it can be used to help others feel less alone.

One of the most consistent struggles I hear from those grieving is the isolation of it all.  We have joined a club to which no one wants to belong, and few are willing to visit.  Walking with grief can feel lonely, but we don’t have to be alone. 

What’s holding you back from accessing the support you deserve?

Hospices, faith communities, and grief counseling centers regularly offer grief support groups or have lists of places in the community that are offering them.  On-line forums and private Facebook groups can be a safe space to first dip one’s toe into the water.  Blogs written by those who’ve faced similar grief and loss (death of a child, death of a loved one by suicide, death of a spouse, etc.) can also be found to let us know we are not crazy and we are not alone.

I hesitate to offer a list of resources because what works for one person may not work for another, and groups and resources can change all the time.  But I’ve started a list of books, articles, blogs, and websites I’ve come to trust, which you can access through my hospice whispers website. 

I’ll be adding to that page with even more resources over time and I welcome your suggestions.   

Whatever works for you, I encourage you to find something, some place to get support, some place to share your pain, somewhere that you won’t have to be alone with your grief.  Do it for yourself.  Do it for those whose stories also need to be shared.  Do it to honor the memory of the one who did not want to leave you alone.  But please, do it.  

I’m glad you’re with me on the journey, and I hope you’ll continue to share it.

Peace, 

Carla

Rev. Carla Cheatham, MA, MDiv, PhD, TRT has served hospices as a chaplain and bereavement coordinator.  She’s the Section Leader for the Spiritual Caregivers Section of the National Hospice and Palliative Care Organization and an adjunct professor at the Seminary of the Southwest.  Through her Carla Cheatham Consulting Group, Carla provides training and consulting for professional caregivers nationwide.  She is the author of Hospice Whispers: Stories of Life and its companion volume, Sharing Our Stories: A Hospice Whispers Grief Support Workbook.  Her next book, On Showing Up with Suffering: Others’ and Our Own, is set to publish in 2017.