“We were never built for this, not really, and I think we know it now.”
I am reminded by this comment of something my late brother told me some months before he passed. He told me that one of the biggest challenges of his disease was coming to terms with the finality of his time on earth. And once he had conquered that challenge, he was actually more comfortable with his treatment to fight the disease. Once he accepted the probability for loss, it was easier for him to focus on staying alive. And yet when he did leave us, and despite his noble attempt to prepare us, we felt abandoned and lost. We openly wept for a life lost too early. I grieved publicly with an online eulogy. And then per his wishes, forced myself to focus on care of others left behind. And with that as my perspective… I suggest we not hide our grief, nor allow it to consume our lives. No words on a page solace the solitary public exposure and visible visceral pain that is experienced with one’s personal grief. No reputation is too fragile to succumb to the expected tears and lamented cries from a stranded survivor. For open grief is universally accepted as an emotion we empathize and respect intuitively. We accommodate those who must release the chains of incredible sadness (and sometimes anger) which are fastened to the soul. But we allow for this knowing that, once purged, the injured soul is allowed to heal, to find new elements filling the void of empty attachments. I believe Buddha’s comments on the Noble Truth are not to simply accept suffering in life, but to recognize that it is an essential part of life and is included in our perpetual search for enlightenment. We are not here to dwell upon any single emotion, but to provision for and apportion them as we do for all. So, for me, I respect and honor anyone’s need to express their grief, as it is a very real and natural emotion. But as part of the our journey through life, after we are knocked down, emote our grief, and heal; we get back up and carry on.
Grief has it's own time table and Ii have found I need to flow with it. The griefs have been many. My mother at 58, the year I was getting married. My father. My brother's sudden and unexpected death to broken heart strings [really]. Grandparents. Uncles ... and countless cats over my many years.
[And Tyler, I know you said not to account for the griefs, but I must.... it's important.]
Yet the one grief that has not yet healed, and there are tears welling up in my eyes as I write this, is for the cat who chose me to be the love of his life. My greatest and most unconditional love ... Kismet.
I don't speak of the depth of my sorrow, grief, and guilt over his death. I mean, he was a cat after all. [bullshit] I don't speak of it because it really stings ... and most people do not understand how a cat could cause such feelings. But there are tears streaming down my face. I don't speak much about his death because ... I feel I murdered him. ...
He had diabetes. We caught it too late [looking back it was years of symptoms] and ... I could not afford his treatment, which he was not responding to any longer. I made the always difficult decision to euthanize him. I stayed with him and he seemed to know and made no fuss over the sedative prior to the euthanasia as most animals do. The vet said cats who are suffering usually respond like that. I rested my head on his belly. I wept. I apologized.
I realize that in keeping my feelings hidden about how he died, and how I felt about it, within I have broken a rule of my very own especially when dealing with grief ... Dive into the pain. Acknowledge to pain. Be compassionate to one's Self as the pain processes. Be honest in the depths. Float, and allow others to hold you in the water.
Depression has taught me a lot about how to be gentle with the hard times. To allow them to ebb and flow and honor the unique timetable that grief presents ... everyone is different. Everyone is correct. Depression also taught me the importance of being real with others about it while seeking support from the outside, the inside begins to make some sense. ... and even as the years progress, it will still reach out to remind you from time to time. I never did this with Kismet.
I never grieved properly for Kismet due to the guilt I feel. But it seems as if telling you all this and the tears that have flowed have done some good. I feel an open wound in my chest, yet, I also feel unburdened.
Thanks for allowing this forum, Tyler. Thanks for allowing my randomness. Thanks for reading this everyone.
I’m so sorry you have carried this guilt, never a burden yours but all mamas do, for the one your soul loved and lost. Wish I could hug you. I have known animals heart to heart like this. I’m believe we will meet them again soon on another plane.
Grief, in my short experiences, is not something one ever truly gets through. It changes us in ways, big and small. It leaves holes in us that try though we may will never be filled in the same way by what was once there. Grief simply exists, there is no way around it. It takes courage and strength to walk the unending road alongside it and not let go of that defiant spark of hope. There is no magic one size fits all to grieving. All we can do is the best that we can on any given day. Feel the tidal waves of emotion as they come, give ourselves the grace and time to process and be gentle to ourselves as we aclimate to this new version of us. Perhaps most important is to find little bits of light that can spark joy and gratitude to keep us afloat during the hardest days.
I am grieving the life I've lived so far. In the past two years I've lost everyone. By death. By distance. By cutting ties with toxic people who were hurting me. Sure I have found peace, but it's cost me dearly. I know how selfish this is. And I know people have worse griefs. However, I am mourning who I used to be, who I am now, who I could have been. I am left with no one in my day to day life that I can count on. It's just me now. Left to pick up my own shattered pieces and find a new way to assemble them. It's lonely. And sad. And isolating. I desperately want to be like other people. I even miss the old times. When I did have some support, even if I was required to pay it back six fold. At least then someone was paying attention to me and would miss me when I didn't show up. I wish it didn't have to be one life or the other.
I understand what it feels like to be lonely while never being alone. I wonder if I ever have your courage to be alone if I will miss when I felt this lonely.
I’m sorry for your pain of the person you used to be, I can’t wait to see who grows out of your bravery.
You are the light that guides us home to ourselves; to our authentically vulnerable & brave selves. Raw & unvarnished.
Lady G. is the Cherry on the cake. Like a bakewell tart, if she was ever so inclined to go British with her baking.
Grief, like the Truth, is rarely pure & never simple.
As you know, I stand on the shoulders of giants. Souls who are much, much bigger than our 30%-smaller-than-the-Mean bodies give us credit for.
But this? We are the Legacy that those before us invested in. We are the ones who inherited the Earth from our Children. Who need to be taught well.
And this, this is the greatest of our Eight. I will rip out the teeth & eyes & throat & eviscerate any form of toxic masculinity that deigns to touch the best thing since fairybread.
Three days with London. No more. Gallifrey will never fall. Not for him.
The last few years I have been living in a haze, oscillating between confusion and mourning.
It wasn’t Covid, or losing loved ones, it the was the uncovering, an exposure of what may be true?
It’s the question, “how long are you going to grieve?” asked as I cry the day after they pass, or when we celebrate when a loved one would have turned 100.
It’s having to ask to be held while in the middle of a medical emergency and feeling like a burden, wondering if it would have been better to not have done. Or knowing the migraine would lessen of hands were strong and willing enough massage, but none exists anywhere near.
And it’s my fault, I’ve been sick too long, and asked too much to expect any better. I should be grateful.
But I’m in a dark room feeling lied to every time I hear “I love you”.
The crushing guilt I feel to have written such a thing only amplifies my confusion. I used to be live with physical pain, but was emotionally stable.
Now I can’t go a moment without bracing myself for a thousand possible scenarios. Which is incredibly difficult when every avenue is controlled by someone else.
I can only imagine the weight on his shoulders, he married the woman he imagines I could still be.
I think the most exquisitely tender thing anyone has ever done is scoop me up; get propositioned enroute as we were going for Lebanese Sweets; and once I was settled?
He leaned forward, looked at his Hermione Jojo, and said "tell me about her."
Say their name. Love them out loud. Feel it all.
If you do not have a Ron in your corner, write it out as if you do. Have your Harry scoop you up when the sky falls in the following year.
Make peace with the Kintsugi Rocket Scientist. Let a New Italian look at you like you are magic. Come home.
Ask. Please. Just ask.
You'll be pleasantly surprised by who will come running to take you home.
We did not know that ladies of the night frequented a family establishment. Perhaps we missed a Golden Partners In Platonic Crime adventure. (Holy, Betty White.)
Firstly, thank you Tyler for such a needed forum that has already started a new wave of connection it seems. I shall revisit this page to learn, to feel, to offer and receive light from all those in this community you've created. There are many things that bring us together, 2 biggies are certainly love and loss. As a human, an empath, a recovering bedside nurse of 25 years, a death doula, a mom, a motherless daughter and lastly, a diehard advocate for allowing space for all the feels all of the time, I feel drawn to this signal fire more than any others. Coming out of the woodwork here after months of processing (years actually, to be honest.) When you know your bleeding into the cells of others around you, even unintentionally, you know it's time to start doing the real work of healing or maybe better to say trying different things with the intention of seeking the float vs dreading the tread of barely staying above the water's surface. All that to say, I do not ever pretend to know anyone else's grief and what that has done to their inner spirit and soul but I do know profound personal grief from multiple unexpected losses. To witness both good and bad death for over half my lifetime, both professionally and personally, has created this inventory of so many unknowns. Witnessing my beautiful mother being taken off the ventilator after complications following an elective surgery was the day I was forever changed. That came just 5 months after witnessing my cousin, who was like my sister, being taken off the ventilator from a very traumatic season of neglect, both in 2021 in the midst of all the pandemic grief. To know grief is to respect it in all forms. To allow the time it takes to somehow carry it with us in a way that eventually also allows joy to coexist. To expect the unexpected, always. To realize that life was never meant to be linear and the only consistent thing in this world is truly its inconsistencies. Holding space for each and every one of you, all the experiences you have mentioned and all those that may have gone unmentioned. We, as a collective, can provide a touchstone of sorts to offer that peace of mind of knowing you are not alone. We are here, Tyler is holding the light for us to feel safe and to see in the dark again. May you all be well enough for today.
I think that grief is love; or the mourning of love lost. But there would be no grief if that love had never been there. We will all know grief in some form and the older we get, the more it seems to seep into our reality. I have found that the more grief I experience, be it from loss of loved ones or the loss of love itself, I am better at helping others carry their grief. Grief creates empathy. It allows us to feel deeper, not only our own loss but that of those around us. We need more empathy. So in a way, we need to know that pain of loss so that we are able to stand up and do all we can to stop others from having to feel it whenever possible. And we need to know that we can reach out and depend on others who will help us to carry the burden when it hits us whether like a sucker punch to the gut or a slow motion train wreck we can see coming but have no way to stop. Find grace in grief. Find the strength to let those around you see your pain, and hold you up while you live through it. And in return, be present for those around you in their loss.
These are the goals we need to have in our inner circles of trust, but also as we look out to the broader world and force ourselves to see the suffering of those both near and far and do what we can to help them to end their suffering.
I just hope we can figure that part out before it's too late.
Grief hit me hard this year with a death of a family member that I wasn't close to but that has subsequently affected my relationship with the rest of my family... I feel like I'm seeing people more clearly and it has become a bit isolating in that regards because i haven't been able to deal with them. I'm still dealing with my own grief. But I've found its good to acknowledge grief whether big or small. Certain poetry has helped me do that, just another reason why it's important.
“We were never built for this, not really, and I think we know it now.”
I am reminded by this comment of something my late brother told me some months before he passed. He told me that one of the biggest challenges of his disease was coming to terms with the finality of his time on earth. And once he had conquered that challenge, he was actually more comfortable with his treatment to fight the disease. Once he accepted the probability for loss, it was easier for him to focus on staying alive. And yet when he did leave us, and despite his noble attempt to prepare us, we felt abandoned and lost. We openly wept for a life lost too early. I grieved publicly with an online eulogy. And then per his wishes, forced myself to focus on care of others left behind. And with that as my perspective… I suggest we not hide our grief, nor allow it to consume our lives. No words on a page solace the solitary public exposure and visible visceral pain that is experienced with one’s personal grief. No reputation is too fragile to succumb to the expected tears and lamented cries from a stranded survivor. For open grief is universally accepted as an emotion we empathize and respect intuitively. We accommodate those who must release the chains of incredible sadness (and sometimes anger) which are fastened to the soul. But we allow for this knowing that, once purged, the injured soul is allowed to heal, to find new elements filling the void of empty attachments. I believe Buddha’s comments on the Noble Truth are not to simply accept suffering in life, but to recognize that it is an essential part of life and is included in our perpetual search for enlightenment. We are not here to dwell upon any single emotion, but to provision for and apportion them as we do for all. So, for me, I respect and honor anyone’s need to express their grief, as it is a very real and natural emotion. But as part of the our journey through life, after we are knocked down, emote our grief, and heal; we get back up and carry on.
Grief has it's own time table and Ii have found I need to flow with it. The griefs have been many. My mother at 58, the year I was getting married. My father. My brother's sudden and unexpected death to broken heart strings [really]. Grandparents. Uncles ... and countless cats over my many years.
[And Tyler, I know you said not to account for the griefs, but I must.... it's important.]
Yet the one grief that has not yet healed, and there are tears welling up in my eyes as I write this, is for the cat who chose me to be the love of his life. My greatest and most unconditional love ... Kismet.
I don't speak of the depth of my sorrow, grief, and guilt over his death. I mean, he was a cat after all. [bullshit] I don't speak of it because it really stings ... and most people do not understand how a cat could cause such feelings. But there are tears streaming down my face. I don't speak much about his death because ... I feel I murdered him. ...
He had diabetes. We caught it too late [looking back it was years of symptoms] and ... I could not afford his treatment, which he was not responding to any longer. I made the always difficult decision to euthanize him. I stayed with him and he seemed to know and made no fuss over the sedative prior to the euthanasia as most animals do. The vet said cats who are suffering usually respond like that. I rested my head on his belly. I wept. I apologized.
I realize that in keeping my feelings hidden about how he died, and how I felt about it, within I have broken a rule of my very own especially when dealing with grief ... Dive into the pain. Acknowledge to pain. Be compassionate to one's Self as the pain processes. Be honest in the depths. Float, and allow others to hold you in the water.
Depression has taught me a lot about how to be gentle with the hard times. To allow them to ebb and flow and honor the unique timetable that grief presents ... everyone is different. Everyone is correct. Depression also taught me the importance of being real with others about it while seeking support from the outside, the inside begins to make some sense. ... and even as the years progress, it will still reach out to remind you from time to time. I never did this with Kismet.
I never grieved properly for Kismet due to the guilt I feel. But it seems as if telling you all this and the tears that have flowed have done some good. I feel an open wound in my chest, yet, I also feel unburdened.
Thanks for allowing this forum, Tyler. Thanks for allowing my randomness. Thanks for reading this everyone.
My all Beings know peace.
I’m so sorry you have carried this guilt, never a burden yours but all mamas do, for the one your soul loved and lost. Wish I could hug you. I have known animals heart to heart like this. I’m believe we will meet them again soon on another plane.
Much love.
Grief, in my short experiences, is not something one ever truly gets through. It changes us in ways, big and small. It leaves holes in us that try though we may will never be filled in the same way by what was once there. Grief simply exists, there is no way around it. It takes courage and strength to walk the unending road alongside it and not let go of that defiant spark of hope. There is no magic one size fits all to grieving. All we can do is the best that we can on any given day. Feel the tidal waves of emotion as they come, give ourselves the grace and time to process and be gentle to ourselves as we aclimate to this new version of us. Perhaps most important is to find little bits of light that can spark joy and gratitude to keep us afloat during the hardest days.
I am grieving the life I've lived so far. In the past two years I've lost everyone. By death. By distance. By cutting ties with toxic people who were hurting me. Sure I have found peace, but it's cost me dearly. I know how selfish this is. And I know people have worse griefs. However, I am mourning who I used to be, who I am now, who I could have been. I am left with no one in my day to day life that I can count on. It's just me now. Left to pick up my own shattered pieces and find a new way to assemble them. It's lonely. And sad. And isolating. I desperately want to be like other people. I even miss the old times. When I did have some support, even if I was required to pay it back six fold. At least then someone was paying attention to me and would miss me when I didn't show up. I wish it didn't have to be one life or the other.
I understand this.
I understand what it feels like to be lonely while never being alone. I wonder if I ever have your courage to be alone if I will miss when I felt this lonely.
I’m sorry for your pain of the person you used to be, I can’t wait to see who grows out of your bravery.
Lol.
Selfish is untrue.
You put yourself first.
If you don't, it gives everyone carte blanch to suck you dry.
I am so pleased for this Selfish You x
TKG.
Don't you know?
You are the light that guides us home to ourselves; to our authentically vulnerable & brave selves. Raw & unvarnished.
Lady G. is the Cherry on the cake. Like a bakewell tart, if she was ever so inclined to go British with her baking.
Grief, like the Truth, is rarely pure & never simple.
As you know, I stand on the shoulders of giants. Souls who are much, much bigger than our 30%-smaller-than-the-Mean bodies give us credit for.
But this? We are the Legacy that those before us invested in. We are the ones who inherited the Earth from our Children. Who need to be taught well.
And this, this is the greatest of our Eight. I will rip out the teeth & eyes & throat & eviscerate any form of toxic masculinity that deigns to touch the best thing since fairybread.
Three days with London. No more. Gallifrey will never fall. Not for him.
And so, here be a Thumbelina.
I hope you get to connect & feel less alone.
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=Yl-AawPAA_A&t=121s&pp=ygURbWljaGVsbGUgbG8gcHljb24%3D
After all, has Mumford & dearest Marcus taught us nothing?
X
Grief is so cruel. Loss is so unfair. It doesn’t matter how you frame it, grief sucks.
I am deep in grief right now, not for the first time in my life, though this one is hitting hard.
What’s getting me through is not forcing myself to move on. I sit and write down precious memories and let myself weep.
I am letting myself be sad and angry and disbelieving. I am letting myself say I am not okay and This is not fair and I want him back.
❤️
Grief is the price we pay for loving with alacrity.
The minor falls & major lifts of it all?
What makes us.
The last few years I have been living in a haze, oscillating between confusion and mourning.
It wasn’t Covid, or losing loved ones, it the was the uncovering, an exposure of what may be true?
It’s the question, “how long are you going to grieve?” asked as I cry the day after they pass, or when we celebrate when a loved one would have turned 100.
It’s having to ask to be held while in the middle of a medical emergency and feeling like a burden, wondering if it would have been better to not have done. Or knowing the migraine would lessen of hands were strong and willing enough massage, but none exists anywhere near.
And it’s my fault, I’ve been sick too long, and asked too much to expect any better. I should be grateful.
But I’m in a dark room feeling lied to every time I hear “I love you”.
The crushing guilt I feel to have written such a thing only amplifies my confusion. I used to be live with physical pain, but was emotionally stable.
Now I can’t go a moment without bracing myself for a thousand possible scenarios. Which is incredibly difficult when every avenue is controlled by someone else.
I can only imagine the weight on his shoulders, he married the woman he imagines I could still be.
I think.
I think the most exquisitely tender thing anyone has ever done is scoop me up; get propositioned enroute as we were going for Lebanese Sweets; and once I was settled?
He leaned forward, looked at his Hermione Jojo, and said "tell me about her."
Say their name. Love them out loud. Feel it all.
If you do not have a Ron in your corner, write it out as if you do. Have your Harry scoop you up when the sky falls in the following year.
Make peace with the Kintsugi Rocket Scientist. Let a New Italian look at you like you are magic. Come home.
Ask. Please. Just ask.
You'll be pleasantly surprised by who will come running to take you home.
To clarify!
We did not know that ladies of the night frequented a family establishment. Perhaps we missed a Golden Partners In Platonic Crime adventure. (Holy, Betty White.)
Firstly, thank you Tyler for such a needed forum that has already started a new wave of connection it seems. I shall revisit this page to learn, to feel, to offer and receive light from all those in this community you've created. There are many things that bring us together, 2 biggies are certainly love and loss. As a human, an empath, a recovering bedside nurse of 25 years, a death doula, a mom, a motherless daughter and lastly, a diehard advocate for allowing space for all the feels all of the time, I feel drawn to this signal fire more than any others. Coming out of the woodwork here after months of processing (years actually, to be honest.) When you know your bleeding into the cells of others around you, even unintentionally, you know it's time to start doing the real work of healing or maybe better to say trying different things with the intention of seeking the float vs dreading the tread of barely staying above the water's surface. All that to say, I do not ever pretend to know anyone else's grief and what that has done to their inner spirit and soul but I do know profound personal grief from multiple unexpected losses. To witness both good and bad death for over half my lifetime, both professionally and personally, has created this inventory of so many unknowns. Witnessing my beautiful mother being taken off the ventilator after complications following an elective surgery was the day I was forever changed. That came just 5 months after witnessing my cousin, who was like my sister, being taken off the ventilator from a very traumatic season of neglect, both in 2021 in the midst of all the pandemic grief. To know grief is to respect it in all forms. To allow the time it takes to somehow carry it with us in a way that eventually also allows joy to coexist. To expect the unexpected, always. To realize that life was never meant to be linear and the only consistent thing in this world is truly its inconsistencies. Holding space for each and every one of you, all the experiences you have mentioned and all those that may have gone unmentioned. We, as a collective, can provide a touchstone of sorts to offer that peace of mind of knowing you are not alone. We are here, Tyler is holding the light for us to feel safe and to see in the dark again. May you all be well enough for today.
I think that grief is love; or the mourning of love lost. But there would be no grief if that love had never been there. We will all know grief in some form and the older we get, the more it seems to seep into our reality. I have found that the more grief I experience, be it from loss of loved ones or the loss of love itself, I am better at helping others carry their grief. Grief creates empathy. It allows us to feel deeper, not only our own loss but that of those around us. We need more empathy. So in a way, we need to know that pain of loss so that we are able to stand up and do all we can to stop others from having to feel it whenever possible. And we need to know that we can reach out and depend on others who will help us to carry the burden when it hits us whether like a sucker punch to the gut or a slow motion train wreck we can see coming but have no way to stop. Find grace in grief. Find the strength to let those around you see your pain, and hold you up while you live through it. And in return, be present for those around you in their loss.
These are the goals we need to have in our inner circles of trust, but also as we look out to the broader world and force ourselves to see the suffering of those both near and far and do what we can to help them to end their suffering.
I just hope we can figure that part out before it's too late.
Grief hit me hard this year with a death of a family member that I wasn't close to but that has subsequently affected my relationship with the rest of my family... I feel like I'm seeing people more clearly and it has become a bit isolating in that regards because i haven't been able to deal with them. I'm still dealing with my own grief. But I've found its good to acknowledge grief whether big or small. Certain poetry has helped me do that, just another reason why it's important.