Grief as an open door

Discovering, disconnecting and accepting it all

There’s a lifelong conversation we have with ourselves and one another that explores beginnings & ends and the meaning of it all. It’s all inevitable, we grow to understand. It’s all part of the cycle of life, but that doesn’t stop it from turning our lives upside down when it shows its face expected or otherwise.

The reality of losing someone we love isn’t just felt in the lack of their presence, it rattles in our bodies and manifests in the people around us. Grief shifts and manipulates itself to fit into the most private corners of our existence and the grandest of canvases it can muster up, all whilst keeping us asking how.

Throughout my life I’ve had my fair share of tough experiences, like much of the world I’ve experienced Depression & Anxiety, with a cherry on top being a skin condition as reactive as my mind. I had the angst of later teenage-hood resting on the broad shoulders of fragile mental health and the adulthood confusions punctuated by openings and closings of many a door.

Yet, early on in my therapy journey I was told, for over 20 years I was experiencing the manifestation of subconscious grief. The actions, or inactions, of my mind were inspired by this and my longing for spiritual connection existed at their core for my need to deal with this grief I didn’t yet have a name for.

I did the work, I continue to do the work and I believed the undulating shadows of grief were behind me, it seemed my family understood this love laden grief and I had support enough that I felt invincible.

Photo by Elijah Hiett on Unsplash

And then it happened again.

Climbing up the ladder of whispering burn out with the company of dark days and nights, grief visited my family once more. Therapy got me through this once before, so surely using those skills could benefit me this time, surely it would be easier this time.

Grief in adulthood threw me for a loop, I was dangerously intellectualising my every last feeling, whilst having the mutual support of my parents - being support and supported was the Venn diagram of grief I didn’t know existed and couldn’t figure out the equation to; As a young adult grief is different, it’s silly to say, but it teaches you how you want to live life by cherishing the moments that glow in the night’s sky. This time, we celebrated life, we mourned her loss by being together and experiencing the place she called home. Grief made us understand, grief made me feel changed and it disconnected me from some fallacies to connect me to something greater.

My intuition is stronger than it ever has been, my understanding of others more full and my empathy a fountain open to all. But grief makes you perceptive, it shows you in a year, who held your hand when you needed it, it shows you who distracted you by reminding you of the beauty of life and it reveals the falsehoods of others’ words. Words without actions mean nothing, a heart on Instagram can mean nothing without a “hope you’re okay” or true intention. I discovered the saddening reality that grief has a way of opening doors, it closes a life whilst shedding a light on those things that need to be understood. It is complicated and aloof under the redness of my skin, it is as spiritual as it is physical.

My grief is my teacher and I am forever grateful to have shared my life with people who knew only happiness and love. I am forever grateful to have my heart filled with the touches of those whose smiles shone the brightest.

It is easier now for me to let go with happiness and hope. It is easier to say goodbye knowing death does not mean forever. It is more sensical to live these days that I am breathing with peace and my forever love of my parents.

I am changed because of grief, I am supported not by others but my own understanding. I am love and grief and understanding and regret and hope and heart and everything else.

I’m sure it will happen again, I’m sure I will unravel at my seams but those who held my hand once, will do so again and grief will be my teacher once more.