An old friend of mine recently texted me. She asked me how I am doing with the empty nest. She admitted that she was grieving a little bit, in her new state of “just the two of us”. She is happy that her kids are doing well and living great lives on their own, but she misses them and feels a little lost in her new state of being.
It is so brave to admit when we are grieving, but yet this admittance is so necessary, for us to be able to process it, and to move through it. Why is grief so hard to admit to? We easily tell people when we are happy, or angry, or hungry, or frustrated, but we have a harder time admitting to the more vulnerable (but equally as human) emotions like sadness, fear, loneliness and grief and even, love. Are we afraid that we will get “attacked when we’re down”? Do we believe that we are the only ones who feel all of these emotions, from every category and version of mad, glad, sad and scared?
During a tough season in my life, I asked a trusted advisor, “What is wrong with me? What’s my disorder?” “You’re grieving,” he simply stated. And when he said that, I felt a mixture of relief, defensiveness, frustration, surrender and acknowledgment. I was sad. I was at a really low-point, but it gave me ground. It gave me a starting point to work from. There was nothing I needed to “fix.” There was nothing I needed to “fight.” There was nothing I needed to “avoid and distract myself from.” I just needed to own my own grief, to give myself grace, to let myself feel it, and by doing that, understand that my grief wasn’t going to engulf me. I could continue to live my life, alongside my grief, until that grief settled itself inside of me, no longer a gaping, bleeding wound, but now just a scar, nestled among other physical and emotional scars I have, that are just proof that I am courageously and curiously living a life, as a human on this earth.
My husband and I watched the first episode of the sixth season of Slow Horses last night. (If you haven’t already watched Slow Horses, start now. It’s a great series.) There is a scene where Gary Oldman’s character, Jackson Lamb (who is blunt, no-nonsense, rude, even gross, but utterly thrilling to watch) speaks to his underling, River Cartwright, about grieving the recent death of his grandfather, who raised River. These are the exact lines:
“The state you’re in, wound up like a spring.
You’re liable to go off half-cocked and get yourself in trouble.
I mean, you gotta either let it out or keep it in, but you can’t do both at once.”
This is great advice for any of us experiencing grief. Grief doesn’t just come from death. Grief is usually a common companion to any change or ending in our lives, even when the change is good and the ending is welcome. And as the saying goes, “Change is the only constant.” Therefore, it follows that grief is probably a relatively constant in our lives. We don’t want to accept this, because we forget that while grieving, we can also feel gloriously happy at the same time. We can feel every emotion in the book, while we are in a state of grieving. Grieving is just the natural process of accepting that a change has happened, and accepting all of the flood of different emotions that comes with any change. We can grieve gracefully when we don’t judge ourselves for our feelings. When we can allow ourselves to feel our feelings, and to accept that we are in a natural, human state of grieving, we are less likely to “go off half-cocked and get ourselves into trouble.”
I was on Reddit this morning, reading all of the gossip that is going on with Dolly Parton’s estate. Apparently, there is already infighting and deception, involving her family and her manager and others. One redditor said something to the effect, “You always see the worst in people during death, divorce and weddings.” Two of our sons got married this year. I had to giggle at this redditor’s statement, because honestly, before the weddings occurred, I could sometimes feel myself getting petty, and sometimes forgetting that the weddings were the couples’ special day and not anybody else’s. I had to remind myself that a wedding is just one day (albeit a very special day) in the span of decades of sharing lives together as a family. I had to remind myself, that big events make everyone’s emotions heightened, including mine. A dear one of mine, recently gave me advice about something entirely different. She said, “Let it play out.” And so, I did. And miraculously, the situation I was worrying over, is playing itself out perfectly. And so did the weddings. And I am so relieved and proud.
Surrender is not weakness. Surrender is acceptance. And with acceptance, comes the starting point of clear direction, and peace, and faith and true strength. And all of these things can happen at once, even in a deep, dark state of grieving. Accept. Surrender. Let it play out.
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.