My 2 Cents On Grief (Spoiler: We Suck At It)

I want to talk about grief today. It’s something that’s been weighing heavily on me for the last few months. I’ve been very lucky to have made it through over 3 decades of life without experiencing the loss of a (close) loved one. That sadly came to an end when my cat, the love of my life for over 23 years, passed away in August.

Since then, I’ve been swimming in uncharted territory barely able to keep my head above water. I know as well as anyone that healing isn’t linear, but I was so severely unprepared for what this journey would be like.

I started out very numb. Which to me, at the time, felt like an accomplished. Proof of how far I’ve come in my mental health journey. Proof of how resilient I am and my ability to bounce back from what has always been my greatest nightmare. My cat, Jewels, was so much more than just a pet to me. She was my security blanket. The one who held all of my sadness and anxiety when I couldn’t handle it on my own. The one who loved me unconditionally, despite my many flaws and big feelings. From the age of 10 to 33 - it was always just me and her. Feeling nearly nothing after she passed should’ve been a red flag but I convinced myself it was a result of all the work I’ve put in over the years learning how to manage my emotions and anxiety. I felt a sense of pride that I was able to carry on with my day to day - like I needed to prove to the people in my life and to myself just how strong I was and how far I’ve come.

It wasnt until 2 months later that things started to unravel. Reality started to sink in that this wasnt just a bad dream. That this was my new normal. I would get triggered by something or have a bad day and my built in best friend/emotional support system was no where to be found. I realized how much I had been depending on her throughout my life and how ill equipped I was to self-soothe. It finally sunk in that this wasnt just a trip where we would have to be away from each other for a little while - this was forever. The idea of never holding her, seeing her, hearing her again knocked me off my feet to the point I felt like I couldn’t breathe.

I was flooded with emotions and memories and I felt like I was truly drowning. I couldn’t make it through a day without breaking down. And I’m not talking about a short cry - I’m talking about crying so hard that you don’t recognize the sounds coming out of your body. Sitting on the floor for hours on end in excruciating pain, desperate for help or a sign from God that everything was going to be ok. It got to the point where I knew I needed to start building a support network around me instead of masking this side of my life from the world. So I started reaching out to loved ones, ready to finally express how badly I’d been struggling. Ready to start a conversation around death and grieving and how painful and confusing it was. Only to be met with…. crickets.

At first, I took it personally. I took it as a sign that people dont care. That my feelings were too much and too big. That I needed to go back into hiding. It took me weeks of failed attempts before I realized, it’s not that people don't care, it’s that people don’t know how to handle it. Society, as a whole, has not equipped us with the tools necessary to navigate these conversations or these emotions - as the mourner or the person looking to offer up support. The go-to tactic is to avoid. Carry on. Distract yourself! Get another pet! Do anything but be sad.

At first I thought maybe they were on to something. I was desperate to feel a sense of hope or any other emotion aside from grief. I’d always been sensitive and was no stranger to big feelings - maybe I was feeling TOO much. Maybe the people around me knew something I didn’t. But then it hit me - avoiding the pain only delays and extends it. We know this. I KNOW this. If there’s anything I learned from dealing with a debilitating anxiety disorder it’s that the longer I tried to run from it, the worse it got. You cannot escape these feelings. You have to sit with it. Feel it. Learn to not be afraid of it in order to truly move through it.

Let’s look at it from a purely logical stand point - My cat and I were enmeshed for 23 years. We spent every single day together for over 2 decades. How could I expect to feel anything different than I did? OF COURSE the grief is going to be all consuming. Of course it’s going to take me months, if not years, to recover from this. I lost the love of my life in the blink of an eye. Why am I trying to talk myself out of this? Why am I so afraid to not only be sad but to admit to others that I’m sad?

We’ve got it all backwards. Sadness is good. Sadness is necessary. Feeling, crying, screaming through your grief journey is NECESSARY. Where do you think those feelings go if you avoid them? They dont leave your body. They take up residence somewhere else and express themselves in the form of physical ailments or a serious illness. It’s going to demand your attention one way or another - why not give it the space to do so now? Why not honor your loved one by granting yourself permission to mourn their loss NOW while it’s fresh?

I have spent my life running from myself. Trying to mask my emotions out of fear that they were too much for others. That I was a burden unless I was happy and perfect. I can’t do it anymore. It’s not normal. We need to do better. We need more resources in place to assist those who are grieving. We need more people lifting the curtain on the ‘ugly’ (whatever that means). We need to learn how to accept and welcome the ‘bad’ emotions so we can properly show up for others when they need support. We will likely all experience grief at some point - it’s part of life. Why are we failing so badly at this?

I don’t know what the answer is or how I can contribute to this ‘movement’ but I have made a promise to myself and to my baby that I will start by allowing myself to grieve. Instead of filling up my calendar when I start to feel sad, I will sit down and allow myself to really cry. Instead of telling everyone I’m doing great! when they ask how I’ve been, I’ll be honest. Instead of focusing on work or being productive when I feel the sadness start to creep up, I will instead allow myself to sit. To think about her, about us. To stop running. I love you Jewels.