Grief doesn’t have a timestamp

On Father’s Day, I’m pausing and I feel compelled to share this with you.

A few months ago, a client shared with me her experience of fostering dogs — both the joy and heartbreak of loving an animal and having to give it up again when the time comes. I observed of her grief in that moment, “It takes courage to choose to get your heart broken over and over again.” That deeply resonated for her, and she shared that she felt understood in that moment. 

Then this past week, I was sharing with my coach how I have had this undercurrent of sadness running in the background for the past two weeks, with no discernable reason for this feeling. I don’t know about you, but I was conditioned to find reasons for my feelings, otherwise I’m not allowed to have them or worse, feel them. I tend to do the same with my needs – but that is a story for another day. 

I was intrigued by how, once we are aware of the conditioning we have or the patterns we run, they become sneakier and more subtle. So, I recognized that I was doing it again – I was trying to rationalize my feelings, instead of simply listening to my body and its wisdom, and feeling the feelings that were here. 

Once we started talking about everything that is occurring in this season of life, it was actually very clear why I was experiencing so much sadness. My coach said two things to me that I feel are worth repeating…

The first is, there is no timestamp on grief. It has been 15 months since my father died. I recognized that now that we are past the one-year mark, I have stopped giving myself permission to feel my grief, even though, I rationally know that it’s only been 15 months, that this wound is still new, and that people can carry grief and loss for years and years after the event. 

I was struck by how much grief can reshape our lives when watching Remarkably Bright Creatures with my kids the other night. If you haven’t watched it, give yourself that gift. I’m also claiming it as my permission to let the tears come.

My heart and body are still feeling the grief, even though my mind wants to be done with it, and suggests that perhaps I’m being “too indulgent” with my grief. The mere fact that I continue to have dreams about my father, means that there is still unprocessed grief here. So, why would I not let myself feel what is true?

The second thing she said was that I love so much and so deeply, so it makes sense that it hurts so much. I appreciated her reflecting that back to me. Sometimes just having someone else name the truth has it land better. I choose to be intentional in my family relationships, because connection matters to me. I choose to love fully, fiercely, openly. Just like my client, I choose to love unconditionally, and to get my heart broken, because when we love, we are choosing to get our hearts broken. 

There will be moments of conflict or misunderstanding. Relationships will complete. Some will end in painful ways. Some will end in mutual agreement. When we love fully, we know that there will come a time when we will say our last goodbye. Either you will die, or someone you love will die. This is life. It’s both beautiful and painful at the same time. It’s both magnificent and magical, and sometimes cruel and confusing.

When those I love are in pain or suffering, my heart hurts. My over-functioning often takes the form of carrying the emotions of those around me who resist feeling their feelings. I do a lot of emotional caretaking, especially in situations where I have unconsciously deemed it my responsibility to be the one to hold space for others.

Does it make me good at what I do? Yes, it does. And if I’m not careful and intentional, I can easily run out of emotional bandwidth. So, with holding space comes the responsibility to continue to create the capacity to hold space, and also being discerning of who needs my gifts most at this time. As my coach has often said over the past year, “Sometimes you are the one holding space. Sometimes you are the one who needs to be held.”

Wanting to always be the one to hold space, and not letting myself be held, is over-functioning, because life is a dance of give and take, of providing and receiving. Whenever there is an imbalance, Life will move to correct it. 

So, I trust that you will forgive my ramble here and perhaps let it be an invitation for you to feel whatever you have been resisting feeling. If there is grief, let it be here. If there is joy, let it be here. If there is fear, let yourself feel it. There is power in simply acknowledging what is true in the body, even though the mind will try to disagree, or interpret it as something wrong or problematic. 

Sometimes simply letting ourselves feel what we feel can create tremendous relief and often we find deeper clarity on the other side. When we can slow down to the speed of life and love, we see what’s true in this moment, and then we can choose what we want to do about it from a place of intention and clarity, rather than from a place of avoidance, distraction, panic, or fear. 

If your heart is tender right now, because you are still reeling from loss, I see you. If you are feeling lost and confused right now, I see you. If you are feeling hopeless or stuck, I see you. If you are feeling joyful and grounded, I see you. If you are feeling excited, exhilarated, inspired, I see you. None of this is right or wrong, good or bad. It’s simply part of the human experience, and we get to be in the fullness of each of our experiences, willing to feel the highs and lows without needing it to be different or making one state better than another. They all matter.