Learning to grieve

In the last year and a half, I have experienced many things, not the least of which were the death of my beloved grandmother and the end of my first serious relationship. Both were big events that sparked a tremendous change in how I lived with myself and dealt with the world. And today, as I am still going through significant aftershocks, most of which positive, I find myself wondering: is grieving in a good way the most important thing one will ever learn? And this begs another question: why was I not taught this as a child? Why was the transformative nature of grief not taught to me as soon as I was old enough to understand language? Why did I need to wait thirty years to begin to grasp what our culture, our parents, everything around us denies: without healthy grieving, change is ten times as hard.

This past year, things for me have been, and are still, moving at a pace I can barely keep up with. Almost everyday, my connection to my true self and to the invisible reality that surrounds us gains a new aspect, sometimes in ways I could not have foreseen. This transformation is thrilling, but it comes with its lot of letting go and grieving. If I hadn't learned, thanks to wise, generous women, how to welcome grief and make use of it, I could never go as fast as I have been going. Even as I discover new gifts and abilities everyday, and as my confidence soars, most days I find myself having to consciously sit down and cry for what I am losing.

Don't get me wrong: I would never trade what I have gained to get my old self back. Some of the things I am presently grieving are my identity as a victim, "normality" (even though I've known for a long time there was no such thing, it's still a difficult illusion to give up), unawareness, a sense of having no responsibility to myself, the luxury of looking to other people to guide me in what I don't yet understand, the illusion that I'm in control, or that I am the owner of my gifts, my propensity to allow myself compromises on things I know I cannot compromise on anymore, masks I use to be more acceptable in social situations. What I am celebrating is infinitely more precious, though it comes with a great sense of responsibility, which may just be another word for true personal power. 

As I go through this process, pain is becoming my friend. In the end, it is not, in itself, good or bad as we were taught. Pain is just pain. It can be experienced, fought, denied, expressed ; nothing changes the nature of it, nor its presence. So why are we not taught its gifts? The gift of listening, to ourselves and to others. The gift of knowing that welcoming it is actually propelling us forward, to a version of ourselves we couldn't have dreamt of. The gift of recognizing it, sitting with it, letting it exist, letting it pour out of us without holding on to it. Why are we told to stop crying instead of being encouraged to cry as something healthy and no more distressing than any other human experience? Why are we not taught an awareness of ourselves that would allow us to know when pain needs to be acknowledged? 

Understand me: I am not talking about trauma. Pain associated with trauma is a whole other beast, though healthy grieving is also instrumental in recovering. But I am talking about all the small or big losses that accompany any evolution and that, instead of becoming a big heavy ball that makes each change more difficult, can be released as we go, leaving us lighter to face a new self or new circumstances. After all, change is the one marker or being human; our ability to change who we are in the world, not in our essence, but in how we express it, is undeniable and often quite dramatic. 

Each day, as I sit on the floor consciously grieving what I'm letting go (or trying to let go!) of, I find myself in pain, yes, but mostly I find myself overwhelmed with gratitude for all the help I am getting, for the opportunity to change, for the opportunity to do this work, for the opportunity to be there with myself without once wondering whether I have a "right" to be upset, even as I am equally exhilarated by the new world that is opening before me and the role I can feel I have to play in it. I can only hope that when the time comes, I will be able to model this for my children, so that they can go through their life lighter than I have been, and fully embrace change when it appears instead of letting their old skins define them for fear of the pain that comes with shedding them.

NB: as you might have guessed by this post, as I am changing, the tone of this blog will change as well...