You give yourself permission to grieve by recognizing the need for grieving. Grieving is the natural way of working through the loss of a love. [It] is not weakness nor…
On the last real night of my marriage I made a pot of bean soup. At about 11 o’clock, the soup was ready, scents of garlic and bay leaf wafting…
Is accepting help hard for you? You’re not alone! While you may be quick to help other people, you resist accepting help yourself. But during times of loss and grief,…
You give yourself permission to grieve by recognizing the need for grieving. Grieving is the natural way of working through the loss of a love. [It] is not weakness nor absence of faith. Grieving is as natural as crying when you are hurt, sleeping when you are tired or sneezing when your nose itches. It is nature's way of healing a broken heart. - Doug Manning
In today’s world, grieving well can be difficult. Those who are hurting often feel like they have to "be strong" for others, whether it be family members, co-workers, or even strangers. In many ways, culture encourages us to hide our pain and appear like we've "got it all together" within days of losing a loved one.
Many of us even shy away from pain, fearing that if we let our feelings have free rein, we will be seen as “out of control.” Our minds rebel against the idea of anyone seeing our pain, how deeply affected we are, how not okay we feel inside.
But despite what culture says, what people may think, or what you’ve grown up hearing, expressing grief is the first step on the road to healing.
At its heart, grief is the natural result of love. When you love others deeply and wholly, you open yourself up to the grief that comes when they leave this world. And while death is a part of life, knowing that it’s coming doesn’t make processing a loss any easier when it happens.
Did you know that the word “bereaved” literally means “to be torn apart”? By that definition, when you’re grieving, you are being torn apart inside. It’s no wonder that you may feel tired, withdrawn, and quiet after a loss. During times like this, remember to be patient and allow yourself to go through the grief process.
Nationally respected author, counselor, and grief educator, Dr. Alan Wolfelt, puts it this way: “Over many years of walking with people in grief, I have discovered that most of us are hard on ourselves when we are in mourning. We judge ourselves and we shame ourselves and we take care of ourselves last.”
The simple truth is that it’s okay to hurt. It’s okay to NOT “be strong” in the face of loss. It’s okay to give yourself permission to grieve, to give outward expression to the internal anguish of your soul. You should feel free to express your emotions, not hide from them or feel ashamed of them. They are what they are, and they are a natural response to what you’ve lost.
By giving yourself permission to grieve, you begin a journey. The journey will require a lot from you, but it’s a road worth taking.
On the journey, you may feel many things: pain, loneliness, restlessness, vulnerability, fright, peacefulness, comfort, and love. As Dr. Wolfelt tells us, “Never forget that the death of someone loved changes your life forever. It’s not that you won’t be happy again. It’s simply that you will never be exactly the same as you were before the death.” Life will not be the same as it was before, but you can find a way to move forward.
Other people may not understand the depth of what you are feeling, and they don’t have to. You don’t need permission from other people to grieve. No matter how you express your grief – silence, weeping, screaming, quietness, thoughtfulness – it’s never going to fit into any particular mold. In fact, there is no “grief” mold. Every single person grieves the loss of a loved one differently, and that’s as it should be.
As you begin your personal grief journey, remember these tips from Dr. Wolfelt:
No one else is exactly like you, and the relationship you enjoyed with your loved one was one-of-a-kind.
Sometimes it’s helpful to talk with a safe person about the emotions swirling around inside you. Or you can write your thoughts down in a journal. Find a way to express what’s on the inside.
You will be more tired, more emotionally sensitive. Learn what is too much for you right now and take things easy.
You don’t need to walk this journey alone. If you don’t have someone who can provide the support you need, find an organized grief support group.
Take comfort in rituals as you remember a loved one. For example, you could watch your loved one’s favorite movie every year and keep the ritual (tradition) alive as a way to remember them.
Write down the meaningful moments. Tell the stories. Share the essence of your loved one’s life with others. Cherish your memories; they will be a continual reserve of peace and comfort.
Finally, remember that grief is not an issue to be solved. It’s a natural part of being human, and it’s a process you must face for however long it takes. You may naturally prefer to ignore your pain, but trying to ignore it won’t make it go away. In fact, stuffing grief away can have serious consequences, and in some people, can lead to complicated grief or depression. Rather than avoid what you feel, give yourself permission to grieve. It just might be the best gift you can give yourself during a time of loss.
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On the last real night of my marriage I made a pot of bean soup. At about 11 o’clock, the soup was ready, scents of garlic and bay leaf wafting through the apartment. I went into the den, where he was watching the Yankees play the Toronto Blue Jays, and invited him to have some.
We sat at the kitchen table, not talking much, or at least, not talking about anything that I remember. “That was great,” he said, when he was finished. I probably said, “Thank you.” He stood to go back to the game and I said, “Well, I have to get up early tomorrow. Goodnight.” And I went to sleep. I didn’t say, “I love you.” I didn’t say, “I bless the day I met you,” or “I am so glad that we married each other.” I just went to sleep.
The next time I saw him, he was face down on the bed, not breathing, and although he was in a coma for two weeks, and I believed he would recover for most of that time, in essence, I now know, he was dead.
When something like that happens there are so many regrets, and among the greatest is each and every time that you could have verbally or by action said “I love you.” I regretted not learning to care about everything he cared about. I grieved for every time I got upset over something inconsequential—and trust me, most of it seems inconsequential when the love of your life is in a coma.
For the first week he was unconscious, I promised him the moon. I told him that if he would just open those big brown eyes, I would never get mad about anything ever again. He could leave his socks two inches from the hamper, and I would thank God that they were there. I would dress up more and take time out for lunch whenever he asked. We would watch football games together and talk about politics. I promised him prime rib in wild mushrooms and red wine, and tuna au poivre perfectly rare, on the Royal Doulton with candles every night.
The second week, I came back to earth. I stopped promising him the perfect wife. Instead I promised him Me. I promised that I would at times be impatient or scared, and that he would still have to take out the garbage. I promised that I would not always like his jokes, and that I would still nag him to exercise. I promised him that we would have interests in common but not all of them, and that we would still have things to be tolerant of in each other. I promised him bean soup.
But as part of bean soup, I promised him that I would love him as much as before or maybe even more and that I would try never to forget what we had almost lost. I wish I had been given the chance.
Marriage is not always made of rose petals and moonlight and perfect understanding. Sometimes it is made of kids with the stomach flu, and flights that have been delayed, or even just made of work and dinner and running out of light bulbs. At times like that, sometimes the marriage goes on autopilot and love is subtext, an article of faith. Then, the dust clears and we remember. And as you have no way of knowing when you are young, but as you come to know when you’ve been married a while, that is more than fine.
Reasonable minds may differ, but for me, it is the dailyness that I love the most about being married. I liked the anniversary dinners and the romantic moments, but even more I loved the mundane workings of our daily lives, coming home to trust and commitment and inside jokes, and even the predictable irritations like those socks.
When marriage is lost in the way that mine was, it is the everyday memories that mean the most. The time we both had bad colds and spent the day in sweatshirts, bringing each other tea. The way he took in the dry cleaning every Friday. Or the nights, like the last one, where we didn’t really talk but shared the deep ordinariness of a quiet Sunday night with our daughter asleep and the Yankees playing for him and some music for me, and a great big pot of soup.
From the book Chicken Soup for the Soul: Grieving and Recovery by Jack Canfield, Mark Victor Hansen and Amy Newmark. Copyright 2011 by Chicken Soup for the Soul Publishing, LLC. Published by Chicken Soup for the Soul Publishing, LLC. Chicken Soup for the Soul is a registered trademark of Chicken Soup for the Soul Publishing, LLC. Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
Is accepting help hard for you? You’re not alone! While you may be quick to help other people, you resist accepting help yourself. But during times of loss and grief, accepting the caring actions of others can make the difference between a good day and a bad one. While accepting help may require vulnerability, you will greatly benefit from receiving love and support.
So, why is it so hard to accept caring help from other people? In reality, there’s no one clear reason; in fact, reasons for refusing help may differ considerably from person to person. To discover more about your own motivations, take a moment to read the following list of the most common reasons why people refuse help. Do you see yourself?
From an early age, our society tells us that we should be independent, self-sufficient, and capable members of society. We don’t want to appear weak or seem like we don’t “have it all together.” But what do we really gain from rejecting the help that others offer us? More work and more stress.
What’s worse is that it is all for the sake of keeping up appearances, which will never result in deep or meaningful connections with others. On the other hand, allowing yourself to be vulnerable with others can lighten the load and strengthen your relationships.
Some of us struggle with feeling like our needs might be a burden to others. It’s not that our needs aren’t legitimate; it’s just that we don’t want friends or family to take time away from their own lives to help us.
When you lose someone you love, you may feel bad that a friend wants to babysit your kids, clean your kitchen, or cook some meals. But really, when you accept the help that’s offered, a door to deeper friendship is opened.
Some people struggle with feeling like accepting help makes them beholden to the person who has offered assistance. But consider when you offer to help someone – are you thinking about when you will ask them to return the favor? Or do you genuinely want to help?
For most of us, the answer is that we genuinely want to help and have no ulterior motives. So, if the grief is overwhelming and someone you know offers to help, take them at their word and consider accepting the assistance. What do you have to lose?
It can be hard to admit that we need help. And maybe we could do everything all on our own, but life is so much easier when someone is there to lend a hand. In reality, we don’t have to do everything ourselves, but breaking away from habits is hard.
It really is okay to accept the kindness of others. You can say “yes” to the casseroles, the offers to go to the funeral home with you, or the invitation to sit with you in silence as you grieve. Social connection and community are part of our human make-up, so it’s okay to allow others to surround you and support you at a time of grief and loss. After all, it takes more internal strength to accept help than to shun it.
Many of us strive for control in our lives, but in some areas, control is just an illusion. You may be able to dictate certain aspects of your life, but there is so much that is outside of your hands.
And during times of grief, you need to express your emotions, and to do that, you must relinquish the tight hold you have on control. The reality is, you don’t have everything under control, so why not acknowledge it and accept help from others?
Some of us feel like we don’t need other people or we'd rather take care of everything ourselves. This gut reaction is often rooted in past pain and disappointment. When other people hurt us or let us down, it can feel easier to do everything ourselves rather than risk being wounded again.
If that’s you, the truth is that you need other people, even if you don’t want to need them. And yes, people are messy, but even in the mess, there is great beauty, especially when you lower your walls and allow someone to serve you with caring actions.
The real question is, what’s happening inside when we refuse to accept help when we actually need it? Are we putting on a happy face when we really need a shoulder to cry on? Perhaps we are afraid of being vulnerable and admitting our needs. For many of us, the root cause is fear.
Author Margie Warrell, in an article for Forbes magazine, put it this way: “Fear gets in the way of asking for help. Fear of overstepping a friendship...of appearing too needy. Fear of imposing....[or] of revealing our struggle and having people realize we don’t have it all together. Too often though we 'tough it out' rather than reaching out to ask for help when we need it most. Fear gets the better of us while depriving others of a chance to show they care and share their gifts.”
Admitting you need help can be scary, but you need people in your life. It’s a proven fact that healthy relationships decrease stress levels and improve quality of life. So, what’s keeping you from accepting the caring actions of others? Are you afraid that your grief will make them turn away? That the fact that you aren’t okay will make them view you differently? There’s no need to fear.
It is natural and human to grieve and fall apart sometimes. Accepting help will actually draw caring people into your inner circle. It may be difficult at first, especially if you are hard-wired to refuse all assistance, but in time, accepting the caring actions of others will become easier, and your life will be so much richer.