The Quiet Griefs We Carry

As we move through fall and the holidays draw near, there can be a quiet pull, an invisible spotlight on the places where we hold grief. It’s easy to push aside the losses we experience throughout life. The peculiar thing about grief, though, is how subtly it can lie beneath the surface. We may find ourselves feeling out of sorts, angry, or holding chronic tension. Even things that once felt easy may become a struggle.  The loss of loved ones, or of certain chapters in our lives, can leave us feeling lonely, ungrounded or void.

In different ways, each of us carries grief of some kind. We may not have lost someone close to us, which is most commonly associated with grief, but we may carry smaller griefs that accumulate over a lifetime. Relocating. Friendships that shift or fade. Leaving a job, even when the next one is exciting. Not getting the promotion we worked toward. Changes that disrupt our regular routine. Losing a pet. Children leaving home. Divorce. Menopause.  Weight gain or loss.  A changing body.  We may also carry the sorrows of the world: suffering, destruction, and lives lost in other places.  There may also grief for our planet, as we watch forests disappear, species become extinct, and seasons and weather grow more extreme.  Ancestral grief and the weight of history can layer within us as well.  Energetically, we feel the weight of it all.  Frances Weller speaks of five gates of grief, offering a way to recognize the losses we carry, even when we don’t think of ourselves as grieving.

Sometimes we may notice that we’ve forgotten about these losses, or they are less palpable, and this can bring its own kind of grief: the grief of moving on.  When we’ve lost loved ones or welcomed new friendships and relationships, we may suddenly realize we’ve stepped forward without someone, which, perhaps, we once imagined impossible to do.  And while many people think grief has a timeline, eventually coming to an end, I don’t think the absences ever fully disappear.  Instead, they change how we move through life.  In this way, rather than ‘moving past it,’ we learn to move with it, and grief becomes part of who we are, honoring what we’ve loved and lost, and recognizing how we’ve still managed to live, albeit differently.

As a social species, humans were never meant to bear grief alone.  And as we process and embrace our grief, connecting with others may bring relief.  Being in community, amongst others sharing in the experience of grief, can bring catharsis and healing on many levels.  Yet, community and hearing of others’ experiences can also awaken an awareness of something else that feels missing. We might see friends or family members sharing time together, or hear of places they’ve traveled, or new things they’ve tried.  We may grieve that these connections or experiences are missing from our lives.

One of the greatest gifts we can give ourselves is to honor these many different forms of grief. You may notice tension or a sense of bracing in your body, even when you can’t quite name what you’re holding. We may call it stress (which may certainly be part of it), but perhaps there is also something asking to be felt and witnessed, rather than pushed away.  When we acknowledge the grief we hold, we give it space to breathe. You might even notice yourself breathing a little easier after naming what feels missing. Once we recognize grief, it can be tempting to move through it quickly, to reach that sense of completion. But what if you open to another way of holding your grief: to letting it be, without needing to change it?  Perhaps in this inquiry, you’ll notice any pieces that are ready to soften or be released, maybe creating room for something new.  And other pieces may need or want to remain with us, offering a quiet reminder of the love, hope, and connection we’ve known.

As you move through this season of fall and the holidays, there may also be room for gratitude.  Even when facing that promotion that didn’t happen, or mourning a relationship that drifted away, or missing a loved one who is no longer here, or facing the suffering that continues in the world, we may choose to remember what still fills our hearts or gives us a sense of possibility. Gratitude doesn’t have to erase grief; the two can sit beside each other. When it feels right, we might gently ask what has emerged from the space that loss has left. What have you perhaps learned about yourself?  Did an unexpected opportunity arise?  Has an ended relationship helped you understand what you want in the next one?  Or can you recognize your resilience to move forward with intention and compassion, even after losing someone you love?  Know that there is no need to find an answer before you’re ready, maybe just a willingness to acknowledge that loss often opens us to something new or different.

Grief lives within us, and we are not alone in our journeys. Pausing to consider that others may be grieving something, too, can reconnect us with our shared humanity. To be human is to experience cycles of life and death.  We know these in our own lives, in the seasons, and in the relationships that ebb and flow.  As you move into the holidays, perhaps go gently with yourself and others. This can be a tender time to listen inward and notice what lies beneath the surface. If something is ready to shift, give it room. And if it isn’t, let that be welcome, too. Like the phoenix, we may rise anew - not by leaving our grief behind, but by making room for it as we continue to embrace life with wholeness and grace.

By Jennifer Rizza, Holistic Wellness Coach, Reiki Master, Therapeutic Yoga Teacher

*In my own journey, it was only after the impactful loss of my father's passing that I stepped into wellness, with the hope of helping others find their way forward, through grief, loss and change.