Why don’t we talk about grief?

The title alone may have made you hesitant to continue reading, I get it. When we think about grief what comes to mind? Me? I think about wailing, moaning, sobbing, weeping, tearing at your clothes. Basically, I think about what Hollywood has created grieving to be, or what I’ve observed watching the news. Grieving is usually associated with what people do when someone they love or care about dies. Absent death, most of us don’t think about grieving, much less talk about grief. And yet, grief is complex and exists on a multitude of levels we may not otherwise contemplate. I wonder why we don’t talk about grief?

Where does grief reside?

18. The age when I first experienced death in my family of someone close and the subsequent grief. My grandfather died unexpectedly and receiving the news on the rotary wall phone in my dorm room in my freshman year in college, I collapsed to the floor. My legs unable to sustain my body. I felt the loss deep in my body, in my gut and the pain persisted for weeks. But your skin gets thicker through life and though I could trace the reasons, I’ve learned to hold grief I’m experiencing inside.

Tightly wound around what may otherwise be a molten center, my emotions are ready to ooze out and flatten all in their path. I am well familiar with the tightening of my gut and deep inhalation. And for as many tears as fell from my blue eyes over the years, they have been dry the past few. Atypically dry, perhaps even abnormally so. But do I talk about it? Of course not. Nope. Because I’m an adult now and it’s my job to handle my business…read that and other lies I’ve told myself in the upcoming series of the same name…not really, but I could (and couldn’t we all?)

What is grief?

Our good friend Merriam Webster defines grief as:

1a: deep and poignant distress caused by or as if by bereavement

b: a cause of such suffering life’s joys and griefs

I’d argue that Webster’s definition is a starting point. The multiple levels of grief push the bounds of a simple definition because when “…experience change, something has to die.” These words by Brené Brown have stuck with me because I would not have included change as a cause of grieving, certainly wouldn’t have caused me to talk about grief. Through observation though, I know it’s true.

And I can see it coming.

We can have grief within otherwise joyful experiences

Right around the corner, I’m moving from the city in which I’ve lived for 9 years across the county. I’ll be close to a larger portion of my family and that brings me great joy. It’s a both/and situation. I feel both joy at the closeness to family and impending grief at leaving a place where I’ve lived at lot of life. I’ll leave treasured friends. A state I was born and raised in and which – contrary to many – still love. A house which…if these walls could talk, boy howdy, they’d make the talk show rounds.

I’m joyful and anticipatorily grieving at the same time. Two opposite things can be true simultaneously.

When we experience grief, we need to recognize it for what it is

Our tendency is to rush past grief, but the risk is allowing pieces of it to lodge in our soul and continue to fester. Brené shared in this article about healing through grief:

“We run from grief because loss scares us,

yet our hearts reach toward grief

because the broken parts want to mend.”

We may not consciously want to recognize our grieving, but our bodies do. He or she tells you, deep inside, how you’re feeling. And that needs to be mended. We can make steps towards healing our grief by acknowledging it’s there. Talking about grief.

Grief is not limited to death of a body. Grief includes the death of an idea, a dream, a situation, a relationship, a season of life. Grieving can include embracing the joy you experienced, grief you’re feeling and giving it a place to be seen rather than rushing by with blinders on hoping to escape it. If you don’t want to talk about it, write it down, perhaps for no one else but you.  “Writing helps you metabolize your life,” Allison Fallon – The Power of Writing it Down.

No one escapes change or loss and the subsequent grief. As much as we’d like to deny it. You may have experienced loss in multitudes of ways. So, how can you grieve? How can you ‘mend your broken parts’? As I drive away from this house in less than two weeks, I will grieve. And…I will talk about my grief. We’re not on the journey alone and need to process our collective emotions – together. Be there for you and be there for your friends. Both/and…joy and grief.  Be Brave. Lisa

Why change is hard

change

Did you ever see the movie We bought a zoo? Yeah, me neither. Yet, it was the first thing that came to mind after I did a thing this week. I bought a house…in another state…sight unseen (I had a proxy)…on the other side of the country. Am I excited? Yes. Am I terrified? Yes. I am all the things. Lest you think I’ve lost my marbles; the purchase wasn’t entirely out of the blue. I’d been contemplating making a move because the bulk of my family is across the country, but the timing was ‘out there.’ And, the move won’t only be in my residence. All changes I desired. So, why did it feel like I’d swallowed wrong and was choking? Because change is hard.

Why change is hard

It is. Change rarely rises to the top of anyone’s bucket list, and with good reason. When we go through change, whether it be in our personal lives, as an organization, or our thinking around a long held believe, we’re leaving something behind. We allow a process, a relationship, a practice, a belief to die. Although our destination is positive, it doesn’t diminish the fact that we’re leaving something, and that thing may be one we treasured.

When I make a significant change, my inner voice begs me to return to the old way. Because many of us, myself included, are creatures of habit. We might park in the same place, eat at the same restaurants, order the same food, drive the same way to work according to our habit. Introduce a new variable and it throws us off our game. Our internal memory craves to return to the old way. I use the word discombobulated to describe the feeling inside when parts of my world in a flux, in the midst of change. I desire to restore order. But that may not be what is best.

Change is well studied

Google wouldn’t pull up 5,370,000,000 results (literally) when I type in change if it were a well-oiled machine. People are continuously working to process improve it and producing models for how to do it well.  As defined by Meriam Webster, change is a verb with a variety of applications:

1a: to make different in some particular; b: to make radically different; c: to give a different position, course, or direction

2a: to replace with another; b: to make a shift from one to another; c: to exchange for an equivalent sum of money; d: to undergo a modification; e: to put fresh clothes or covering on

Nearly every single definition applies to my situation. Not even kidding. Words like ‘radically’ land with me because that’s what change can feel like.

Because change is hard, you can find 8 models for change in a 2 second internet search. One I’m partial to is by Kurt Lewin which has 3 phases: Unfreeze, Change, Refreeze. Unfreeze challenges the way things are done; in Change we look for new ways to do things; and, our change takes hold in Refreeze. A similar process is Form, Storm, Norm, Perform. You create, brainstorm ideas, create new standards and processes and finally, perform.  We transform through the change process over and over in our personal and professional lives.

Why some change feels harder

Despite, or maybe, in spite, of our regular journey through change, some are markedly harder than others. When we change, in the words of the Brady’syou’ve got to rearrange. Buying a zoo, er…house across the country, isn’t the only change I’m making. For the past four years, I’ve wrestled with the direction of my career. After 30 years in the same field, I’ve been itching to transition into a new capacity. Specifically, coaching. I became a certified coach and operate a side business. But without full attention, the side business hasn’t gained traction.

I’d ruminate about leaving my job and branching out on my own. I’ve worked since I was 13 years old but always for someone else, which brings stability. On my own? That’s a white knuckled drive on a snowy mountain road. But, early in 2020, after rolling it around in my head for 3 years, I was ready. Ready to make a plan that is.

And, as fate would have it (as fate does), a friend from my coaching program asked if I wanted to start a business with her. Since that phone call in the Spring of 2020, we’ve formed a company, Wayfinders Talent, and are in the form/storm phase. We’ll be coaching leaders to bring out the best performance in themselves and others. It’s the culmination of several years of unfreezing.

Once you decide to change, then what?

Which means I’m transitioning out of my day job. Slowly at first, but eventually it will be time. I’m not exactly sure when, but it will be time. Akin to buying a home across the country, I’m excited and terrified at the same time about the transition. I’ll leave stellar people behind and that part of change is never easy. But I’ll be building a new business that will change lives.

Given that I am in the ‘creature of habit’ camp, I want to know what’s next. Biologically, our brains want to know how the story ends and change doesn’t always afford that. Again, change is hard. Does that produce stress in me? Yes. It would for anyone who’s similarly situated. I have to remind myself of what Glennon Doyle write in Untamed, “we can do hard things.” The only way we can get through change is…to change. I hope you’ll stick around for the white knuckled journey and consider what changes you’re making, or need to be made, in your own life. It may be hard, but it may be time. You’ll know if it is in your gut. I did. Be brave my friends. Lisa