As a species we have developed a fear of pain out of a need for survival. We run from it, we avoid it, we lie about it. We lie to ourselves, our doctors, our friends and families. We have forgotten or never learnt that pain, in the body or the mind, is a communication to us that something is wrong and needs to be dealt with. Pain informs us that current circumstances and patterns are hurting us and need to be changed. Our bodies know when something is wrong, so they send us warning signals letting us know when it’s time to pay attention and course correct.
Physical ailments are often obvious, there are symptoms and doctor’s can validate your claim that something is wrong -- no one is going to question why you are limping when a medical professional has confirmed you have a broken leg. A less identifiable and socially acceptable form of pain is grief. For whatever reason, grieving losses in our lives other than the death of a loved one is something that we have not been taught how to heal from, nor how to let those around us heal from.
When our lives change drastically, when something in our day to day is bringing us dissatisfaction or sadness, there are warning signs that are uncomfortable. Often we take a ‘grin and bear it’ attitude to our lives until things become so unbearable that our bodies, relationships, or minds break. Then we’re left standing in the wreckage of what once was wondering how we couldn’t see the signs. But we did see the signs, we just ignored them. The same is true for when a relationship ends or a person we love dies, but in reverse. The major event occurs, and then we get the warnings. These messages are telling us that some major shift has happened, and it isn’t just business as usual. The warnings are telling us that if we do not give ourselves time to grieve and process this loss, then the repercussions will be even greater.
I’ll repeat that: ignore pain and things will only get worse. If we are to live fulfilled and present lives, we have to grieve that which we lose in the process. A life without any grief isn’t really a life.
We as a culture are unable or unwilling to sit with pain -- our own or that of those we love. After all this time of not being chased by lions, we are still too afraid to do anything but react when we become uncomfortable. So we stay dumb. We run, we avoid, we rush into new relationships before we’re ready. We say, “he was an asshole,” when someone dumps our best friends because we think that is a useful thing to say. (It’s not. It means nothing. Stop saying it.)
My relationship just ended and my heart is hurting these days. And people seem intent on trying to take it from me. Those around me are insistent on rushing me out of it or moving it along. Pain sucks but it isn't’ something that can be avoided. If I don’t let it do it’s work on me now then it’s just going to show up in destructive ways moving forward. This process is showing me how clearly I could have done better in the past when those around me were hurting. I desperately tried to take pain away from those I loved and couldn’t bear to let them hurt as they needed to.
As more people say to me, “you’ll meet someone else,” or “you have so much to offer someone,” or any of the other things we say to people who are grieving a relationship, I just stare at them blankly as if to say, “yeah, and?” First of all, that was never in question. Second of all, what does that have to do with what I am experiencing right now? I’m not choosing to linger here, I’m letting my body lead the way. I’m still exercising, I’m still getting up in the morning, putting on my lipstick and going to work -- and I’m still crying every day. That is my reality. It feels like I keep asking people what the weather is outside and they keep telling me what time it is. All I need -- all anyone needs when they are hurting or grieving -- is a witness. Someone to hold space with them. Someone who isn’t afraid of what it is we are going through (or someone who can push that aside and hide it really damn well).
I am in this. I am not afraid to be in this. I see now that comforting someone is a lot simpler than we’ve been making it. The most important thing for any of us to do when someone is hurting is the exact same thing that the most important things in life require of us (work, family, art, exercise, relationships, parenting): just show up. Just be there. Don’t try to take or change any of someone’s experience. Of course it hurts seeing those we love in pain. So let it be uncomfortable, because that is what they are feeling. Being a true friend and ally to someone means not being afraid of their pain and experience. Not forcing them to be anything other than what and where they are in any given moment.
Right now I am hurting. Deeply. And that in and of itself is a sign of growth. Because there was a time in my life when I was too afraid of pain to ever let myself feel it and I was just as scared of letting others hurt. Many times I wished I could take someone’s pain from them, and I had a ton of coping mechanisms in place to help me avoid ever having to feel my own bad feelings. Developing a regular yoga practice has helped me with this, now I am more able to let things feel as they feel instead of trying to maintain control of it all.
I don’t want to be sad any longer than I have to be, but these feelings are confirming that the relationship that recently ended was valuable and a hole is to be expected as a result of its loss. I know that if I can sit with it, with the discomfort and the feeling that there is too much space inside of me that once would have required massive amounts of shopping or junk food to fill up, I can let it serve its purpose. Loss, when given room to stretch out, creates space; which is another way of saying depth. I am grateful that one day I will be able to love more deeply because of this time of grief.
Physical ailments are often obvious, there are symptoms and doctor’s can validate your claim that something is wrong -- no one is going to question why you are limping when a medical professional has confirmed you have a broken leg. A less identifiable and socially acceptable form of pain is grief. For whatever reason, grieving losses in our lives other than the death of a loved one is something that we have not been taught how to heal from, nor how to let those around us heal from.
When our lives change drastically, when something in our day to day is bringing us dissatisfaction or sadness, there are warning signs that are uncomfortable. Often we take a ‘grin and bear it’ attitude to our lives until things become so unbearable that our bodies, relationships, or minds break. Then we’re left standing in the wreckage of what once was wondering how we couldn’t see the signs. But we did see the signs, we just ignored them. The same is true for when a relationship ends or a person we love dies, but in reverse. The major event occurs, and then we get the warnings. These messages are telling us that some major shift has happened, and it isn’t just business as usual. The warnings are telling us that if we do not give ourselves time to grieve and process this loss, then the repercussions will be even greater.
I’ll repeat that: ignore pain and things will only get worse. If we are to live fulfilled and present lives, we have to grieve that which we lose in the process. A life without any grief isn’t really a life.
We as a culture are unable or unwilling to sit with pain -- our own or that of those we love. After all this time of not being chased by lions, we are still too afraid to do anything but react when we become uncomfortable. So we stay dumb. We run, we avoid, we rush into new relationships before we’re ready. We say, “he was an asshole,” when someone dumps our best friends because we think that is a useful thing to say. (It’s not. It means nothing. Stop saying it.)
My relationship just ended and my heart is hurting these days. And people seem intent on trying to take it from me. Those around me are insistent on rushing me out of it or moving it along. Pain sucks but it isn't’ something that can be avoided. If I don’t let it do it’s work on me now then it’s just going to show up in destructive ways moving forward. This process is showing me how clearly I could have done better in the past when those around me were hurting. I desperately tried to take pain away from those I loved and couldn’t bear to let them hurt as they needed to.
As more people say to me, “you’ll meet someone else,” or “you have so much to offer someone,” or any of the other things we say to people who are grieving a relationship, I just stare at them blankly as if to say, “yeah, and?” First of all, that was never in question. Second of all, what does that have to do with what I am experiencing right now? I’m not choosing to linger here, I’m letting my body lead the way. I’m still exercising, I’m still getting up in the morning, putting on my lipstick and going to work -- and I’m still crying every day. That is my reality. It feels like I keep asking people what the weather is outside and they keep telling me what time it is. All I need -- all anyone needs when they are hurting or grieving -- is a witness. Someone to hold space with them. Someone who isn’t afraid of what it is we are going through (or someone who can push that aside and hide it really damn well).
I am in this. I am not afraid to be in this. I see now that comforting someone is a lot simpler than we’ve been making it. The most important thing for any of us to do when someone is hurting is the exact same thing that the most important things in life require of us (work, family, art, exercise, relationships, parenting): just show up. Just be there. Don’t try to take or change any of someone’s experience. Of course it hurts seeing those we love in pain. So let it be uncomfortable, because that is what they are feeling. Being a true friend and ally to someone means not being afraid of their pain and experience. Not forcing them to be anything other than what and where they are in any given moment.
Right now I am hurting. Deeply. And that in and of itself is a sign of growth. Because there was a time in my life when I was too afraid of pain to ever let myself feel it and I was just as scared of letting others hurt. Many times I wished I could take someone’s pain from them, and I had a ton of coping mechanisms in place to help me avoid ever having to feel my own bad feelings. Developing a regular yoga practice has helped me with this, now I am more able to let things feel as they feel instead of trying to maintain control of it all.
I don’t want to be sad any longer than I have to be, but these feelings are confirming that the relationship that recently ended was valuable and a hole is to be expected as a result of its loss. I know that if I can sit with it, with the discomfort and the feeling that there is too much space inside of me that once would have required massive amounts of shopping or junk food to fill up, I can let it serve its purpose. Loss, when given room to stretch out, creates space; which is another way of saying depth. I am grateful that one day I will be able to love more deeply because of this time of grief.
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