One thing guaranteed in this life is that we are going to experience grief at some point throughout our time on this earth. When we are talking about grief, we are usually referring to the death of a loved one. The kind that comes with an obituary, a funeral, one of those meal trains where neighbors bring you casseroles on end, and quiet condolences given to you by coworkers. The kind we have been trained to handle, maybe not perfectly, but it’s been shown on television, talked about in the media – so we are as prepared as we can be for it. We, for the most part, can relate to another person who loses someone close to them, at least on the surface. That kind of grief, the straight forward/ objective kind, is very very real. But what I’ve come to know, as a therapist and a human also moving through the struggles of everyday life, is that grief isn’t always presented to you wrapped neatly in a box with a bow. It can be piercing and immediate but other times, it shows up slowly and quietly – playing in the background of your day to day life. A 50lb + piece of baggage that you carry around everyday that no one else sees.
Sometimes, grief shows up without a warning, so bright and blinding for you but invisible to everyone else. Sometimes, grief doesn’t come with closure or with condolences. Oftentimes it’s walking away from someone who is still very much alive, or mourning being a mother without ever conceiving a child, or letting go of a job that you once thought would be your forever. This grief is often coupled with mourning a version of you that was hopeful, and certain, and different. That’s okay. Of course that changes you, let it, don’t minimize it.
Unfortunately, there is no DSM diagnosis for the silent loss of the ideal mother-daughter relationship or for the grief of letting someone go who used to be the other half of you, your best friend, that you shared your whole life with. There isn’t a treatment plan for the person who has decided to not to become a parent or for the one who is still hoping and praying that they might. But that is real grief too, your body feels the loss even if others can’t see it.
Dr. Pauline Boss coined the term, ambiguous grief – it refers to losses that come without closure, ones that are unclear, unresolved. Often when a person is physically present but emotionally absent, like a neglectful parent or someone struggling with dementia. Or even experiencing the loss of a relationship, a job, or a role but the idea of that thing is still alive inside of you. It shows up in your everyday thoughts, your dreams, your “what-ifs.” In therapy, we also discuss disenfranchised grief – this grief is the kind that isn’t acknowledged by society because it doesn’t fit the typical description of loss. It is taboo so to speak and wouldn’t be validated by friends or family. For example the loss of a relationship that your friends didn’t ever view as “real” or serious enough, but it still breaks you just the same. Grief that isn’t accepted or recognized typically gets suppressed leading it to fester becoming anxiety, irritability, exhaustion, shame, etc. Leading to the individual blaming themselves instead of grieving something that no one else gave them permission to mourn.
Today’s world is one of reinvention – we can embrace a new trend to become a new version of ourselves, hop to a new job instantly, pick up and move across the country, or practice healthy ways of boundary setting. Reinvention can be healthy and even freeing, there is power in letting things that no longer serve us go but where is the space to grieve them? We leave relationships, friendships, jobs that were once the center of our whole world. We dismantle entire versions of ourselves to become more aligned. But often we are told to do it silently, struggling all alone. Sometimes leaving something is the “right” decision but that doesn’t mean it was an easy decision for you or one that doesn’t affect you every single day.
Grief does NOT require devastation to be valid but it does ask to be felt.
You may be asking yourself, this feels validating but what do I do with it? What do I do with the sorrow and grief that didn’t get a funeral? As a therapist, I find myself sitting with people who don’t even realize that they’re grieving. They beg for clarity, motivation, and direction but describe feeling disconnected from themselves and stuck. Sometimes all a person needs is to give themselves permission to feel. To say “that hurt me, it mattered and it was a huge loss.” Honor what they are feeling. Beyond that I encourage you to name your grief regardless of the circumstances. Even if it seems silly or small or insignificant. Maybe it was even your choice to leave but name what you’re grieving – a relationship, a city, a version of you – give it its space so that you can honor it. (Suggested journal prompt: what am I grieving that no one saw me lose?) Secondly, say your goodbyes, however it feels right to you. Give it a funeral, write a letter to that person and burn it, light a candle and say goodbye out loud – whatever feels aligned with you. Saying a physical goodbye regulates your nervous system and offers your brain closure when you may not have gotten it. (Suggested journal prompt: If I were saying goodbye to (insert relationship, person, job, city, etc. here) what would I say?) Lastly, let someone else hold it with you. A therapist is always a healthy option. Unspoken grief, that we let fester within ourselves can distort our reality and how we view ourselves. Talking with someone, or therapy can help you process that grief and release it. You don’t deserve to feel shame from unprocessed grief. It is okay to talk about something that still hurts you, give yourself permission to do so.
If you found yourself here you probably are carrying something in secret, quietly that no one else sees but it is weighing you down and it’s getting too heavy to keep carrying. I see you. If you are longing for a version of your life that never metabolized, or missing someone you still love, or grieving a goodbye that had no words – you are not weak, you are mourning. That is brave. Mourning isn’t always loud. You are allowed to embrace how you feel. Go break down over the thing you walked away from, cry over the things you outgrew, unravel over the life you never got to have, just feel for a small amount of time. Not all griefs get a funeral but that doesn’t mean that they don’t all deserve to be mourned.
