And could you keep your heart in wonder at the
daily miracles of your life, your pain would not seem
less wondrous than your joy;
And you would accept the seasons of your heart,
even as you have always accepted the seasons that
pass over your fields.
And you would watch with serenity through the
winters of your grief.
— Khalil Gibran
It there is one statement that summarizes most of the therapy sessions I have had with clients over the past 40 years it would be, “Help me make the pain stop.” Often this experience of pain, mostly psychological and emotional, but sometimes physical, is associated with a loss of some sort. It can be the loss of a loved one, a family pet, a job, social standing or status, or even the loss of a cherished dream or belief. The experience of this suffering is what most of us refer to as grief.
Conventional wisdom tells us that grief, from the Latin gravare, "to make heavy,” is a part of life. It’s normal, we are told, to feel sad, and heavy-hearted, when we experience a loss. However, under the sheer weight of this burden, little seems “normal” and many worry that they will be unable to hold up and carry on.
While all grief is connected to loss, not all loss leads to grief. Everyone can look back at their lives and count numerous losses that did not lead to a grief response. How is it that certain situations create such deep pain and emotional scars, while others leave barely a scratch?
The answer is that we often experience suffering in direct proportion to our level of attachment to that which was lost. The felt sense of connection to a person or thing will determine the degree to which one feels pain and direct the course of recovering from that pain. As an example, the loss of a job for someone whose sense of self-worth is defined by what they do for a living will likely feel catastrophic. The same experience for someone who has little sense of self invested in their work will not feel nearly as devastating.
Traditional grief work seeks to help individuals understand and work their way through grief, often based on the stages identified by Elizabeth Kubler-Ross: denial, depression, bargaining, anger, and acceptance. Those grieving are advised that these are neither universal nor sequential steps and that there is no set time frame for moving through one's responses to loss. Mourners are encouraged to seek support, express their feelings, and be patient with themselves while they find ways to move forward.
Common expressions during this adjustment period include, “I feel empty inside,” “My heart is broken,” “Life doesn’t seem real,” or “I feel dead inside,” The fear that underlies these statements is that one will not survive these experiences and that their broken heart can no longer sustain a meaningful life. Grieving itself becomes the source of pain, often long after the loss has been accepted. This explains why there are people who, in times of desperation, choose suicide rather than living with their grief, or who, on reflecting on the death of a loved one, will say that they wish that they were the ones who had died.
To find comfort during such times requires a new way of looking at grief. If we stop focusing on bringing “closure” to grief and instead see it as an opening into the very nature of life, we will experience what I call gralief—the relief that comes when we allow what is happening outside, and inside, ourselves to be as it is. From this acceptance comes the realization that not only are we going to survive the loss we encountered, but we will also survive the grieving process. With that relief comes a gratitude that arises from living through the pain and letting it teach us the wisdom of letting go of our attachments. This is not a detached life in which we care less, but one that honors the natural rhythms of life.
Gralief allows us to, as Khalil Gibran says, “watch with serenity through the winters of our grief.” This watching leads to the direct experience that it is not time that heals all wounds, it is the acceptance of the impermanence of all things that creates a space—which we often call perspective—around the happenings in our lives. In that space is peace, and in that peace is the understanding that even grief, sadness, and suffering come to an end in their season. It is the understanding that C.S. Lewis reached when he wrote, “Bereavement is a universal and integral part of our experience of love.”
The Grief of Grieving
14
0
24.04.2024
And could you keep your heart in wonder at the
daily miracles of your life, your pain would not seem
less wondrous than your joy;
And you would accept the seasons of your heart,
even as you have always accepted the seasons that
pass over your fields.
And you would watch with serenity through the
winters of your grief.
— Khalil Gibran
It there is one statement that summarizes most of the therapy sessions I have had with clients over the past 40 years it would be, “Help me make the pain stop.” Often this experience of pain, mostly psychological and emotional, but sometimes physical, is associated with a loss of some sort. It can be the loss of a loved one, a family pet, a job, social standing or status, or even the loss of a cherished dream or belief. The experience of this suffering is what most of us refer to as grief.
Conventional wisdom tells us that grief, from the Latin gravare, "to make heavy,” is a part of life. It’s normal, we are told, to feel sad, and heavy-hearted, when we experience a loss. However, under the sheer weight of this burden, little seems........
© Psychology Today
visit website
login
who are we?
contact us
qosheapp
Toi Staff
Gideon Levy
Belen Fernandez
Rami G Khouri
Mort Laitner
Donald Low
Ali Fathollah-Nejad
Nikkei Editorial
