Good Grief

by Adrienne Burton

Insight Seven: May I heal my burdens - Which allows my parts to express their inherent gifts

The one constant thing in life is change and all change involves loss of some kind—letting go of what was in favor of what is becoming. Even though what we give up in the process of change may be something we are happy to let go of, it is loss nonetheless—and every loss involves grief. Grieving doesn’t always require an extensive process. In some cases, it can be as simple as acknowledging what is going away and offering gratitude for what it brought into our lives. This was the case when I was involved in an auto accident and the insurance company decided our vehicle as unrepairable after an accident. I never really liked the vehicle we had and was actually excited at the prospect of getting a new vehicle. Yet, when we went to retrieve our belongings from it before sending it to the salvage yard, I took a moment to say thank you for serving our needs over the years and for keeping me safe in the accident. I also took a photo to commemorate our time together before moving on to the next vehicle.

Grief looked completely different when my mom passed away suddenly and unexpectedly in November 2016. My mom was a person that I talked to every single day. It was a rhythm by which I marked the passage of time in my life. When I was lonely, I could call. When I was angry, I could call. When I was excited and happy, I could call. No matter what I was feeling, I always had my mom to talk to about it. She rarely had advice to offer, but no matter what, she would listen to all my ramblings until I was done. So ironically, when I first heard the news that my mom had passed away, I immediately wanted to call my mom.

This loss rocked my whole word and my sense of identity. My system was overwhelmed and completely blended. It felt like the rug had been pulled out from under me and I couldn’t find my footing. Every single day that went by was a reminder of the loss, and every emotion that would rise and fall highlighted the fact that I felt alone with my pain. My Chief Supporting Officer was no where to be found and I didn’t know how to move forward.

Needless to say, this grief followed a dramatically different path than snapping a goodbye photo and moving on to the next. And it was made all the more challenging because I was the strong friend that everyone else in my life relied on, so they had no idea how to help me in my darkest hours. In fact, many of them just wanted me to feel better, and in some ways, unintentionally tried to push the process along so that they didn’t have to endure the discomfort of my discomfort.

Nobody likes to sit in uncomfortable feelings and consequently our protective parts may try to avoid, deny or diminish the discomfort of grief. This can look like staying busy with distractions that shift attention to “positive” or “productive” feelings. Or, simply suppressing or numbing feelings in an effort to move on. Grief is a winding and sometimes circular path that may cover the gamut in terms of thoughts and feelings—all of which are valid and appropriate. It is important to cultivate a nurturing and open relationship between our grieving parts and Self, so that parts build trust and feel safe to speak out about their thoughts and feelings; and so that Self can embrace those parts with compassion and curiosity to acknowledge their value and learn from their inherent wisdom and perspective.

As the earth itself has seasons of letting go, where the leaves and blooms of summer pass away, let us too make space for the natural evolution of life and the many changes that come and go. Perhaps you can set aside some time to sit with grieving parts and allow them to share the stories of their journey. Invite an exploration of the range of emotions from joy to anger to sadness and see how these parts might relate to them and what fears or needs they have as a result. And be sure to express your gratitude to the parts that share with you, and offer care and support to nurture them tenderly and lovingly—reminding them that they are always welcome.

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