The Weight of Grief Endures | That’s Not a Bad Thing

I’ve been through a lot in my relationship career, if we can call it that. I use that term as a coverall for what has been more complex as an emotional roller-coaster. I don’t imply a negative connotation with that phrase, for as we all know, the most fun rides have both highs and lows. And, to be fair, even when you are upside-down, you still get perspective…

On the highlights of the relationship rides, I have to say that I’m incredibly grateful for several men I’ve met along the way. Many have taught me a lot about the world given their unique backgrounds and travels. I’m grateful they’ve taught me a lot about myself given how they inquire and what they press me about. Dating brings new vantage points to understand and discover as you learn about others’ journeys in an up-close way, through a different lens than your own.

AND—I’ve been through the downturns as well. A marriage and divorce which was rounded out with addiction and infidelity, another long-term relationship that ended in a painful betrayal. And, in my dating journey, a physical assault that quite literally left me bruised. I’ve been through layers of grief related to relationships that can only be described as, well, heavy.

That’s what grief can feel like. It is heavy. It is the weight in the pit of your stomach. Death, trauma, and loss from any origin, will at first feel like a very heavy weight. In some cases, it may be a hold-you-in-bed kind of weight.

In my experience, as heavy as it is, grief changes over time and plays a role as it transforms. For me, it has gotten lighter, softer, and serves as a backdrop to prepare for what comes next. I smile when I think about what can soothe hard and heavy grief—delicate tears, a soft tissue, a gentle hug, a warm breeze, or sun rays on your face. The heavy weight of grief is often equally met and remedied, if only for a moment, with the most gentle of what life offers. A loving hand extended to hold another close.

With each passing day, your life’s most difficult times will transform to serve you and make your ready for what’s next, whether it be joyous or difficult circumstances; I think both benefit from the grief you now own. For grief builds brawn, not in a hardened way, but in a way that gifts a newfound, resilient wisdom to know that when you meet it softly—with kid gloves—grace and ease returns again.

If being on the emotional rollercoaster is hard, for sure no one wants to stay on the struggle bus. The grief that you’ve experienced doesn’t have to sit stale, stagnant and weigh you down. It can instead remain a vital part of you that reminds you what is most important. That is how grief has transformed for me; it’s no longer a wildfire, but like an inner glow that tells me what matters most. It’s a piece of me I want to preserve because once you’ve lost, you more clearly know what you want. A quote that came into my life at the beginning of Beyond Words Co., and inspires me still is “If the world is cold, make it your business to build fires.” -Horace Traubel

When I say the weight of grief endures as I do in this title, I mean that your loss, your grief, is now forever a part of you. I don’t think the goal should be to erase grief, or to remove it’s weight entirely. But perhaps it can weigh differently over time—for the goal of a weighted blanket is to provide comfort, not to suffocate.

So, your enduring grief is not a bad thing. In fact, it might just remind you of what is important to you, and better prepare you for what is yet to come. For as my favorite artist, Florence and Machine sings loudly—”it is always darkest before the dawn.” Find those who have been through the darkest, who have endured and continue to do so, and they will help you get to that dawn.