The Pot of Grief
We are a year into this pandemic and I’ll will be honest with you - I don’t think I am doing great. I am relieved that vaccines are being distributed and there seems to be a light at the end of the tunnel, but I have been in a large pot of grief for a while now and can’t seem to find a way out.
I realize that the large pot is a strange metaphor, but for me it seems fitting. I feel like my grief has been on the stove simmering for some time. It is filling my house up with its aroma. It is leaving it’s mark in every nook and cranny of my house and seeping from our pores. This is the reason why I need to step away and go for long walks.
What we are going through is hard, I know you don’t need me to say that, but I do believe we need to hear it again, or maybe I need to hear it again. If you are a parent with kids home it is non-stop. My children are missing their friends and normal extra-curricular activities, it makes us realize even more how connection is so crucial to our well being.
I am curious how this may change the way we do things going forward. Will we slow down and enjoy the people in our lives instead of returning to movement at lightening speed? Can we take a moment longer in our steps, driving from here to there, and stop to say hi to a neighbor? The busyness of life was mocking us and we don’t need it. This pandemic as allowed us a chance to prioritize, know what holds the most value , and concentrate our efforts on those things.
I think part of my grief stems from realizing that so much of what we are doing on this planet is a game that we created ourselves. Connections are what is real and may be where we were falling short - not just connection to our family and good friends, but strangers as well. This virus has taught us how we are all connected.
For me, the best part of this time has been reconnecting daily with seven women from my childhood. These women who once held me through a difficult adolescence are now holding each other in a time when our lives have broken open at the seams. We reconnected, jumped in, got real, and got vulnerable. We have shown our wounds and are helping each other heal. They are helping me walk through this storm. I realize that a lot of what we are talking about, we wished we did as young girls. We wished that conversations around our bodies and relationships were not so taboo back then and how so much of our lives would be different if we thought we could open up.
My hope through this maddening year is that we realize that we all need to open up more and that we all need to hold space for one another. All of us are big pots of steaming grief from not just from the past year, but from other things we might have left unsaid, from actions we wish we could take back, from lovers lost, to friends who are gone, and more. Grief is something that lives with us forever, it just takes on new forms and communicates differently over time. What we know is that it affects us and everyone around us. For my son, his grief shows up in tantrums over school, quitting video games, little expectations that are not met. For m y daughter, it's reading endlessly, not wanting to do any chores, and pretending not being with her friends is fine. My husband, it is pacing the house, making longer lists, checking the budget for the fifth time. For me, it's the constant flurry in my head that won’t stop, it’s anxiety over everything I can think about worrying about, and feeling like my body will never have energy again.
As we continue to muddle through this strange time, let’s try and remember the little things we have learned. For me, it’s that the people in my life mean everything to me, that the little connections we make from time to time hold a value that lasts. I really love the sound of birds singing to one another, and cuddling in the morning with my children is the greatest life force, that I wish would last for eternity. Whatever it is that you are learning, hold onto it and give yourself some grace in this time. Again, it’s hard and grief likes to hang around, especially when each day we are learning to let something or someone else go.