The Myths Around Grief Series: Myth 3 "Grieve Alone"

I locked myself in a dark closet once…

If I close my eyes, I can almost take myself right back to that day…

To that closet.🚪

It was Christmas break and I had written an article for my Seminary newspaper. 🗞️

I had vulnerably shared about the abuse I suffered as a child, how I had overcome, and was now in a better place.

It was my first time publicly talking about it, so, of course, I was anxious. But I also felt convicted about sharing my story. 

I had told my two siblings about the article and that it had just been published. They were so excited for me and we went to go look it up online.

My article was there in black and white. 📰😍

And below it was tons of positive remarks and praise. 🙌🏾

I sighed with relief. 

And then I checked my email. 

At the top of my inbox sat an email entitled, “HOW COULD YOU?!” 😡

The email was from a fellow classmate who I rarely got along with. So perhaps it shouldn't have been a surprise that she hated every single word of my article. 

But hate on it—and me—she did! 😔

She had a bunch of different reasons for shaming me. Reasons that I won't get into. But I now know her vitriol had nothing to do with me. 

But on December 23 in 2012, I wasn't able to see that.

And her response shut me down. 😶

And I immediately ran away from siblings and into the bedroom closet.

I locked myself in, sat on the floor, and began to cry… alone.

Myth #3: Grieve Alone

Yes, we're back to the myths around grief, friend.

Funnily enough, I was reviewing these myths with a client just yesterday and she said: “Why do you call them myths, Hannah?! These statements are lies!”

And she's right—they are lies!

But we call them myths because these false beliefs are socially accepted as true. 

And the only way to create a healthier society is to debunk the lie and reveal the truth.

So let's quickly unpack “Grieve Alone” + suggest a solution or two to help ourselves stop giving into the lie. 👇🏾

It is common practice in our society to isolate ourselves when grief overtakes us. Not only is it a common practice, it's socially acceptable! 

Historically, parents have encouraged their children to go to their rooms if they want to cry.

Or we apologize for tears that are pleading to be set free. We wipe them away and wait till we are alone to let them out.

We've been conditioned to believe that if we have grief, the best place to process it is by ourselves.

And that couldn't be further from the truth! 

Letting your grief be witnessed is good for you and good for others. 

💜 Good for you, because you're able to let it out. 

💜 Good for others, because it gives them permission to do the same.

It's one of the healthiest and fastest ways to healing. ❤️‍🩹

But there are two important caveats to this: 

1️⃣ sometimes you genuinely need time and space alone.

2️⃣ not anyone and everyone is safe to process with. #facts

First, it's always a good idea to take a breather and gather yourself. 🧘🏾‍♀️

That's the value of responding versus reacting, right? 

But when that “breather” becomes a lifestyle or a habitual pattern whenever heartache comes, then it's time to stretch yourself and risk sharing your heart.

… with a safe person. 👐🏾

Knowing your safe people and places is critical when it comes to grieving with others.

Not everyone is capable of listening with love. Not everyone is capable of listening with respect. 

Make sure whoever you share with is capable of both. ⤵️

And if you don't have that safe space, that's what I'm here for! 

To be that safe space and to listen with love, judgment free. 

So take a moment to take stock this weekend: 

❔Who is your safe person, First name / dear reader?

❔Where are your safe places?

❔Do you feel loved and accepted with those people and in those places?

You never have to bear your burdens alone. 

The more safe spaces we can create in our culture for people to process their emotions in a healthy way, the less fallout we'd see.

BTW, want to know my favorite part of of that Christmas in 2012?

It's when my sister—who is my safe person—knocked on the closet door and said, “Hey, let me in.” 

That was one of the most healing moments of my life. ❤️‍🩹