That’s what I’m noticing this week. That I’m walking around with a lot of grief. And I’m not alone.<\/p>\n
Aubrey Plaza talked about a <\/span>large ocean of grief that you sometimes dive into and get swallowed up by, and other times you walk by it and say, “Not right now.” But it doesn’t go away. It’s always there.<\/span><\/p>\n And I wonder if people know how close they are to their own pit of grief but don’t give themselves permission to slip into the dark waters now and then?<\/p>\n Collectively, we’re all grieving. <\/p>\n However, most aren’t willing to accept it, and even if they are, they aren’t sure how to explore that grief without being consumed by it forever. For some, there’s too much of it even to begin looking at it.<\/p>\n I can feel my pit when I slow down. It’s just under the surface.<\/p>\n If I resist the urge to reach for comfort\u2014scrolling, another iced coffee, a hit of nicotine to take the edge off, food to fill the hollow space\u2014if I stay with myself and let the feeling bubble up, I know it’s grief.<\/p>\n Deep sadness at what once was or what no longer will be. <\/p>\n And there\u2019s something enticing about slipping under the surface for a day or two and getting comfortable with it. Not having to change the way I feel. Walking through the world with a weighted blanket around my shoulders slowly keeping me low to the ground. <\/p>\n Letting tears roll down my face without wiping them away. Regardless of where I am or who sees me. The checkout line. The gym. On a walk with my aging dog. <\/p>\n Sometimes it’s subtle, just an inkling of a deep longing for something or someone that is no longer present. Sometimes it hits me in the chest with the force of a sledgehammer. <\/p>\n Sometimes I have no idea what I\u2019m grieving. And other times it\u2019s all too clear. <\/p>\n For the love that never was. <\/p>\n How I wasn’t held, seen, or cared for. <\/p>\n For all the moments they sent me to my room instead of asking me what was wrong.<\/p>\n Or instead of saying, <\/p>\n “Whatever it is, it’s okay. I’m right here with you. I might not know how you feel, but I’ll stay with you until you’re ready.”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n That’s all we want. <\/p>\n For someone to witness our pain and our struggle. For someone to sit with us in the black pool of sadness. Not to be fixed, patched up, or cheered up. Just to be seen and heard\u2014a witness, not a problem solver.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/substackcdn.com\/image\/fetch\/$s_!81FG!,w_424,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep\/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fea10de3d-925f-46da-b5e2-4237dd904ae7_3186x2390.jpeg)
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