The Body Holds Emotion

Helping Grieving Friends, Family, or Clients:

Don't sensationalize the situation by asking gruesome details, but listen if/what they need to discuss.

Don't be afraid of saying "death" and discussing the process of dying, but be sensitive that some people prefer to say "passed away" or "transitioned".

Don't only focus on the good, don't try to put a positive spin on it--It's a shitty time so acknowledge how bad it is. It's okay to be sad, to cry, to be angry.

Don't try to avoid discussing it completely; Listen to how they respond/react and adjust accordingly. Maybe they want to talk things out, maybe they don't.

Don't wait to give support--reach out, just a text "Thinking of you" is enough, grieving and being sad feels lonely so even just a small, simple text feels reassuring that someone is there without feeling pressured to respond.

Experiencing Grief:

It feels crazy going through intense times while simultaneously trying to maintain composure, continue with chores, go to work, keep up relationships, and most importantly be mindful of our own health, trying to take care of ourselves so we can continue on. That old adage of trying to keep our heads above water--it feels so true when you're in the midst of trauma, tragedy, and change. In the middle of it all it feels like if anything more were to be added, we would simply not be able to stay afloat any longer. But what is amazing is that we do stay afloat. We keep treading water, and eventually, we reach the shore. Eventually, in time.

It does happen, though it doesn't seem like it when we're swimming aimlessly simply trying to keep on keeping on. Grief is intense and fickle. One minute I think I'm fine, and the next I'm crying while trying to rinse out my cup in the sink. When we're grieving and we see other people living their lives, everything else seems so inconsequential. It almost feels ridiculous and petty to try to do "normal" things. But in doing things, anything really, we can help begin the process of moving through the web of grief and emotion. It takes time. Just like what I tell clients when they're working through an injury, it takes time, and we can't rush time we have to methodically move through the process. In time, eventually, grief softens its edges, just like sea glass getting pushed through the waves. It's still there, but it's softer, quieter, floating without as much effort.

Through my own grief, I'm trying to remember to take care of myself. Remembering to eat, drink water, reach out to friends when in need of support, exercise, and still partake in fulfilling activities is vital for self-care. It's so easy to curl up and not want to do anything. And sometimes, that is exactly what's needed, to just curl up, not do anything, not be productive, to not try at all, to take some time to simply Be without any intent or goal one way or the other. But, I've found the need for a balance between being and trying. I need the space to stare out the window and cuddle my dog and do nothing, and I also need to go take a jog, talk to others, fold my laundry…starting to connect back into life.

I feel it all in my body. Emotions definitely create part of our physical experiences. Where do we hold grief in our bodies? I think it's different for everyone, but I feel it in my gut like fluttering anxiety or like a stone heavy in my chest. My eyes feel like they can't quite focus, and my head gently aches like it is about to get a headache. My neck and shoulders are stiff and achy like they're trying to hold all the weight of the situation, and sometimes I realize I haven't taken a deep breath for a while.

There is a need for different things at different times to move through these emotions, allowing the passage of time. Some days my head is so full I have to write to empty it, and other days I don't want to think for myself so I have to read to absorb other ideas and thoughts. Some days I want to create so I need to draw and feel the page on my hands, and at other times I have to move so I stretch or walk and bike outside. Sometimes I need space and to be alone to think quietly, and other times I need music, deep soulful hugs and to talk. Everything changes, everything is a cycle, so we also have to honor our needs as we change along with it all.

Physical movement helps to literally move the body through grief. The act of moving the body helps to ground and center us, helps to connect us to sensations of the present moment which calms the nervous system and the anxious, grieving mind. Taking time to sit and breathe, focusing on the full lung capacity opening up sideways and backward through the ribs, and feeling the feet and the legs sitting or standing in place. Moving through cat/cows, feeling the undulation of the spine, the contraction of the abdominals, the push into the hands, and shins. Twisting through the spine while laying on the floor, feeling the postural muscles relax, releasing into being held by the floor instead of having to hold us up for a moment. Shoulder circles and head nods to move through all the tension held at the top of the body, where it feels like the weight of every situation sits on top of us. All these actions move the physical tension of the emotional experience through the body to be released, and as the body softens, the mind can more easily follow, similar to the ideas behind practices of Qi Gong, Tai Chi, Yoga, Pilates, and other styles of movement. We can even practice mindful jogging and walking; Whatever movement feels right for that day to ground us into the present moment, and move the body through our experience.

Grief, and other challenging experiences, are what make life worth living because without loss we can't experience the sweet joy of togetherness. As hard as this shit is, it's a time of reflection and centering and connection. It's a process to move through it all. And what is it that we are actually grieving? The lost time that could've been with that person, or the possible events we could've experienced? The loss of what could have possibly been but never truly was? Instead, let's try to reflect on what we have had, what we're grateful we did get to experience, what truly feels important for us at this moment, and what soothes us now.

The cycle of life continues, even as we grieve others find new beginnings.

Peace isn't the absence of chaos, but staying calm in the midst of it. Healing is the capacity to hold pain, not necessarily getting rid of it. So, we just keep swimming forward even when it feels like we'll never reach the shore. By honoring what I need through this time I can begin to find peace and healing alongside the grief, allowing it all to coexist through my own unique experience. And in time, it will once again change. We will reach the shore.