Grief

It's a strange thing, isn't it? Grief. Sometimes it hits you like a tidal wave, and other times, it's this quiet, persistent hum beneath the surface, almost unnoticed until it starts affecting everything. That's often what we talk about when we mention 'inhibited grief' – it's like your heart knows the loss, but your mind or even your body struggles to give it a voice. I remember feeling so much of this after my own loss. It wasn't always tears; sometimes it was just a profound sense of being utterly directionless. Like the poem says, 'To be mother-less is like riding a bike with no brakes and learning how to put your feet down at the right moment for safety.' You're moving, but you don't feel in control, constantly bracing for impact. It's like being on a road trip across the country with a blank map, trying to create the way with all the right directions when you have no idea where you're even supposed to be going. You might find yourself getting easily irritated, exhausted, or just feeling numb. Maybe you withdraw from friends or activities you once loved. Sometimes, it manifests physically – headaches, stomach issues, constant fatigue. These aren't always recognized as 'grief symptoms' because they're not the dramatic, outward expressions we often expect. Instead, it's your body and mind screaming for attention, for the grief to be acknowledged and processed. It's the silent burden you carry. Why do we inhibit our grief? Sometimes it's because we feel we need to be strong for others, or society tells us to 'move on.' We might fear that if we truly open the floodgates, we'll never recover. But keeping it bottled up doesn't make it disappear; it just makes it fester, preventing that crucial healing. It's like planting a seed inside of yourself and being expected to learn how to water it properly for it to grow. If you don't know what it needs, or you're too afraid to give it water, how can it ever blossom? Learning to recognize these subtle signs is the first step. For me, it was realizing that my constant fatigue wasn't just stress – it was my unacknowledged sorrow. Giving yourself permission to feel, even if it's just a little bit each day, can make a huge difference. Journaling, talking to a trusted friend, or finding art and poetry that resonates, like 'The Rise of a Woman,' can be incredibly powerful. These outlets help you start to learn how to water it properly for it to grow, slowly but surely creating the way forward. It’s about gently finding ways to express what’s been held inside, making space for your healing journey.