Navigating the Healing Waters of Grief

How safety and peace created space for the emotions I once tucked away.

Since I moved home four months ago, my body, mind and soul (and nervous system) have started to feel more at peace.

More grounded. More rooted.

Safe.

And with this safety (and some recent support from Rosemary Gemmotherapy to help elevate my mental state), I feel like it’s the first time in years where I’m not struggling to stay afloat mentally and emotionally. I don’t feel like I’m having to put all my energy - spiritual, mental, emotional and physical - into keeping my head above water.

This is something I’m immensely grateful for. It’s like my system has done a giant exhale. There’s a calm and quiet.

However, with this safety, there is a newly created space.

Space for the emotions that were pressed down, ignored and set aside for the last several years, to begin rising to the surface to be felt, processed and released.

And it’s something I’ve become aware of in the last few weeks.

So, this isn’t going to be my typical kind of post, the kind where I’ve already processed what I’m sharing and can package it up - lessons and all - in a nice bow.

This is very much something I’m moving through in the “now moment.”

Discovering a little more day after day, as I uncover new layers and let them breathe.

But I want this space here on Substack to be more of a “soul-sister chat” vibe, and if you know me personally, you know my soul-sister chats tend to be more pondering and processing, rather than a final polished presentation 😂

So, come along with me while I “riff” on what’s been rising to the surface in the recent days…something I’d like to finally and lovingly identify as grief.

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What is Grief?

Here’s what I’ve discovered about grief (and remember, these thoughts are still forming and “in process.”)

Grief is such a nuanced emotion, sensation and mental state. It can be the looming “big” emotion underneath a whole lot of other, seemingly unrelated emotions.

It’s an emotion made up of more layers and physical sensations than we can plainly identify.

How can you put words to something that sometimes feels as intangible and undefinable as grasping air?

Imagery can help, though.

So, imagine it like this: Grief is like water.

It takes the shape and size of whatever it’s contained in, and fills up every last nook and cranny.

But it’s difficult to notice sometimes. Mainly because grief can be hidden under other emotions that we normally brush away or are used to handling daily: frustration, anger, annoyance, anxiety, stress, sadness, melancholy, restlessness, and agitation.

It shows up differently in everyone, but here are some potential examples…for instance:

• If you’re feeling constant frustration and agitation…what grief have you not ugly cried about? Like, REALLY let it out.

• If there’s continual stress and anxiety…what grief have you not looked at? What grief have you left untouched because it’s too uncomfortable to approach?

• If you’re dealing with a looming sense of melancholy and restlessness…what grief hasn’t been processed? What grief is sitting there, festering and needing to be released so you can move forward?

Again, these are just thoughts and ideas. We’re riffing here.

But if we’re constantly meeting those kinds of emotions, over and over again, it’s worth it to see if there’s something underneath. A common root to their origins. Something deeper that could be fueling these more “surface-level” emotions.

And, for the sake of this article, let’s say it’s grief.

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Grief can come from the “obvious” things: death, divorce, loss of a pet, loss of a friendship, community or career, deteriorating health, big life transitions (even if they were ultimately positive!)…the list goes on.

There’s no right or wrong way to identify grief.

But it’s an emotion that’s easy to box up and put under your bed. It’s out of sight and out of mind…but it’s not out of your body.

It doesn’t disappear.

It just waits.

Other emotions can tend to be a bit more “cut and dry.” I’m angry about ________. I’m stressed about ___________.

They’re more tangible in some ways. Measurable.

But grief has a quality of immeasurability. It’s not a tangible thing you can weigh, size or measure. And its weight sits differently with all of us.

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Every so often, when I did peer into my grief box, I was ultimately met with “grief comparison.” I dismissed my own experience, telling myself it wasn’t as “bad” as what others had gone through.

My life is safe. I live very comfortably. I have incredible people in my world. I have abundance, safety, comfort, and love the work I do…who am I to feel grief?

I shouldn’t feel grief when this is my life. It’s selfish and dramatic for me to sit and process it. I should just get on with life.

Now, objectively, I know this is all bullshit and mind games.

And, truth be told, if any one of my Flower Essence clients said this to me during a session, I would say, “Ok, stop right there.” lol

So, if I were my own client, I would say something like: “Yes, you can recognize someone else going through massive amounts of grief, but it doesn’t make your grief any less profound or impactful on your own life. It’s no less worthy of being seen, felt and honored.”

No one’s grief is the same. It is not something to compare.

Grief is grief. It comes in different colors, sizes and shapes. And we all feel, hold and process it differently.

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My Experience with Grief:

During my last five and a half years of living abroad, my life was filled with so many beautiful, expansive, joyful and safe moments.

AND, looking back, I think I went into some form of “survival mode” the moment I moved to Germany. Although the life transition was positive, it was A LOT to process - new country, new language, new culture, new relationships, new everything…and I don’t think I realized the immensity of it all at the time.

So I never really looked at it.

However, over the course of the next 5 years, though…

• My father passed away.

• We moved to another country (where I also didn’t speak the language fluently) and said goodbye to a city and community I’d known for the last two years.

• I said goodbye to my sweet 22-year-old cockatiel, Pearl.

• I went through separation and divorce.

• I had intense physical health issues that “came out of nowhere.”

• I moved to a new city where I didn’t know anyone.

• I went through periods of feeling isolated and alone.

• I continued to struggle with (what felt like) never-ending health issues.

• I rehomed my cockatiels, my babies, Buster and Rosie, when I decided to move back home to San Diego.

None of these things are out of the ordinary when it comes to grief. I’m not special in experiencing any of this.

But moving through all of this without really processing it drove me further into survival mode and left me with this lingering struggle to stay mentally and emotionally afloat.

So when my nervous system began to feel safe again here in San Diego and when my work with Rosemary Gemmotherapy began to lift the heavier emotions, I felt like I wasn’t in survival mode anymore. I felt lighter and more at peace.

And the grief that had been held back for so long because I didn’t have the mental and emotional capacity to truly feel it and look at it, came rising to the surface.

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This goes back to the “grief is like water” analogy - it takes the shape of whatever it is contained in…and now that it has finally been given space, it’s flowing through.

The last 5 years, my “container” to hold grief was quite small. Survival mode does that. You push grief away and put it in a box. Because you can’t hold it when you’re putting one foot in front of the other.

And as the years went on, more grief kept being added to the container…but the container never grew.

But it was there. Growing heavier and heavier. My soul could feel it.

The gurgling. The simmering. The discomfort that the weighted box caused.

But I couldn’t look at it yet. My body, mind and soul didn’t feel safe (or ready).

So it began to leak out.

Bypassing my mental and emotional levels because they weren’t able to process the grief living and growing in that small box (hi, survival mode), so it went to the only other layer it could access…the physical.

The final layer.

The “red flag” layer of “Hey, something really needs to be addressed and you haven’t been addressing it.”

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And now, sitting and looking at all of this, I see how my grief didn’t get addressed. I see how it’s showing up in my physical body (not to say it’s the sole reason I’m feeling physical discomfort, but it’s certainly part of the equation).

So I lovingly ask myself…have I truly let myself mourn and process all of this fully? Or have I “sort of” felt it and then moved on because I had to?

I think it’s the latter.

And now that I am blessed with being home, in a safe environment where I feel held, loved and at peace, it’s time to lovingly and fully look at everything that my sweet body, mind and soul have held so patiently for the last 5 years.

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So, where to go from here?

For me, it’s a mixture of a few things:

• Working with a grief counselor or talk therapist

• Journaling and “letting it out” in my own way

• Working with flower essences like Star of Bethlehem, Borage, Sagebrush, Wild Rose, Yerba Santa and Love-Lies-Bleeding

• Getting outside and being around nature

• And just taking really good care* 🥹

*May or may not include eating every pumpkin-flavored thing available to me over the next two months