Nothing thicker than a knife’s blade separates happiness from melancholy — Virginia Woolf

In the early stages of my career, conversations with peers on the “healing journey” made the concept seem elusive. The idea of embarking on a journey to heal sounded great, but somewhat nebulous. I often wondered, what does that even mean? We desire this thing, but on a practical level, do we understand how it happens? On today’s blog, I want to explore grief’s role in healing.

Understanding grieving in the context of healing

I read somewhere recently that grief brings spiritual clarity*. I couldn’t agree more. Grief is a powerful and stern teacher, guiding us to confront and address the aspects of ourselves that need healing. This notion isn’t new as there are many philosophical and spiritual perspectives that see suffering as an opportunity for growth and enlightenment. In many ways, the process of grieving can be seen as a journey towards deepening self-awareness. Grief grabs a hold of our hand and leads us to what hurts. It unravels our wounds, points to the tender parts, and it asks us to carefully tend to them. By tending and addressing our pain, we begin to heal.

Grief is complex and dual in nature. Grief can feel expansive and it can also feel constricting. It’s a paradoxical experience where one might feel overwhelming sadness and a profound sense of liberation. It provides a space to feel the depth of our feelings and experiences. When we find ourselves in this space, we can learn to stretch our body and spirit in it, and eventually it may deliver a soft space to land. It becomes a catalyst for personal growth, resilience, and a deeper connection to our humanity.

*I personally define spirituality as the vehicle that connects us to self, others, and our existence and experience on Earth.

Grief as a mirror

Grief serves as a revealing mirror, highlighting the ways we’ve used distractions (i.e. relationships, substances, social media, entertainment, etc.) to avoid confronting our true feelings and thoughts. Some examples of practices that can help us grieve (and heal) include: intentional solitude, journaling, crying, going to therapy, and sharing our feelings and experiences with trusted loved ones. Intentionally disengaging from distractions unveils valuable insights and it highlights the transformative power of facing discomfort. By embracing the full spectrum of our feelings and thoughts, we open the door to learning how to feel, understanding our story, learning to be comfortable in solitude, taking accountability, being more present in our relationships, and highlighting interpersonal skills that need growth.

A part of healing requires moving through pain. I wish it weren’t so, but it’s an inevitable part of our human experience. Before we find joy again, it’s going to hurt like hell. Healing is a multifaceted and spiritual experience that involves moments of joy and confronting darkness; a journey that is sometimes tangible and other times transcendental. However, beyond grief, one might discover compassion, genuine connections, kindness, and wisdom. There is potential for profound positive transformational healing that can emerge from the challenging process of allowing ourselves to grieve what hurts.

Embracing grief

Regardless of the origin of grief — whether it’s rooted in the death of self, the past, a review of a painful childhood upbringing, the death of a loved one, the end of a relationship, the closing of a life chapter, or resigning from a job — it calls for a metaphorical death and surrender, an immersion into darkness and quietude. This symbolic death entails fully experiencing pain, shedding many tears, letting go of our attachment to people and concepts, and ultimately learning to love more deeply. I like to believe that if it leads us to expanding our sense and expression of love, then the suffering is well worth it. While it’s a naturally somber journey, it’s essential to bear in mind that within the course of something coming to an end, something new is simultaneously born and unearthed.

Grief is a fundamental aspect of our existence. Experiencing various forms of loss is inevitable. There is a cyclical nature to grief, which means we may re-encounter old sorrows. Old sorrows bring up new sorrows. New sorrows bring up old sorrows. Making the darkness conscious, investigating the deepest realms of our minds, and allowing ourselves to mourn is part of how we heal and express our humanity and dignity. Each time we find ourselves in that dark room, the hope is we enter it with more awareness, kindness, and wisdom. As expressed by Edna St. Vincent Millay, “Reveal yourself to yourself. Do not take refuge in a miracle. To keep your dignity, you will first have to re-create it. Internalize it, vitalize it, tremble before it, sleep with it. You do not need to share it. You merely need to feel it severely.”

In adulthood, we have creative autonomy over our healing process and the remainder of our lives. We possess the freedom to shape it, to participate in relationships that bring us joy, to define the depth of our connections, and choose how we’d like to spend our time here on Earth.

So, what will you do with all that time? 

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The Thing Is

By Ellen Bass

to love life, to love it even

when you have no stomach for it

and everything you’ve held dear

crumbles like burnt paper in your hands, 

your throat filled with the silt of it.

When grief sits with you, its tropical heat

thickening the air, heavy as water

more fit for gills than lungs;

when grief weighs you down like your own flesh

only more of it, an obesity of grief,

you think, How can a body withstand this?

Then you hold life like a face

between your palms, a plain face, 

no charming smile, no violet eyes,

and you say, yes, I will take you

I will love you, again.