The Loneliest I’ve ever been
Grief is one of the loneliest walks on earth. Every story and experience is so different. Every relationship unmatched. Every human so unique. And yet, everyone experiences this pain someway, somehow.
For years, while my mom went through cancer treatment, I watched others around me living their lives seemingly innocently and freely while I felt hopeless, heavy and alone, often thinking,
“Nobody gets it. No one knows what this feels like – to feel the weight of the unknown deep in my gut. To feel like I can’t make plans for my life or fully commit myself to the things I desire to experience because it could all take a turn at any moment, and then what will become of my life?! Of me?!”.
Even though I was doing a lot, I felt like I couldn’t give my full attention where I truly wanted because at any moment a matter of life and death could require me to drop everything. I searched for ways to anchor myself into a bright, exciting feeling future that I sooo badly wanted to believe could be possible.
But with the life and well-being of one of the most important people in my life on the line, trying to create a shiny vision for the future felt frivolous and fake.
I was a master at hiding my worry, anxiety, and fear, a master of appearing to ‘have my ish together’, but on the inside I remember so many days feeling dull, half alive, my mind swirling and my body lethargic. As I denied my pain, grief and the impending doom of potential loss that often felt present, I tried to put my focus elsewhere and “just be happy, live in the moment”. But the suppressed emotions found their own way out - oozing through my skin as stress rashes on my eyelids and neck, appearing as sore throats and mystery illnesses, and sometimes even causing nausea that kept me from eating for a few days.
I pumped myself with caffeine hoping to feel something again and to find the energy to power through. I found a million things to distract myself with, from fitness classes to my business to going to Barnes and Nobel to buy more personal development books I’d never finish. Anything that would save me from what I was feeling inside.
I remember so many days trying to ‘just be normal’, trying to take the steps it seemed I should be taking, but I when I allowed myself to get still and just be, tears welled in my eyes and it all felt shallow and hallow. What I really felt was despair. Hopelessness. Lost. Exhausted. Alone.
I really wanted to do was lie on the floor or in my bed for hours, hoping the day would pass and tomorrow would feel different.
When my mom died, the loneliness hit another level. To know that no one else in the world knew my exact pain meant that I wouldn’t likely hear the perfect words I yearned to hear from anyone else, which was devastating to realize.
No one else would be able to console me fully.
No one else would know what I needed and how to perfectly take care of me.
I would have to learn how to meet myself in this loneliness and console myself.
That alone made me so angry.
In every moment of my early grief journey, I craved to be understood. Even though I was terrified to let anyone see what a mess I was inside, all I wanted was to be fully known in the pain of everything I had lost (even my before my mom died) as it felt like it was swallowing me whole.
I yearned to feel someone’s hand reach through the darkness to grab mine, offering me something to hold on to, to know where ‘up’ was so I could find my feet under me again amid the whirlwind of tears, anger, and inability to imagine how I would ever be ok again.
Gratefully, those hands lovingly appeared when I got vulnerable enough to share how I really felt and asked for help. No one tried to save me because they knew the importance of what I was living. But they sat with me and guided me in finding my center again, in feeling and releasing the buildup of emotions I was so masterful at holding in, often unknowingly. And most importantly, they saw me and loved me in my brokenness, in my cracked-openness.
They listened not only through the tears and confusion, they listened to the pain, growth and guidance that were alive deep within me. They witnessed me in heartache without rushing me or diminishing my current experience, while also holding a higher vision for my life and who I would still become, despite it all.
Some of these hands were of dear friends. Others of family members. Others of therapists, coaches and mentors.
As each reached a hand out to meet me, I stepped forward a little more to meet myself. And little by little the gaping whole of loneliness felt less suffocating.
Instead of walking up each morning feeling paralyzed by the monumental task of walking through another day knowing I was ultimately alone in my experience, I began to feel stable enough to make a home within myself, where my wellbeing didn’t depend on if others got it, understood, or met me. I was able to sit up on my bed each morning, put a hand to my heart and say,
“I know this is soo scary and lonely. I know you crave to hear someone tell you you will be ok, that you will LIVE fully again, that life will be good again. I know it would be so much easier to stay in bed, and I also know you are resilient and stronger than you realize. I know you haven’t actually died with your mom, even though it feels like you did. And I know there is something available here for you today because you are still alive. You don’t need to go fast, you can go at your own pace. Just one step, one moment, at a time.”
I learned how to listen to myself - to my grief and my soul. I learned how to speak those perfect words to the parts of me that needed consoling. I began to sense, feel, and welcome in the woman I would become through this experience even though I had no idea what she would be like, and I regained enough strength and hope to take little steps toward being her.
Slowly, I had the energy to begin to put my new website together and to dream about my business again, to work with new clients, to travel and to begin family therapy with my dad and sister.
I still needed others of course, I still needed loved ones to open and meet me as I had opened and met myself. Because I was no longer needing the impossible - for them to say or do the perfect thing - I was able to receive the love and company that they could offer. I began to see the imperfect beauty of each person in my life with more awe and gratitude, accepting them as they were and laughing and crying with them about life more freely.
I was met with sweet softness and companionship from my husband, holding me and listening as I vulnerably shared my fears and longings. I received little gifts in the mail and unexpected phone calls and texts from friends that brought me to tears and evoked big belly laughs.
Years have since passed, but through it all, a devotion brewed in my heart: to become the one that can see through the dark and offer a loving hand when nothing else can be seen or determined, when the unknown feels as lonely, stifling and terrifying as a pitch black endless maze.
To become the one whose very presence offers you safety and space to take a breath, open, feel, and listen to your inner needs and knowings.
To become the one that lovingly witnesses you in your pain, through the brokenness of your heart, knowing that with time, your pain will not define you like it does now, and you are becoming someone greater than you could ever imagine as you embrace your path.
Today, I am humbled and honored to embody this devotion everyday, to be able to offer my hand to you in the loneliest moments you could ever walk, as a lantern of hope, warmth, healing, and support when you fear this will be how life feels forever.
I offer my hand and guidance as you find your way out of the dark so you have the energy and support to:
> Travel to see your friends and family without feeling exhausted, overwhelmed, or afraid of how they will see or respond to who you are now;
> Bravely share that piece of writing you’ve been wanting to put on Substack and begin to build connection and community there;
> Speak up and share your heart with loved ones from a grounded energy of self-love and respect;
> Get on the apps again or walk up to that cute human making eyes at you at the park and ask for their number;
> Try to get pregnant [again];
> Leave your job, start your own company, and land your first clients;
> Go back to school and begin your dream career…
What's on your heart? What have you needed to push to the sidelines due to grief and loss that you crave to have the energy and support in your life to reclaim?
I offer you my hand.
Are you ready to take it?
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