Blindsided by Grief
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Image Description: A woman with long red hair in black knit long-sleeved shirt holding peach ceramic mug looking out window
“It’s not a brain tumor. It’s grief.”
A friend, who just so happens to be a grief coach, was listening to my story about my recent out-of-the-blue migraines. I shared that, in the thick of it all, I was worrying about having a brain tumor and thinking I was dying. I told her that, as per usual, I spent the month of December mostly resting and reading. My energy level usually goes kaput that month, and I felt it hard this year, compounded by the effects of the still-uncontrolled migraines.
“It’s not a brain tumor. It’s grief.” It felt both true and shocking.
How can grief force one to hibernate? To have physical symptoms? Turns out, it can.
I have always felt “broken” in my grief. If there was a grief textbook, I knew I was not following it. If there was a Grief 101 course, I was failing.
My grief, or at least the one that dominated my life, was anticipatory grief. My older sister, Gina, had severe cerebral palsy. As a result, I came into the world breathing the air of anticipatory grief, knowing deep within my bones that I would outlive her. Learning about illness along with my ABCs.
So grief has always just been there for me. I’ve always read about - and frankly been a little hoping for - that crushing grief that brings people to their knees. Then I would know I was “doing grief right.” Then, perhaps, people would look at me and say, “Yes, she is grieving. We can see the love she has for her sister.”
But hey, if my friend told me that this recent season of my life - this season of migraines and worry about death and the aching sensation that comes when it’s 3:00 PM and I know I need to drag myself into the shower but I really don’t have the energy for it - is a flavor of grief, then I’ll take it. Maybe it’s not textbook; but it’s probably someone in the appendix of The Authoritative Grief Textbook. Or maybe an asterisk.
Or maybe it’s a more common experience than I think.
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If you work in the bereavement or end-of-life profession, it’s very possible you are there because you have your own backstory of grief. Here at Compassionate Coaching, we pour love on and fill the cups of you and your colleagues. Reach out. I would love to hear from you and be of service to you.