mindfulnessandmedotorg

We expect our grief to be something special. In fact, our grief is as old as our self-image. It has been there all our lives, but it is only with the impact of unmistakable loss that we acknowledge it for the very first time. Perhaps if we recognized our ordinary grief sooner, we wouldn’t be so overwhelmed by all that we have denied for so long. Opening to the little grief, the little losses, the little deaths, we make room for the greater griefs, the greater losses, the greater death. By making room in our heart for the lesser holdings, we cultivate the strength and presence for the greater.
–Stephen Levine 

I have a friend who has been confronted with much loss over the past decade, but she has always been the strong one in her family, the pillar, the rock everyone else leans on. So, she stuffs her emotions and puts on a happy face for her children and sisters. But as the losses continue, that happy face has faded fast and she is often angry, lashing out and blaming others for what is beyond her control. Recently, a 5-year love affair with her best friend and business partner blew up and finally she shed some tears, but only a few. One day, while we were sharing a glass of wine, I cried for her, in front of her, as I can no longer bear to see her mental health collapsing, her bitterness and anger eating away at her health and her very life. I surprised myself as I am not typically ‘so emotional’, but with my tears I realized how much I loved her and how much I feared losing her, my friend who was once so vital and optimistic, so warm and passionate. She cannot let go of her role as the rock; she worries that opening to her grief will be like opening the floodgates and she will feel too weak, too vulnerable. She cannot see that she is already growing weaker, cutting herself off from her feelings and building walls around herself, a fortress that any day will come tumbling down upon her.