Alexa, Cure My Grief.

It’s no surprise to many of you that I go to therapy. I’ve been very open about it – it’s not something I am “ashamed’ of, but rather something I am thankful for. I can’t understand why there’s such a stigma around it… people always get so embarrassed just talking about it. But honestly, it has changed me and the way I take on this crazy, effed up world. After each session I am always tasked with a homework assignment. It usually involves writing so, no matter how difficult the subject is to think about or how hard it is to face the memories and bring them to paper, it’s typically something that I enjoy.

My last assignment was to write a letter to all the people in my life - my friends, my coworkers and my family. A letter explaining what I need from them. A letter that attempts to explain how my shattered heart may never fully heal and that this “new” and less than improved Maggie is one they need to learn to accept. I was tasked to write a letter to the world that attempts to explain how to be decent and kind human being to those who are grieving, to those who feel less than whole.

I decided to share it with you all.

With that said, if this blog post offends any of you… my therapist made me do it. (P.S. she also told me to say that.)

But first, I wanted to start with a short story that lays the groundwork for every emotion I felt when writing this. I am sure many of you might recognize it.

It occurred to Pooh and Piglet that they hadn't heard from Eeyore for several days, so they put on their hats and coats and trotted across the Hundred Acre Wood to Eeyore's stick house. Inside the house was Eeyore.

"Hello Eeyore," said Pooh.

"Hello Pooh. Hello Piglet " said Eeyore, in a glum sounding voice.

"We just thought we'd check in on you," said Piglet, "because we hadn't heard from you, and so we wanted to know if you were okay."

Eeyore was silent for a moment. "Am I okay?" he asked, eventually. "Well, I don't know, to be honest. Are any of us really okay? That's what I ask myself. All I can tell you, Pooh and Piglet, is that right now I feel really rather sad, and alone, and not much fun to be around at all. Which is why I haven't bothered you. Because you wouldn't want to waste your time hanging out with someone who is sad, and alone, and not much fun to be around at all, would you now."

Pooh looked and Piglet, and Piglet looked at Pooh, and they both sat down, one on either side of Eeyore in his stick house.

Eeyore looked at them in surprise. "What are you doing?"

"We're sitting here with you," said Pooh, "because we are your friends. And true friends don't care if someone is feeling sad, or alone, or not much fun to be around at all. True friends are there for you anyway. And so here we are."

“Oh," said Eeyore. "Oh." And the three of them sat there in silence, and while Pooh and Piglet said nothing at all; somehow, almost imperceptibly, Eeyore started to feel a very tiny little bit better.

Because Pooh and Piglet were there. No more; no less.

 I am an Eeyore. I feel sad, and alone, and not much fun to be around. And like so many people who are grieving, I feel like I am a bother. A nuisance to friends and family who are so “#blessed” and who are “#livingtheirbestlife.” Because we are the people who are barely surviving… the ones who keep on living even though we don’t know how to anymore.

We are the ones who get up every day and try to get on with life, even though all we feel is complete and utter exhaustion.

We are the ones who feel like giving up, but don’t.

But most importantly, we are the ones who need you the most. We need the Poohs and Piglets who won’t judge us, who won’t shame us or try to fix us. In the times when we have most needed love and support – we have never felt more alone, more misunderstood, judged or dismissed. And the thing is – it’s not that the people in our lives are mean or cruel, it’s that they just don’t know how to deal with us. They don’t know how to help.

If someone in your life is grieving and you feel like all you can do is stand by helpless in the face of their pain, here are some ways you can help them, the ones you love. The ones who have become distant strangers – empty shells of the friends or family you once knew.

Show Up.

The hardest part of losing someone you love is feeling like no one wants to talk about them anymore.

In fact, “most people simply stop saying how misunderstood they feel in their grief because it seems no one wants to hear it. We stop saying ‘this hurts’ because no one listens.”*

The worst thing you can do to someone who has suffered a loss is try to talk them out of their grief – to try and solve their pain. It’s hurtful and demeaning and most certainly will not get you anywhere.

The best thing you can do is let them tell you how the feel. Even if it’s the same, sad words you have heard 1,000 times. Even if you have run out of things to say. Just be there – just listen. We keep telling the same stories because we are looking for a new ending – some way out of this pain. It doesn’t make sense to you, but it’s necessary for us.

I want to talk about my mom every single day. I just want to tell everyone who will listen how much I miss her, and that I wasn’t ready for that last goodbye. That I still can’t “un-see” her last night with us, that final day, or her last few hours on this earth. I want to tell you how I thought I had more time. That the pain I feel really is as bad as you think. And that you’re right… you CAN’T imagine what I am going through.

But then there are the times when the words just don’t come. When the grief is too big, the emotions too deep, that words just can’t do it justice. It’s in those times, when the “I’m fines” and “it’s ok” are said just to make you feel better, because nothing I do or say will make you understand.

It’s a kind of pain that no one wants to understand, that no one wants to hear about. But we need you to listen. We need you to show up – even if it’s just to sit with us and listen and say nothing. Stop making excuses. Take the time, put in the effort. Just SHOW UP. Because that’s what friends do.

Say Their Name.

Just because someone dies, doesn’t mean that they stop existing. Or that we have to just ignore the fact that they were once living, breathing, beautiful people.

Just because they aren’t physically here, doesn’t mean we should to stop talking about them. Because those of us who are left grieving? We will keep talking about them. We will keep talking about them because we will never be able to move on from this heartache, we will never forget this soul-crushing pain. And there won’t be a single day that we won’t think about the ones we lost.

Say their name. Keep talking about the ones we’ve lost, because no amount of time will ever change who they were or the empty hole they left behind.

I miss hearing mom’s name. I miss it so much in fact that this weekend when I was at Starbucks, I told the barista my name was Terri just so I could hear a complete stranger call out to her. Weird? Probably. But I keep looking for ways to keep her memory alive…always present, always top if mind. Not sure if that’s a “healthy” way to grieve but for me, it works. Please, keep talking about her. I don’t ever want her to be forgotten.

Don’t Fake It.

If you don’t know what to say, then don’t say anything. Being there is enough, but showing up and expecting us to “smile and get over it” is insulting and dismissive. Don’t tell me she’s in a better place. Don’t tell me that everything happens for a reason or I should be thankful for the 31 great years we had together. It’s better to tell me that you have no idea what to say but that you are here, then to say something you don’t mean.

You might not understand it. The pain, the grief, the all-consuming loneliness. But you can be there. “There” doesn’t always require physical presence… it could be a card or a simple text just to us know that you haven’t forgotten.

But please, please, please… whatever you do, do NOT ask a grieving person “How are you.”

This question just puts us grievers between a rock and a hard place, because here is the truth. We want to sound upbeat for you – our friends, our coworkers, our family members who have taken a moment out of your busy day to check in. To be there. We want to sound appreciative that you care (or are at least really good at pretending). But I think I can speak for every single person who has suffered through a tragic, out-of-order loss when I say… WE’RE FUCKING TERRIBLE.

There. I said it.

You see our pain as a problem that needs solving. We feel our pain as something that needs to be endured.

Stop Comparing.

Fixing grief with grief? Just… don’t.

No grief is the same.

Sharing your versions of loss do not make us feel better. Your intentions are good, trying to lessen our pain by reminding us that we are not alone in it. But there is a right time to discuss shared stories of grief, and this is not one of them.

All grief is real, but all grief most certainly is not the same. Ask me about her. Let me tell you about those seven months of hell we lived through. About that one, terrible day in February. Let me tell you about all the things that made her so amazing. About the pain my family has gone through every single day since she left.

I need you now more than ever. Just be there.

“Grief is as individual as love. That someone has experienced loss – even one similar to yours – does not mean they understand you.”*

Just remember that.

Love Fiercely.

Because this all ends.

And sometimes, it ends way too soon. Mom is proof of that.

Treasure the amazing people you have in your life. Don’t take your friends or family for granted.

Take the trip, eat the chocolate, have the extra glass of wine. Cry when you need to, and laugh until you snort, and then when it happens…laugh harder. Just live and love and do your best to make them proud. And most importantly, never settle in your pain, even when you feel like life can’t get any worse.

“Grief is not a sign that you’re unwell or unevolved. It’s a sign that love has been a part of your life, and that you want love to continue, even there. You are here now, and here sucks.”

Nothing can make this right.
Nothing can fix it.

But we can live a life they would be proud of.
But more importantly, we can live a life we can be proud of.  

Just love. Because in the end, it’s all we have.

*Quote from “It’s Ok That You’re Not Ok” by Megan Devine