“She was a genius of sadness, immersing herself in it, separating its numerous strands, appreciating its subtle nuances. She was a prism through which sadness could be divided into its infinite spectrum.”
The months that followed my miscarriage were challenging, enlightening, painful and descriptives upon descriptives. I am no stranger to grief, but this was profoundly different, even with having a pretty in depth understanding of soul purpose and journeys, I was left paralyzed some days. Because grief is a roller coaster and very very sneaky.
Throughout my grief excursion, I wrote. Because that is what I do, so I will share that with you here. It doesn’t matter the type of grieving you are going through, I know mine had to do with so much more than one issue. Losing friends, losing myself, it was all grief.
Forgiveness. Forgiveness of self. Forgiveness in miscarriage. Loving yourself through grief.
Women tend to carry an amount of shame and guilt and I even felt a sense of greed. “I already have two kids, it was selfish of me to want more.”
And FUCK ALL OF THAT.
Because it’s lies.
It’s important to go through the process: the anger, the sadness, to really feel it. It’s also important to know that it’s safe to release it, too. Realize those emotions don’t serve us well as protection, they weigh us down. It’s been a daily battle for me. The only emotion that serves us and our babies memories is love.
Its okay to forgive yourself. Forgive your body. Release.
Can we be okay with feeling sad? Can we be okay with doing and feeling things we are told are destructive and unacceptable? Well, turns out, we don’t need permission. I’m going to feel this at my comfort level and do what I want to get through this unbearable feeling. But I’m going to fucking feel it.
It’s getting calmer now, the wind.
Pull it pushes back again.
Scream into and carries away.
No one wanted to hear it anyway.
Swirling wisps of energy, moving feelings all around me. Not good or bad just is. Is. Is.
Pull it pushes back again.
My eyes are glossed over, I’m just trying to exist.
Grief is a toddler’s scribbles, going here and everywhere, off the paper and onto the table. Sometimes on the walls, spreading down the halls. You find some in a drawer sometimes or on your favorite shoes.
Magic eraser, scrub, scrub, scrub.
Where did I put that pen…shit. there it is. Inked all on the brand new couch.
Witnessing lovely things with despondent eyes. I take note of it’s beauty but I cannot bring myself to celebrate. Maybe tomorrow will feel better in my bones. But today grief has burrowed and settled into the marrow. Ultimate entanglement.
“Lift me from this floor…
If I can’t walk, I’ll crawl to love” -Saul Williams
The spiritual journey is a series of grieving. Grieving is growing, nothing shows you strength like grief. It’s mourning the loss of old habits, of comfort zones and of the people that aren’t ready to go/grow with you. Honor them and their role in your journey, send love, mourn and move on.
We’ve been taught to resist the things that don’t feel good instead of feel them. We build walls, we get stuck, we give our power to our pain, to our anger. But Grieve. Grieve well, grieve messy, feel your feelings, be gentle with yourself, talk about it, seek help, recluse, be present. It’s all okay.