I use to say that grief felt like a rollercoaster
And people say they experience me as being strong on my grief journey.
What I am realizing is my grief is more like the ocean waves and the only way to survive my grief is to learn how to navigate the waves. Instead of bracing myself and getting knocked to the shore, having to start all over again, I soften. I dive deep under the waves as they come crashing in, going under the turbulent and unpredictable water. Diving deep beneath the surface to make my way through the current wave. Seeing what is below the raging waters. Feeling into the depths of my heart, not with strength, but with respect to the fact that the waves will drag me under if I try to fight them. I know that I cannot always do this alone, sometimes I need to hold onto a hand, to help me come back up for air. I don’t know if I will ever swim out to calm seas, but I know in my heart that I will not get there by strength, or brute force. Only by honoring the strength of each wave, is it possible for me to navigate these stormy emotions of grief.
Moments when the waves are calm, I allow myself to recharge on the gentle and rolling waters. Looking up to the sky for guidance, or closing my eyes and allowing myself to rest during this blessed pause, looking out to the horizon, being mindful that big waves, sometimes even tsunami’s are the natural rhythm of the ocean. I cannot change the ocean, I can only change how I swim in the ocean. Just as I cannot change my grief, I can only learn and grow and adapt as I swim in the ocean of my grief.
No, I am not strong in my grief. I am soft, vulnerable, fluid, mindful and respect my grief.
Donna M. Gray
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