Morning Reader,

If you're in a bleary eyed state as you open this this morning, maybe go and make yourself a cuppa first. Go and breathe in a bit of fresh air and listen to the bird song before you read beyond 'the fold'.

Why?

Well, this week, our little emotional envoy is grief.

Just before we start, little recap on what is going on here for those who have joined recently. Each week I send out this missive which is based around Brené Brown's Atlas of the Heart book and the emotions that she writes about in that book.

I also send out emails during the week which have a stronger addiction recovery flavour to them and they are based around my 'Feeling Freedom' programme, an online community for those dealing with a loved one's addiction. Places are limited for that, so if you would like to know more, just book in a call with me here.

Now, back to grief.

Yay.

Who would actually choose to feel grief?

Grief signals loss and undoable-ness quite often. And that sucks.

Do you know what's coming now with my little psychology head on?

Do ya? Do ya?

Am I going make this missive about the five stages of grief? You know, the old model of grief by Elizabeth Kübler Ross with the characteristics of denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance that has been so well documented?

No, my friend, no I am not, because I don't know about you, but grief does not feel like a linear process with certain stages that we may dip into and then out of. Also, I am contrary like that.

No, grief is much more messy and when I think of grief I think of tidal waves of feelings and lingering loss that cannot be shaken off, but that has to be moulded into our lives as we try to get to grips with the presence of absence.

And I want to give you something that feels more hopeful than this poem:

How demoralising.

Yet that's the truth of the matter isn't it?

And my grief will be entirely different to yours; different circumstances, different regrets.

In fact,

David Kessler, an expert on grief says:

I wrote the above poem about the breakdown of a significant relationship in my life which lead to our estrangement. I experienced a deep, profound grief that was so upsetting, because the grief of estrangement is not spoken about or validated in society.

I was experiencing what is known as 'ambiguous' grief.

When we think about grief we often think about a definitive loss - a death.

Nothing ambiguous about that.

Yet sometimes the loss can be unclear, uncertain.

Ambiguous grief is a term that was coined by Pauline Boss. It can be experienced when there is either a physical absence but a psychological presence (such as a missing person, estrangement or divorce) or a physical presence but a psychological absence (such as loving someone lost to the throes of addiction or suffering from Alzheimer’s disease).

Part of the troublesome impact of ambiguous loss is the way in which it is handled in society compared to traditional grief... actually, the lack of ways in which we culturally and socially 'witness' this type of grief.

Ritual

When someone has died in ‘traditional’ circumstances there is the possibility of a ritual to help process the loss, bringing in a sense of control through the preparations and a sense of connection as such rituals are often done in groups. The structure provided by funerals, memorials or wakes gives a sense of order, helps to regulate emotions and gives a sense of purpose in an otherwise anchor-less time.

When we experience ambiguous loss this sense of ritual is absent. What is more disheartening, is that this lack can increase the sense of fragmentation, shame and confusion.

Validation

Traditional loss is often legitimised by society. There is a collective consciousness around death and grieving. Ambiguous loss results in changes to families, relationships, self identity just as traditional loss does, however, there is a lack of a collective narrative about how this loss is experienced and the impact that it can have.
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When I wrote this poem on grief it was to process the shame I felt about the loss of this significant relationship. The reasons for that loss are complicated and when I have tried to share about it with people I have felt misunderstood.

It’s a loss that only seems to be able to be validated privately, amongst a few select friends who understand the circumstances and my truth, but not a loss that is validated by society as a whole.

The poem was a 'coded' way of seeking that societal validation of my grief, without 'giving my game away', so that I could process my feelings around it and gain some sense of closure.

Poetry is cool like that.

These ways in which we process and seek solace in our grief may be blocked when this grief is ambiguous. The sense of loss may feel shameful, such as that experienced by addiction, or minimised, such as divorce. This type of loss is less likely to be tolerated by companions, friends and even family members. There may be a level of privacy to it that cannot be shared easily without the fear of judgment or fixing.

It can mean that people get ‘frozen’ in their grief.

The impact of ambiguous loss is shame and confusion. So I'd like to offer a way of looking at it that really helped me, with the hope that it could help you too. This idea was developed by Dr. Richard Wilson and is known as The Whirlpool of Grief.

Grief is a portal into a new landscape that we don't venture into voluntarily. The tumble, the not knowing up from down is to be expected, but if we allow space for the grief we are afforded a different view with time; one of gratitude, wisdom and resilience.

For grief, is a part of life.

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Has this email struck a nerve? If so, let me know, I have a whole workshop based around grief which I'm happy to facilitate if there is enough interest. There is a sacred tenderness to sitting with our grief.

This workshop is also featured as part of the work that I will be doing together with those who join my Feeling Freedom Programme. You can see more about the plans for that programme here.

Sending you much loving kindness.

That's it for now,

'Til next time,

Jacky

113 Cherry St #92768, Seattle, WA 98104-2205
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