Not too long ago, a friend said to me, “You are not just your trauma and your grief. You are so much more. You are an adventurer. Write about your adventures and the fears you experience during them.”
Hmmm…that’s true. I’m not just my trauma and grief.
How the part of me that is grieving heard it—“No one wants to read about your sadness all the time. You’re too much. Write about the parts of you that people like and want to be around.”
And so I did what seemed best. I stopped writing about my grief. I didn’t want to just write about my sadness and depress anyone who read it. I didn’t want to be a downer and share the sadness I suppressed for years.
I wanted to share more of the other parts of me I like. Who I know other people like. The funny one, the joyful one, the optimistic one.
The wise one.
Except…when I sat down to give them a voice—nothing. The other parts didn’t have anything to say. Why? Because it’s not their season. Not as the leading role at least.
The season I’m currently living through is grief. And with that, sadness is the star of the show.
She is loud, and also achy. And lonely. And feels like she should slither away so the other parts people like to be around can play a more prominent role. She fears she doesn’t uplift or bring anything of value to the table and is afraid of being rejected. Except they don’t. They’ve been here the whole time. They know sadness has been waiting her turn to speak for a very, very long time.
It’s not that she has been silent, it’s that her full expression has been tempered. Or at least, it used to be. She knows how to show up for others extremely well. When they feel what she feels, she normalizes it for them. She shows them how to take care of themselves and what helps to heal an achy, lonely heart.
She prides herself in welcoming their tears. She knows what’s it like when they are swallowed and she cheers them on when they have the courage to let them flow. She honors their silence. She can sense their presence even if they say nothing at all. She instinctually sidles up next to them simply so they can feel a little less alone. She knows her role well, and that’s why the other parts, the ones that are more readily chosen, take a step back during this season so she, too, is cared for the way she deserves.
Also, we need her. She offers an understanding that soothes us.
The grief of children becoming adults is challenging. The grief of packing up a home that took care of my little family is hard. Acknowledging the ongoing stress of single motherhood and all it’s sacrifices has been much to unravel.
At the same time, I am feeling the grief of losing my own mother long ago. And the years I could not feel the void because I feared it would swallow me whole. The sorting through of memories, both painful and joyful takes a lot of energy. To relive the moments means to let all the emotions that didn’t get their full expression the first time show up for a more prominent round two.
In those moments, sadness is there. She validates the pain. She hugs the oher parts of me who don’t want to feel burdened. She reminds them they did their best and they did it all out of love. She encourages them to express their regrets so they don’t hold on to what is no longer needed. Then she cries to help them release it.
The ways sadness keeps us connected to love are infinite.
Yet, she is demonized. Silenced. Rejected, shamed or medicated to stay quiet. When all she really needs is a voice that’s respected too. Choosing ourselves means choosing ALL of our selves. Even the parts that may not be held in high regard. Especially the parts that may not be held in high regard.
And so, I will keep sharing her voice. I will let the season of sadness and grief be just as important and beautiful as the seasons of joy, peace and prosperity.
Because together, they make us whole. Not just the seasons we prefer.
How do you respond to sadness when it shows up in your life?
Lynn Reilly is a licensed professional counselor, master energy therapist, and author of the self-help book, 30 Days to Me and the children’s book, The Secret to Beating the Dragon. She is also a contributing author telling her story of hope and transformation in the book, Crappy to Happy.
Lynn is a lifelong counselor with an expertise in understanding human behavior and sharing this knowledge with others. Her passion is to inspire people of all ages how to support themselves while living a serendipitous life…a life filled with unexpected joy and passion…a life meant to be.
