Three months into leading while in mourning and grief
Here is my story and some guidance on what I have learnt. I hope it will be helpful to others.
It’s been just over 3 months since I lost my father and I’ve learnt a lot in this time.
I feel the need to share as a continuation to my first article about leading while processing grief.
Loss and grief is a powerful thing. This grief is stronger than anything I’ve ever experienced yet so soft and tender at the same time. There are moments where the anxiety builds up so quickly within my throat that I know I need to release it to let it move through me as quickly as possible. I cannot ignore it. I don’t know how to and I don’t want to. There are other moments where it hits for several days straight and my heart feels empty and lost but it’s a soft cry - like a rapid river of tears that just flows until it reaches the opening and it smoothes itself out.
I had to go back to teaching after 2 weeks. I thought it was going to be helpful but hot damn it was the hardest 3 months of my lifetime. Not at any moment did I pretend that I was “normal” and not in pain. When the moments of grief and sadness hit, I let them. I let each of them run through me but here’s the caveat - it happened so often in front of students, clients, and my community. I didn’t think I’d be so brave and tender to show this side of me so often.
I knew that when it did, I had two choices - pretend that I could power through or just let it be and see how long it took to get to the other side. I opted for the latter.
It took courage to be this vulnerable in front of so many people. But I’m glad I stuck to who I am and how I need to be present for this experience. It showed me how compassionate and supportive everyone around me is. It showed me that I didn’t need to be afraid of being the highly sensitive and emotional leader that I am. I stopped caring about what people may think. I know my truth and I did my very best to communicate it to those around me so they too could understand what I was navigating from a birds eye view.
I also have done brave things as I was ready to feel joy again.
The hardest thing for me was to go to events with big groups of people. I wasn’t nervous about being around people, but the thought of small talk made me sick to my stomach - it caused me to have full blown panic attacks. My people are the core of my life and supporting them brings me immense joy. So I showed up as I was and hoped I’d be ok. What I learnt about this was that I needed to put together a safety plan in case the grief hit me in the middle of the celebration. I needed to know I could find someone in the room that I felt safe with to cry in their arms and they would help me come back to my breath. This in itself was very vulnerable due to my belief that I am too emotional and could potentially take up too much space or distract from the person or people that this celebration was for. I knew I had no choice but to recognize this fear, reach out for support and trust that my humans will hold me up no matter what. And I’m glad I learnt this because having a safety plan has allowed me to show up for myself and feel joy again.
Here are a few things that I learnt in these past 3 months that I know are helpful for others to hear whether you are grieving or someone on your team or in your collective is.
Be vulnerable - it’s ok to be honest with where you are today and what you are navigating. You don’t need to go into any detail with anyone, but naming the thing that you are carrying with you will help it carry less weight and hopefully make you feel less anxious about it.
Have a safety plan / safety person. Put together a full plan of how you need to be supported in case grief and anxiety hits you while you are out in the world. For me, sometimes I just needed a hand to hold and a really tight hug until I could breathe again. Sometimes it was bigger and needed to know I could exit and be walked home by that person or on a FaceTime call with a friend. The important piece here is to be clear on what you may need and communicate it to your safety person prior. It’s incredible how much stress this alleviates and this is the ultimate practice of you showing up for yourself so you can show up for others - also known as - hospitality.
It’s ok to leave. It’s ok to change your mind. It’s ok you’re on a rollercoaster. Remain kind and respectful to those around you.
Ask for support - you deserve it. What do you need and from whom? If that person isn’t able to show up, that’s ok, go to your plan b. You have a whole community that is ready and willing with open arms and heart to be there for you.
Lay or sit on the floor- literally. I have spent A LOT of time on the floor in the last 3 months and it’s the most soothing place for me. It grounds me. It’s scientifically proven to calm our bodies.
It’s ok to want to feel joy and laugh again. Grief and joy co-exist. It definitely was hard for me to understand this and not feel shame about feeling joy. I’m still learning but I also know that laughter brings me life. And my dad would want me to be laughing and enjoying every moment of this life so I’m learning to honor that.
Bring tissues with you everywhere. For me, there has been nothing worse than when grief hits hard and I’m snotting and tears are flowing and I don’t have a tissue. Just being real here. Get yourself those travel packs of kleenex - you’ll be grateful you did.
Introduce creativity to break up your thoughts - I like to draw, cook, create, write - anything that’s showing me a new perspective.
Take naps - rest is important.
Movement is your best friend. Staying stagnant keeps emotions and thoughts bottled up. Movement helps disperse the weight. For me it also opened up the floodgates and I’m ok with that - because love this big is a gift and yes, it hurts when that person is taken away too soon. Movement can look like many things - walking, running, rowing, dancing, jumping, swimming.
Share stories - this one was harder for me than I thought it would be. It is an acceptance that my dad is no longer with me in the physical realm and it breaks my heart and brings me to heavy tears. And at the same time, my entire soul wanted to remember and relive all these precious moments with my dad. I’m crying now while typing out this bullet.
Grief can make people feel really uncomfortable. Some people around you may not know what to say, how to support you and may do all the “wrong” things. That’s ok. They are not equipped with the tools to support you in the way you hoped. They may not have experienced loss yet or it makes them very uncomfortable. Death is a weird thing and everyone has a very different relationship to it.
Here are four guiding tidbits for anyone that is leading and / or supporting someone who is grieving.
Listen. Just listen. Don’t feel the need to respond or share or chim in. Listen with your entire self - it makes those on the receiving end feel very held and safe to share and open up. Ask if it’s ok to ask questions before you do. They may not want to have a conversation, they may just need to share.
If you are a hugger, offer a hug but do not assume that they are ok with it. For some, physical touch is intense and a hug may not be what the person needs at that moment. A hug can be a very soothing gift but it can be very triggering if it’s not with someone you feel safe with.
Do not ask “how are you?”. To be honest, this is a dumb question to ask someone who is grieving. Unless you have two hours to listen and hold them, don’t ask. It makes us feel VERY uncomfortable because we will likely respond with “I’m not ok” or “I’m fine” but inside we want to cry and anxiety has started to build because we know we just lied. Instead, you can ask “how are you feeling at this moment?” or “what can I do for you?” or “Is there anything I can do to support you today?”, “how are you nourishing yourself today?”
Checking in is very kind and the simple “thinking of you” is perfect. It shows that you are here for them and you are sending love and support and you are there if they need anything. Asking questions on how someone is doing today is really loaded and just the thought of answering it is exhausting. Avoid it if you can.
Grief takes up a lot of space. It doesn't go away. Our lives just grow bigger around it. I hope my story and learnings can help others - whether you are grieving a loss or you are leading and supporting someone who is.
Thank you for sharing with such vulnerability and sincerity - grief and processing it through the stages is an arduous task, and the tools you shared are amazing. Like fear, grief is often our misunderstood friend who's reminding us to listen to the body and intuition, glad to hear you're doing both. 🩵