The Unexpected Eruption Of Grief

The unexpected eruption of grief rose up from the depths of my soul.  It reared its head, wrapped its arms around my body and enveloped my heart. 

And then it squeezed. 

You just never know when this eruption of grief is going to arise in your body. You feel nauseous, can’t breathe and a knot begins to form in the pit of your stomach.  The thoughts rolling around in your brain are telling you that you can’t survive this pain. And it may decide to stay for awhile.

Feeling hopeful and calm, I wrote an article a couple of months ago about how I was learning to embrace life during my 2nd year of grieving. I really felt like I was in a pretty good head space.  The loss of Kelsey didn’t feel quite as raw and I was using many of the strategies I knew would help me to heal. 

The Volcano Erupts

But then this eruption of grief unexpectedly overwhelmed me.  The grief hit me as if the tragedy of my daughter’s death had just happened.  I became depressed, had difficulty getting out of bed, made some haphazard decisions and couldn’t concentrate.  In essence, my grief overtook me.  I also realized that this same eruption of grief occurred about 6 months prior.

I ached for my girl and felt incredibly sad.  How did I manage to get through this eruption?

Years 1, 2, & 3 Of Grief

I reached out to my lifeline Susan, my grief counselor.  She reminded me that this is how grief usually works. Generally, most grief work is done in the first 3 years.

Year One is when we’re numb, in shock and going through the motions of living.  And we are In it.  We’re trying to deal with the gut-wrenching pain of losing our child or loved one. It’s real trauma.

Year Two is when some space opens up between the grief and sadness.  We may not cry as often but when the grief arises and erupts, it’s intense and volatile. The year of firsts is over and now we’re just left with the gaping wound that never heals. We are left feeling ungrounded, not knowing where we belong and trying to find a new way of living without our child. We’re trying to make peace with it and truly understand that our loved one is gone. It can also be the hardest year. 

Year Three is when we look to our loved ones, family and friends, to let us know that it’s going to be okay. And that we’re going to be okay. That we will survive this tragedy of living the rest of our lives without our child.

Feeling Ungrounded in Grief

When this volcano of grief erupted, ungrounded was exactly the word that described how I was feeling.  For me, I knew I needed to lean into my grief and that’s okay. But I didn’t like the feeling of my grief moving in, making itself comfortable and deciding to stay a while. 

So, I told myself I had a choice.  I was in control of how this situation was going to unfold…NOT my grief. This unexpected eruption of grief was not going to take me down.

So, with Susan’s advice, support from friends and family and my own strong will, I decided it was time to tell my grief to move out.  I know it’s okay and necessary, when it comes for a visit. But my mental health cannot sustain it taking over my life.

Grieving is very hard work but we need to move through it to gain the strength needed to live life with our loss. I know that’s what Kelsey would want but more importantly, it’s what I want. 

Can grief be a gift?

How can that question even be asked?  Grief is full of sadness, despair, regret and guilt; negative emotions.  A gift is something we give to another to express love, gratitude and appreciation.  For some, this might sound strange but my daughter has given me a gift.

Before Kelsey passed, I had been on a journey of spiritual exploration. After she left, this exploration deepened and intensified. Grief has allowed me to look deeper into my soul for meaning and purpose in life. And I thank my beautiful daughter for this. She is the one who is now guiding me, along with the other members of my “soul team,” helping me become a better person. This is her gift to me.

Do I wish she was still here with me living life so I could envelop her in hugs and love? Of course!  And although she isn’t here physically, I absolutely know that I can still surround her with my love.  It’s just different.  And I’m learning to live life without her physical being. 

This unexpected eruption of grief is going to come again.  That I know.  Will I be prepared for it?  Maybe.  I do know that now I’ll have a better understanding of what’s happening and that I’ll be okay. It’s just part of the process.

I’ll survive to face another day and my spiritual journey to find meaning and purpose will continue.  And this is how I will choose to live my life with grief.

Thanks for reading!

Karen