Grief Is a Whole-Body Process

They say you should write what you know. Two things that I know deep in my bones are grief and birth. I’m looking forward to a time when writing about birth will make sense. For now, I want to write to you about our collective grief.

We’re not great at grieving as a culture, especially in the church. So while we’ve all experienced grief, we haven’t necessarily had models of what we can say or do that might comfort grieving people. Even worse, we haven’t had healthy models for how to talk to ourselves in our grief.

That’s changing. Voices are rising up, calling out the dysfunction of the past and modeling new approaches.

This is good, because we’re all in the thick of it right now. Everyone I talk to is grieving something. For some of us, the grief is confined to a corner of our lives, and we’re passing through it. Others of us have been swallowed alive. The whole landscape of our life has changed, and no part of it will ever be the same. Wherever you are on that spectrum, I want to suggest some things that can help, with the caveat that you try them on and feel free to take only what fits.

The Only Way Out Is Through

We can avoid grief as long as we choose, but it is diligent and faithful. Grief will always come back for the parts we have skipped or left behind in the rush to heal and move on. There’s no outsmarting or short circuiting grief. The only way out of it is to fully feel our way through it.

We tend to sidestep this process as a society, and especially as believers. We know the Bible can be a source of genuine comfort in crisis. Unfortunately, Scriptures about hope and healing can also be misused. One way this happens is through spiritual bypassing. Spiritual bypassing is the replacement of a genuine emotion (like sorrow) with a more acceptable substitute (like hope). Hope is an incredible gift, but if you’re feeling pressured to express hope when you haven’t moved through denial or despair yet, spiritual bypassing may be at work.

Instead of bypassing your grief, really notice how it shows up. Feel it fully in your body. Notice where you feel its weight or pull or ache.

If you can write about it, do that. If you don’t have any words yet, maybe it has a sound. Vocalize that sound. Or maybe you need to dance it out. Grief is a whole body process, and you won’t just move through it emotionally. Healing fully means literally moving through it.

Grief Won’t Be Quantified

Comparing our grief to someone else’s delays the process of moving through it. Even though you didn’t choose it, your grief is your grief. It is legitimate. It may not be the worst thing that’s ever happened to you, but it still deserves your attention.

There will always be someone going through something worse. But feeling guilty that you have it better than someone else, or feeling guilty about being sad instead of being grateful is another form of avoidance. Comparing the grief of a loved one to someone else’s won’t give them a helpful perspective. It’s more likely to stifle healthy expressions of grief.

Instead of comparing your grief or anyone else’s, validate what is. Honor the pain, no matter how minor it may seem in the overall scheme of things. Be honest about all the ways the loss impacts your life, and grieve each one.

Invite Curiosity

Grief physically causes our bodies to pull inward. Stooped shoulders and downcast eyes mirror what’s going on emotionally, and it’s necessary for a time. As we navigate the process, well-meaning people will urge us to move on. It’s not helpful. Please don’t put this kind of pressure on yourself or anyone else. Grief is not linear. It’s not a series of boxes you can check so you can be cleared to move on.

Grief won’t conform to your timetable. What takes some people weeks may take others years. We need to stand guard over the door to our own lives and not open it to this type of pressure.

If you can, leave it open (just a crack) for curiosity. Not hope, not optimism, just curiosity. Curiosity won’t accuse or push. It doesn’t force a smile. But when you’re ready, it will pose questions: fresh, genuinely open questions. These questions can hold the space that used to be filled, before the loss. When you’re ready, they can help you begin to imagine a future in a way that honors your loss.

One great thing about curiosity is that it respectfully shares space with other, louder emotions. You can be mostly enraged and still feel faintly curious. You can be devastated and vaguely curious. You can be terrified and slightly curious. Curiosity is your bridge back to yourself, a bridge to the you who will be born out of your grief. Curiosity is a companion that will honor and challenge you, in your grief and beyond.

Whatever else you do, seek to honor your grief. Seek to be authentic in it.

[Tweet “Whatever else you do, seek to honor your grief. Seek to be authentic in it.”]

Hannah Kallio is an Israeli who’s at home in France, Italy, and Minnesota. A homemaker who had it all, gave it all away, and lived out of a backpack. She loves one man, 5 kids, and the crazy story God is writing in their lives even more than palm trees, ancient ruins, and deepest dark chocolate. She writes, coaches, speaks, sings, and creates her guts out at hannahkallio.org.

Photograph © Shane, used with permission