In my last post, Grief Over Loss, I reflected on a painful moment that recently happened in my personal life. While it was important to share that post, I also want to make sure my blog offers readers a helping hand if they are dealing with something similar. Today I want to talk about After The Storm.
After The Storm
Once you've gotten that phone call, the one that tells you your mother has a limited amount of time left, or that email that says, “the end,” or that face-to-face interaction that leaves your cup bone dry, you will find yourself moving through grief.
We've all heard of the five stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance. What people (cough, therapists) don’t tell you is that for some things, especially exceptional loss, you will move through these stages not only out of order, but multiple times before you move forward. For some, we never move past the initial grief. It lingers far longer than we wish it would.
The stage that’s not listed anywhere online is what I call After The Storm. It’s the stage where you sit back and consider why the pain is there and how you’re going to take the next step.
Let’s use the example of the email that says, “the end.” We’ve all gotten one. Maybe it’s a relationship. Maybe it’s a career. Maybe it’s a beloved family member walking away. No matter the reason, the hurt is real and valid.
What do you do?
First of all, getting a “the end” message in an email is awful in and of itself. It doesn’t allow your nervous system time to prepare. The initial shock feels like someone has placed a defibrillator over your heart and hit the power button, despite there being nothing wrong with it in the first place. Your breath quickens and then stalls. Your brain can’t process the reaction, so you end up crying even though you hate crying.
I hate when the tears fall and you’re powerless to stop them.
With an email, you’re left wondering if “the end” means finality or “for now.” The part of you that carries a boatload of hope craves the “for now” because it allows you to breathe without wanting to curl into a ball and sleep until the pain stops.
The excitement you once had loses its shine, and even if it is “for now,” you struggle to find that same joy. Hope still stands in the wings, pushing you to hold on. So for the first few days you overthink everything and go back and forth between, “I hate them,” “I miss the opportunity to know,” and “Is this really over?”
It’s a dark cloud where you’re not sure if you’ll ever regain the aliveness that once lived inside you.
Rewrite The Stars
Eventually, you do.
It’s not comfortable. You slide backward. You stumble. But eventually your grip becomes firmer, your steps become steadier, and you begin to realize that what’s meant to be will be. If it’s not the reality you thought it was, then you start rewriting the stars into the reality you choose going forward.
How do you do that?
1) You set new boundaries.
You’ve done your part. The person who ended things, whether it was a job, relationship, or family dynamic, has made their boundaries clear. You honor those. Now it’s your turn to set your own. Write them down. Talk them through with a friend if you’re able. Repeat them so you don’t slide backward.
2) You don’t beg.
Begging for love, a job, or a family relationship is weakness. There, I said it. If someone has driven you to beg, it makes you both look small, and you don’t want that.
3) Know your worth and add tax.
The person who ended the relationship, let you go from the job, or walked away may have had good intentions. Accept that. That is their truth. But also know your worth and claim it.
4) Embrace the lesson.
People and situations come into our lives for a reason, a season, or a lifetime. No matter which “the end” this was meant to be, embrace the lesson it taught you. Did it show you that some people will never change? Did it make you realize that the job you dreamed about for thirty years isn’t the one meant for you? Did the person you loved with more of your heart than you had to spare teach you that being alive isn’t selfish?
Embrace that. It may be the very reason it was placed in your life to begin with.
In my novella Shattered Yesterdays, there’s a quote that says, “Grief doesn’t work on the same timetable for everyone.” That’s true. It’s okay to be sad. It’s okay to mourn a dream or something special you didn’t want to lose.
But it’s not okay to lose yourself in the process.
What does your After The Storm look like? Comment below.
Comments ()