As I lay in bed, listening to my husband sleeping and knowing my daughter was still asleep in her own bed, and as we approach Christmas, I found myself reflecting on Christmases past. I was brought back to Christmas as a Child and a particular memory of my father, I was about 6 (the age my daughter is now) and him turning on the Christmas lights and coming out and letting us know that Santa had been and our presents were there. That memory will live rent free in my entire body forever.
Christmas was very much our thing. It was a time of magic, of fun, of wonder for me as a child and for my father to bring out his inner child. We really connected at Christmas in particular and that was the most wonderful thing.
I then remember Christmas Eve of 1999. That connection was shattered. I remember feeling numb, the whole day of my father’s funeral was like an outer body experience. I remember focusing on my mum and my brothers (only in their teens at the time). I remember seeing grown men crying (there is something about men crying that really hits hard for me) and being overwhelmed by the church overflowing with people. I remember reaching my hand out to comfort those men crying and people hugging me, all of it like some kind of crazy outer body experience or a bad dream.
I think to now, and the women I support, the initial conversations as they tell me what has been going on for them, that familiar out of body experience in front of my eyes as they do. How detached we become to protect ourselves, even in retelling the story of what we have been through.
For many, that is how we cope. We focus our attention on others and how they are impacted; this helps us shift our focus from ourselves. We create that detachment from self as a copying shield so that we don’t feel the pain. If we were to feel that pain, we may fall apart, and we often feel like we don’t have time to do that. Our body is not ready to cope with or acknowledge that amount of grief, loss or pain. Yet the pain and grief has to go somewhere. That somewhere is stored up in our bodies, the very place that at the time, cannot cope with it. Grief is very much a complex, complicated, messy and individual experience.
Something I have learnt over the years about grief, (there had been plenty before my father passed and I spent my childhood and teens waiting for that day that finally came in Christmas of 1999), is that it comes in waves and it is also cyclical. That it takes a long time to understand our own experience of it and our own understanding of it. I have learnt we can’t run from it and indeed when we stop, and acknowledge it, that is when the healing can really start. But that point is reached, individually, when we are ready. It cannot be forced. It cannot or indeed should never be dictated by the needs or discomfort of others. It has to come from you. That is such an important thing to understand.
When I talk about grief and it coming in waves or being cyclical, I think of the different stages. I truly understand that it is not linear, that the stages of shock, denial, anger, hope or bargaining, depression, testing, trauma and acceptance can indeed loop. That years or even decades can come and go and the different stages can come up for us as we navigate life and our own grief. As we learn to move forward in our lives, as we learn to understand and acknowledge that grief , we also learn how to live and find joy in our lives.
My journey with grief has indeed been a long and complicated one. It was present in my life for so long, yet I see now how it has shaped me. What I have learnt about myself, and my own personal understanding of it. It has shaped me personally in how I connect with others, in forming my own relationships over the years. In my relationship with my mother and brothers as we very much had different was of processing our own grief and how we finally came back to each other.
Losing someone you love is hard, be it the loss of a parent, partner, sibling, friend, or child. It all matters and it is all very much personal and valid to you in your experience of it. Loss of a future you thought you would have also matters. That is something that we don’t talk enough about, particularly when it comes to our #reproductivestory and #infertility. The future we thought we would have Vs the reality of what is going on for us now.
Grief has indeed shaped me, the hurt, the fear, the loss, my confidence and  connection with others, but it has also brought me to where I am today. The deep understanding of it, the experience of it, along with my own fertility journey and navigating pregnancy and then motherhood while processing my own inner child work, has created that gift of holding space for others as they do the same.
Grief is complicated and messy. As part of the human experience it deserves time to be understood. Understood in a way that supports you and feels right for you. My biggest learning is that there is space for grief and joy to coexist. That feeling joy or living does not dishonor your grief or memories of others or of what you thought your life would be like. Instead it very much honours it.
If you are currently navigating your own grief, this is a gentle reminder to go easy on yourself. If any of this resonates with you and you feel like you might like support, please feel free to reach out. I will have space for 1:1 support from the 20th of January (I have some morning availability before then). We can start with a phone call, a space for your to briefly talk about what is going on for you, to ask me questions and to see if working with me feels right for you.
Go easy on yourself this Christmas. From my heart to yours. Much love. Dara xxx
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