Confessions of a Counselor in Grief

Grief has become a familiar friend- you know one of those people who you see from afar, and you try to avoid them because you don’t have time to chat, but they still manage to catch up to you and talk? And yet people like this, if you take the time to listen to them, have much to teach us about life, as does grief. You see, the wisest man in the world, Solomon wrote in Ecclesiastes 7:

It is better to go to a house of mourning than to go to a house of feasting, for death is the destiny of everyone; the living should take this to heart.

I call grief familiar, because I have much experience with this friend. When I was 16, my mother died of lung cancer. My boyfriend’s mom (I called her my second mom) died of cancer, and within a few more years my boyfriend died of a very rare cancer. 

This felt like a plague that I was bent on avoiding.  (“I’m ok, I’m ok!”) I moved on with my life and actually “ran away” (emotionally and physically) from where I grew up in Maine to attend college in Ohio to earn a degree in psychology and then a master’s degree in counseling- quite ironic, isn’t it? Later, I met my husband at church; we got married and began our own family. I was thrilled to establish a close relationship with his mom, whom I called upon and depended on her as my (third) “mom.” Cancer took her life, and I was devastated. I believe death caught up to me to the point where I could no longer avoid it.  I experienced the feelings of grief deeply, and yet had to continue to be the mom and wife that I truly wanted to be. Counseling and long talks with our Father assisted me through this dark time.  And in the recent past (3 years ago), my husband of 23 years passed away from pancreatic cancer. In all honesty, I have felt that death is like a scourge to me that will never relent. However, I am realizing that grief is truly a friend that is teaching me how to live more purposefully, and how to love and receive love from our Father more deeply. In the past, I ran from acknowledging death and I ran emotionally from God. Like the psalmist in Psalm 139, in my heart I was living what he stated:

Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence? If I go up to the heavens, you are there; If I make my bed in the depths, you are there…

9 If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea,10 even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast.    

And He did…

I think the most helpful and fascinating aspect of grief is understanding how the brain processes it.

Let me explain. First, let’s understand that our brains have a spatial map that guides us around our own home.  If you were to be blindfolded (if you lived at your home for any length of time), you could probably navigate around the kitchen, living room and bathroom without bumping into something, that is, unless one of your family members is an exceptionally messy person, a 2-year old, or is constantly moving the furniture like my sweet mother-in-law used to do! You have a spatial map inside your brain that predicts where things are. The brain (specifically in a small area called the hippocampus) also creates a relational “brain map,” according to Mary-Frances O’Connor, PhD in her book, The Grieving Brain; The Surprising Science of How We Learn from Love and Loss. Dear reader, think of a loved one right now. You probably have a good sense of where they are. For me, my boys are all working in various places that I could name in detail. My extended family members are in various cities in New England, and my friends are at work. O’Connor states, “We use brain maps to find our loved ones, to predict where they are, and to search for them when they are gone. A key problem in grief is that there is a mismatch between the virtual map we always use to find our loved ones, and the reality after they die, that they can no longer be found in the dimensions of space and time. The unlikely situation that they are not on the map at all, the alarm and confusion that this causes, is one reason grief overwhelms us.”  

Reality simply does not compute for us when a loved one dies. Objects don’t just disappear (despite what magicians may tell you); there is always a rational reason as to why we cannot find things- I misplaced it, I forgot where I put something, someone moved it without telling me…And yet our loved one cannot be located anymore?  Permanently?! Unthinkable!  For a time, that reality is irreconcilable. O’Connor states, “On another level this does not compute; the brain cannot predict this possibility, because it is outside the brain’s experience. The idea that a person simply does not exist anymore does not follow the rules the brain has learned over a lifetime.”

Expressing grief is a normal and natural way of walking through it (not avoiding it, as I have in the past). Our dear Father gave us the ability to cry for a purpose. When we are sad, overwhelmed or stressed, we cry emotional tears. Did you know that emotional tears are constitutionally different than “reflex tears” which clear debris from your eye? Emotional tears are thought to contain hormones and neurotransmitters that contribute to the cathartic effect of crying. What a gift!

Weeping has been a familiar exercise over the past 3 years, and I can assure you that if I don’t release my emotions through crying; it builds up. Giving myself permission to grieve is a gift that I appreciate more and more- even after several years of loss.  

I have learned many things through this latest grief journey. I will share with you three:

#1. I am weaker and more needy than I ever dreamed I could be. I have three very precious young men who depend on me, a home (inside and outside) to keep up with, a counseling business to run, clients who are in various stages of need, friends to love, and an extended family with whom to connect. Many days I am overwhelmed and at a loss of how to proceed. I recall confiding in a close friend, “I despise my neediness.” I grew up experiencing the fact that I was the only one that I could depend on after my mom died. However, I eventually realized that in my weakness, I could look to God who strengthened me and provided for me. In my weakness I became strong. But it was only in my realization of weakness that I realized that I needed someone outside of myself to help me. This is the second thing that I have learned.

#2. In my grief, God is a faithful Father forever. He has never let me down. He has always provided what I needed, and He is my constant Companion. He says in Hebrews 13:5 that He will never fail me; He will never abandon me (NLT).

#3. I have learned that relationships with friends and family are worth the time and emotional investment. My friends and family (including my church family) have been an indescribable gift to me in so many ways.

It has not been seamless. I have spent many weekends alone, and times seeing other intact families enjoying time together.  But ultimately, I am ok. And my family and friends have consistently been there for me. I remember saying to God, “If this is how the emotional pain of loss feels, I don’t want it!” Being human is messy and so is love. But loving others is a mess worth making. So, dear reader- be real with your friends and family. Tell them that you love them every day- even if it is awkward- eventually it won’t be. Remember to be gentle with yourself in your grief. And finally, please know that there is a Father in Heaven who longs for you to know his gentleness and nearness.  All you have to do is ask…