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I have wanted to talk about this for a long time, but now, I am working with a hypnotherapist and a lot of grief is coming to the surface.
The people I am grieving are still alive.
I am grieving loss of dreams and much more.
This grief triggers old grief.
Just want to suggest that grieving people who are still living is a thing (and of course, not in competition with people who are grieving deaths of loved ones).
I think grieving is about loss. So much in our lives ends without any marker. Our youth and who we used to be, our dreams, our connections to people. I think it's especially healthy to grieve who we were and who we might have been.
I think grieving is about loss. So much in our lives ends without any marker. Our youth and who we used to be, our dreams, our connections to people. I think it's especially healthy to grieve who we were and who we might have been.
I don't personally believe there is any "what might have been." I mean, no one ever seems to talk about "what might have been" in terms of "Right, I could be dead at age 2," or "I could have a debilitating disease by age 30" or whatever - it seems like it's always an "I coulda been a contender" sort of thing.
I will tell you this though - yes, at age 58 I am no longer 28. I can hardly imagine feeling the energy and vitality I felt at that age, jumping up from the floor, jogging, etc. I guess I could grieve about that loss, but I really don't spend much time thinking about it, because I also didn't have the wisdom I have now and frankly that seems like a good trade off to me. So I don't feel like I LOST anything if that makes sense. Things have changed. I didn't LOSE those years - I lived them and now I'm living in another stage of my life.
Losing someone very dear to us does feel very different to me than other types of loss. I do agree though that grief is about loss. I grieved when I lost my my parents and my brother, differently for each one but I did grieve. And I grieved when I got divorced in my thirties, though in a totally different way as well. And then I lost my current husband and my world tilted on it's axle. Totally different type of grief and so much deeper and more painful than any other loss.
So yes, I agree that grief is about loss and that there are many different forms of grief - I just don't believe in grieving over "what might have been."
My best friend lost her husband recently. He had been under hospice care for months. She really started grieving for him when she got his diagnosis, so he hadn't gone yet.
Personally I find grief to be very difficult and messy and fatiguing and it's definitely not an emotion or set of emotions I want to immerse myself in.
The term "Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof" comes to my mind.
Not sure what you are looking for. I have a close friend who has metastatic cancer. She is barely hanging on with treatment that makes her sick. I think she's made it close to 2 years now. I have grieved for her all along.
I get what you are talking about. I was shunned by my Jehovah's Witness mother and it took 2 years to work through the grief process. I had to grieve the loss of the mother I wish I had then the loss of the mother I did have. I had to grieve not being the daughter she wanted as well.
I have wanted to talk about this for a long time, but now, I am working with a hypnotherapist and a lot of grief is coming to the surface.
The people I am grieving are still alive.
I am grieving loss of dreams and much more.
This grief triggers old grief.
Just want to suggest that grieving people who are still living is a thing (and of course, not in competition with people who are grieving deaths of loved ones).
I am glad you are working with a hypnotherapist (hopefully, one qualified in other areas, as hypnotherapy is a grey area as far as education and psychology).
Loss issues are related to grief many times, but can also be indicators of depression, unrealized potential, and other issues. I'll try to show just one possibility out of many:
Say that you played piano as a child and were good at it, but not spectacular. Then, you slammed your hand in a car door and your piano playing days were over. There are various mental ways to address the debilitating change, some more productive than others. One way might be to shift focus to another instrument or choral work, another might be to compensate by composing, yet another might go in a direction completely away from music and into other arts. Yet another way of addressing the event is to grieve the loss of a potential career as a pianist.
Obviously, some of the options are more productive than others, but all are valid as ways of coping. When a way of coping interferes with happiness, exploring options and reasons for such types of coping can help having a more positive life going forward.
Every one of us has patterns of response. Some of those responses are not the best ones we might have (and I speak from experience as well as learning) so working with someone trained to understand ways that your inner processes can grow is a blessing.
I think grieving is about loss. So much in our lives ends without any marker. Our youth and who we used to be, our dreams, our connections to people. I think it's especially healthy to grieve who we were and who we might have been.
Hmm, I've never thought grieving living people wouldn't be possible or unusual. Most of us lose a relationship with a living relative or friend at some point. We can lose track of someone due to distance, conflict, time, philosophy, inattention, cognition, and, yes, to death. Why wouldn't you grieve that living person? It may just take more self awareness/analysis to realize it as those sorts of losses can sneak up on us and they don't always have finite dates pinned to them as deaths do. The door is often left partway open because of denial, hope or wishful thinking.
Last edited by Parnassia; 10-07-2020 at 01:43 PM..
I don't personally believe there is any "what might have been." I mean, no one ever seems to talk about "what might have been" in terms of "Right, I could be dead at age 2," or "I could have a debilitating disease by age 30" or whatever - it seems like it's always an "I coulda been a contender" sort of thing.
I will tell you this though - yes, at age 58 I am no longer 28. I can hardly imagine feeling the energy and vitality I felt at that age, jumping up from the floor, jogging, etc. I guess I could grieve about that loss, but I really don't spend much time thinking about it, because I also didn't have the wisdom I have now and frankly that seems like a good trade off to me. So I don't feel like I LOST anything if that makes sense. Things have changed. I didn't LOSE those years - I lived them and now I'm living in another stage of my life.
Losing someone very dear to us does feel very different to me than other types of loss. I do agree though that grief is about loss. I grieved when I lost my my parents and my brother, differently for each one but I did grieve. And I grieved when I got divorced in my thirties, though in a totally different way as well. And then I lost my current husband and my world tilted on it's axle. Totally different type of grief and so much deeper and more painful than any other loss.
So yes, I agree that grief is about loss and that there are many different forms of grief - I just don't believe in grieving over "what might have been."
My best friend lost her husband recently. He had been under hospice care for months. She really started grieving for him when she got his diagnosis, so he hadn't gone yet.
Personally I find grief to be very difficult and messy and fatiguing and it's definitely not an emotion or set of emotions I want to immerse myself in.
The term "Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof" comes to my mind.
I think the "who we might have been" is another way of expressing dreams. In a sense, choosing one road entails the death of the roads not taken, at least as that road exists in a time and place. I think that might be what Frost meant in his poem.
I'm 63, and I do feel some loss in those years, but I think I'm supposed to learn something from the loss. In the moment I'll do something awkwardly or take way to long to plan some relatively simple act like picking up a coin off the floor, and I'll laugh at myself a little. I think I've learned what those small changes have to teach me.
But as I said here once before, the thing that seems to be still instructing me is the loss of the feeling of possibility, the horizon being inviting and seemingly endless. That was a bit of an illusion then, but in the sense that it was possibly true, I miss it at times and I can't quite laugh about it. I do think that feeling has some lesson for me though, and while not a comical one, not a tragic one either.
I decided to *mourn* my father a few years ago. He is a deadbeat who didn’t spend a dime on me. It was nice to let go of all my hatred for him. I feel okay now.
I don't personally believe there is any "what might have been." I mean, no one ever seems to talk about "what might have been" in terms of "Right, I could be dead at age 2," or "I could have a debilitating disease by age 30" or whatever - it seems like it's always an "I coulda been a contender" sort of thing.
People grieve things that might have been had they not been struck with an illness or gotten a divorce or things like that.
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