Supporting ourselves through loss
After my dad died, my body was working so hard to contain the grief that the only exercise I could do was walk around the block. One. Block.
It was as though my life had smashed headfirst into a brick wall. Routines held no allure, food and drink were things to force rather than look forward to, time shape-shifted — minutes were gruelingly long and weeks slipped by unnoticed. I wavered from states of deep fog to acute, mindful attention to the smallest details. On one of my one-block-walks, taking slow, shuffling steps like I was in my 90s instead of my 30s, I vividly remember seeing the first spring blossoms opening on the tree outside my house. I stared at them, devouring each detail: a breathing statue alongside the cherry tree. I can still see the blossoms when I close my eyes.
Loss has the power to rearrange us like nothing else can. Losses vary in scale and in intensity — layoffs, relationships ending, a major medical diagnosis, bankruptcy, death of loved ones — but they all come with opportunities to shift in ways we may never have considered before. They also bring a particular kind of discomfort or pain, because loss requires an element of letting go of certain parts of ourselves and landing into new parts of our identities.
I’ve journeyed my own losses and walked beside clients as they navigated their individual losses. Along the way, I’ve noticed themes of what loss requires of us, what invitations it offers and some of the most helpful things we can do to support ourselves. I want to share two of those here.
I first learned about the practice of self-compassion (an evidence-based modality) during the first few months after my dad passed away. I was desperate for anything that could help me navigate the emotional, mental and physical pain I was feeling. I discovered that the body responds to soothing touch by releasing hormones and chemicals like oxytocin, and, surprisingly, our bodies don’t differentiate between the touch of our own hands or those of a loved one. So, in my most painful moments, I started giving myself gentle hugs, placing my hand over my heart and talking to myself like I would my mom or my sister. “I know it hurts. You loved him so much. I’m right here with you, and I’m not going anywhere.” It helped. I felt more supported, less alone. The abyss of pain softened around the edges.
Self-compassion practices are my clients’ go-to tools when they are experiencing the peak emotions of their losses. When we encounter something that is not fixable or figure-out-able, the best ways we can support ourselves is through acceptance and self-compassion practices. (If you’d like to explore more on your own, I recommend the RAIN tool by Tara Brach or the many exercises on self-compassion.org created by Dr. Kristin Neff.)
The second theme I’ve noticed with loss is the invitation (requirement?) it brings — reorientation. Significant losses have a clear “before” and “after.” For many of us, they act as a threshold: the start of a new chapter, whether or not we wanted one. There are parts of us that fall away and new parts that rise up. What really matters becomes crystal clear. Perhaps we no longer care about what people or society think of us; we instead tune into our own deep wisdom. We give ourselves permission to take steps we might never have otherwise. We rebuild our lives and our identities, one laborious step at a time.
In my experience, the clients who have turned toward their loss allowed their emotions, endeavored to be kind to themselves, explored “what is true for me now?” and stayed committed to the path of integration rather than distraction; they create an “after” that is more. More grounded. More compassionate. More meaningful.
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Tiffany Skidmore is a mental health and life coach who specializes in anxiety. Email your questions and feedback to tiffany@tiffanyskidmore.com or submit them anonymously at tinyurl.com/thelifecoach. Visit tiffskidmore.com to learn more about Tiffany and her work.