The Ways We Feel Grief
The Ways We Feel Grief by Swell Made Co. + Denise Handlarski. Photo by Matt Palmer.
Grief is often associated with death, but as we all know; this past 16 months of the pandemic has shown us grief (whether personal or collective) encompasses an incredible range of human experiences and types of loss.
Loss of identity, loss of security and safety, loss of independence and autonomy, and loss of dreams are a few of the different ways we experience grief. Of course, death presents the most unfathomable type of grief; but we can also lose loved ones when relationships can no longer survive. We grieve in so many ways.
These types of loss can occur concurrently and during different seasons of our lives. Often, many times throughout our lives—but this past 16 months it feels often doesn’t even begin to account for all the grief that has been felt by communities around the globe due to the pandemic and our awareness of hate and oppression in all its forms. We have been in survival mode for a year (some, much more than others) and as the world slowly emerges there’s room to finally process what a tough 16 months it has been. It’s time to make space to grieve, even as the world seems more bright, and that is okay.
Rabbi Denise from Secular Synagogue is here to talk through her thoughts on grief. To help you understand, no matter what type of loss you are going through, it is real and you deserve to grieve.
A Time To Mourn + Grieve
By Denise Handlarski
Lately, I have been feeling a heaviness; a heartache that won’t lift. It is nothing and everything — all of the accrued losses of the pandemic, the pain of and struggle against hate, what feels like a never-ending slog work-wise with no end in sight.
The things that used to bring joy and balance—time with friends, time alone, childcare, nights out dancing, good food over candles in restaurants—all of that has been missing.
I am grieving all my kids have lost and suffered during this time.
And, of course, all those who have died, who have been/are sick, those who have lost employment, those who have suffered tremendously during this time.
We are not grieving any one thing or one person (unless, for some of us, we are) but, rather, the accrued pain and loss of the last year and a half.
In March 2020 we were told that the feeling we were carrying was grief and this past spring we all considered whether we were languishing. We feel brain fog. We feel over it. Or at least I do.
I know for some things are reopening but there is a sense that there won’t be a return to “normal" or, rather, that “normal” has shifted and we need to keep adapting. But adaptation requires energy and we are so, so tired.
Grief comes in waves and for many of us, it feels like we have just gotten our heads above water when another wave comes. Sometimes it can feel like we’re drowning in it. If that’s you, know that you’re not alone.
First, here are some resources on managing grief during this time.
And Jewishly, there are some other ideas.
One of the hardest aspects of lockdowns is that we can’t come together to mourn. Judaism is really good at creating structures around grief—communal gatherings that ensure no one feels alone. During the time of “social distancing,” many feel more alone than ever. The good news is that we have been able to gather online (like via Secular Synagogue - which is always online!) and we are beginning to be able to gather in person as well. Being held by the community does not take away grief, but it can lessen its impacts.
“Just like the land must lie fallow... in order to avoid overproduction and erosion, we too need to rest in order to avoid burnout.”
We have Shabbat practices, reminding us to pause each week. And this year coming up is a Shmita or sabbatical year. Every seven years there are rules around rest. Just like the land must lie fallow in farming in order to avoid overproduction and erosion, we too need to rest in order to avoid burnout.
I know what I’m feeling is grief. I know with grief there is no way around, only through. I know the waves will keep coming but will become easier to roll with, easier to ride. I know that things won’t always feel so hard.
Most of all, I know that in order to process the hits and hardships, lockdowns and losses, of the past year, we need to pay attention to our grief, our languishing, our fatigue, our foggy brains, our rest/sleep-craving bodies. We need to really rest. The Shmita year is a great invitation—I hope you’ll join me in taking it up.
I love Denise’s suggestion of recognizing Shmita. Not just for those who practice Judaism, but for anyone who needs time to truly process the past 16 months. Perhaps, as the world opens up (in some places) and you feel ready—may you heal through rest and small joys this coming year.
Thank you for reading!