“Our strength will continue if we allow ourselves the courage to feel scared, weak, and vulnerable.” –Melody Beattie
In loss and grief, emotions get reordered from the inside out. Despite the endless stream of thoughts activating emotional loops of vulnerability, you soldier on, sometimes feeling broken and weak.
Those who love us advise us to be strong, unknowingly reinforcing our dread that we feel we are anything but. In the past, I’ve offered the same misguided support to others because I lacked the awareness to notice because I couldn’t show up for my pain, I couldn’t show up for theirs. In truth, I didn’t know what to say or do to comfort others. I learned from being on the other side of grief I needed only to share a hug and tell you, “I may not know what you need right now, but I love you, and I’m here for you.” A little vulnerability goes a long way.
Confessions of a grief-naïve human.
During my early grief after my husband’s death, I was convinced I needed to face the world holding back tears, avoiding eye contact, and hiding my humanity and vulnerability. It didn’t take long for me to stop sharing my true feelings, as finding someone who wouldn’t flee at the first sign of emotion was rare. To avoid appearing weak, my standard response became, “I’m fine. How are you?” Eventually, when that response turned into an unbearable, crushing weight inside me, it was easier to withdraw. The isolation felt safe- though not healthy.
Denial is a great coping tool until it’s not.
My grief caused me to crack from the inside out. I feared if I ceased pushing myself, avoiding, denying, or hiding, I would topple and burst wide open, like Humpty Dumpty, beyond repair.
Honestly, nothing was the same after my husband’s death, and cracking wide open to expose the hidden emotions was precisely what I needed. I eventually learned to sift through many bits, piece by piece, slowly build some resilience, create a connection with my vulnerable self, and begin healing.
Here’s the thing: as a society, our dualistic nature leads us to view the world in black-and-white terms, which makes perfect sense. We need to know if we are safe or should run like hell. However, I’ve learned that perspective doesn’t serve us well regarding emotions. Dualistic thinking closes doors to the depth of who we are.
Being strong and weak aren’t mutually exclusive.
We can hold space for opposing emotions as we grieve. Positive and negative emotions, joy and sorrow, are intertwined; the more we learn to recognize this, the more room we create for healing and growth.
Emotions are dynamic, and honing our awareness of what’s happening in and around us allows space for discerning thoughts, feelings, and responses. When we can gift that to ourselves, imagine how present we can be for others in pain to be a source of mutual comfort, hope, and love. Countless opportunities to share human tenderness and compassion are revealed.
My ‘weakness’, fear, and vulnerability became my strengths in a space of subtle knowing as I healed. I continue to learn how to hold space for that vulnerability in myself and others.
Be the person who awakens to your vulnerability, weakness, and fear. It is then that you can be present for others—not to fix but to witness, walk alongside, and listen from a space of love. Hearts to hearts.
