The ‘unknown’ that lies on the other side of healing
Last week I was writing on how one of the big things that can keep people stuck in grief is simply being scared of change….and particularly of change when you don’t know what the other side looks like.
It can seem counter-intuitive that we would WANT to stay in pain, or find it a comforting place…..but grief can become very familiar very quickly. And it can also quickly fill up what feels like the space of a relationship…..or step in for purpose….or direction….and even identity.
If your identity or purpose felt quite tied up in the person who died it can feel like the most threatening thing in the world to suddenly feel without these. Grief can do a very effective job of becoming purpose and even identity. For many it’s better than nothing. Some will take on their grief as a calling or as a profession….and stick with it, simply because then they don’t have to deal with what happens without it. Especially if you’ve had it a long time.
Now this isn’t a conscious thing you sit down and decide to do. It’s largely unconscious.
A death can feel like it rips things away from us – family, relationships, love, purpose, point, identity. And straight away you have the feelings of grief (whatever they are for you – it’s different for everyone) flooding in. And they can get very familiar very quick.
I was reading something interesting earlier in the week. I think the quote, which I’m likely paraphrasing, is Virginia Satir: that “the strongest instinct in humans is to experience the familiar.” Makes a lot of sense.
We don’t like stepping into the unknown. We don’t like not knowing what’s on the other side. This is why we sometimes stay in shitty relationships, don’t even look for a new job though we hate the one we’re in, stay in the town/city/country we don’t like when we could consider moving, stick it out with friends we don’t like so much anymore because “I’ve known her since high school” (and who do I have without her?!)…because hey, at least we know it right. The ‘out there’ is scary, it’s unknown, it’s unfamiliar….and threatening. So….I’ll just stay here thanks very much.
Grief does this even more so because the ‘what’s next after grief’ is so totally unknown – you can have no idea what you’ll do and who you’ll be. There can be a very strong pull indeed to just stop where you are, nestle down with your grief, and sometimes use it as an excuse for why you can’t change/ aren’t happy/ are depressed/are alone/can’t work/can’t move forward etc etc.
But here’s the thing – it’s only in the space of possibility that anything can happen. I’ve always thought that a wonderful thing. All the things you could do! All the options you have. It’s the place where magic can happen. I know it’s uncomfortable as hell too….but there is a lot of freedom in this in-between unknown space….because anything can come from it. You already know what’s on this side. Yes the other side of it (after healing) can be unknown – but think of all the possibility, and beauty that might be (that certainly is) there.
And here’s the other thing. It’s not like you’ll step out of grief into this inbetween space and aliens will descend on your life, change everything, and you’ll wake up looking different, talking different, living different.
YOU’LL be the one stepping into the new reality after healing, and things only have to shift and change at a pace you’re comfortable with. You don’t have to become a whole new you. You could just be the same you if you like….just not stuck under all this grief.
Most great things wait on the other side of that unknown for you. This does require stepping out of your comfort zone. But it’s worth realising that sometimes our comfort zone really sucks – it’s simply that – a place of comfort. A place you know. It’s not the growth zone. Not the fun zone. Not the possibility zone. Certainly not the love zone. Most certainly not the dreams-come-true zone. It’s just the place that – good or bad – you know pretty well.
Be prepared to simply take one step out from behind your grief, out of the griefy comfort zone, into the possibility zone.
I promise, you won’t regret it.
Kristie
xx
