Let Yourself Be Held

For a long time after my mom died, I talked about grief being something I had to carry. And it is, actually. But it’s not something I necessarily have to carry alone... or quietly… or competently. 

In the beginning, I didn’t actually know what was helpful while I was in the thick of it. I knew I was hurting, but I didn’t have the language for what I needed or how to ask for it. So I defaulted to doing what I’ve always done… figuring it out for myself.

Eventually, I found my way to grief therapy. And slowly I started to understand myself better. I began to notice what helped and what didn’t. I learned how to name my needs, and how to let people who loved me show up in ways that actually supported me.

Grief obviously didn’t disappear, but it felt less and less like I had to go at it alone.

Lately, grief has been bubbling up again with the holidays coming and from becoming a mom without my mom. Some nights I have to tuck it away and shove it down, and other nights I let it come, and I let myself fall apart. And more recently, I let myself be held.

The other night, grief hit hard. It wasn’t pretty.  I screamed and I cried. It was the ugly kind of cry where snot just runs down your face, and you can’t find your breath. And my husband, Jeff, didn’t try to fix it. 

He just held me.

He told me it was going to be okay.

He whispered, “I’ve got you.”

He reminded me to breathe when I couldn’t remember how.

And in that moment, I remembered how rare, and how healing, it is to let myself be held, both literally and figuratively. 

For some reason grief feels like the loneliest thing you’ll ever go through, and that it’s supposed to be that way. But it’s not. We aren’t meant to grieve alone. Letting yourself be held doesn’t mean you’re not capable… it means you’re human.

Sometimes being held means going to therapy  

Sometimes it looks like finding a group of other grievers to talk to.

Sometimes it looks like a friend who listens without trying to fix.

Sometimes it looks like a partner who wraps their arm around yours and just lets you sob into their chest.

If you’re in the thick of grief, especially during the holidays… remember that you don’t have to carry it alone. You don’t have to be strong every moment. You’re allowed to let yourself be held. And when you do… you might find that the weight doesn’t disappear but it becomes easier to bear.