Hello and welcome to Dear grief guide.
A podcast where each week I answer one anonymous letter from a listener feeling lost, stuck,
heartbroken or overwhelmed in the midst of grief.
My name is Shelby Fercitya.
I'm a grief coach and author and I'm here to help you create a life you love from the
life lost forced you to live.
Let's get to today's letter.
Dear grief guide.
I lost my grandmother in March and we were extremely close.
Now it's almost October.
It feels like she was just here yesterday, but also like it happened ages ago.
I feel like I have no concept of time anymore.
I can't manage the everyday tasks I need to do and I still cry every day.
When will this end?
Please tell me this feeling will end.
I was supposed to be preparing for my nursing exams this year, but I just can't do it.
I can't properly function much less study or focus on anything academic.
Every moment feels like the first without her.
My first summer, my first fall, my first birthday, and soon my first Christmas without
her.
Is it normal to view everything this way?
I don't know anymore.
Is this state my new normal?
Is it normal to see everything?
I know what you mean.
I can't say I'm in your shoes.
I can't say I know how you feel, but I certainly know what you mean.
By I'm still crying.
I'm still counting.
I am still living in this world of deep and dark loss.
And I have to say it makes sense that you're still counting.
But only is it the early days, weeks, months, and years of your loss.
You haven't even passed a year yet.
You've also never done this before.
Grief so often is described as a traumatic experience, little tea trauma, sometimes big
tea trauma, but little tea trauma, because it is so all pervasive.
It affects everything in our lives, that we remember it, a loss, as a very distinct before and
after point in our lives.
We can point to it and say that's the day that everything changed.
And that's very true for traumatic events as well.
And I heard in an interview once on another podcast, somebody described trauma as anything
that feels like too much too fast.
And grief often falls under that definition.
So it makes sense that you are still counting the months and counting the firsts since this
awful loss ripped through your life.
I want to make a point on tears for a second.
And that is that tears are not a morally good or morally bad thing.
I think in society, we see tears often as a sign of weakness or an inability to express
emotions in a more adult way, which is just pardon me, a load of crap.
I hope you can find humor in this or somehow laugh at it because that is what I have to
do to face every day living in a world where people think that crying is a sign that something
is wrong, that you can't handle the truth that you are unable to keep yourself upright.
Listen, I can cry and drive.
I can cry and work.
I can cry and speak.
It is really an incredible thing.
And I'll tell you in terms of tears physiologically, we cry for as long as we need to cry.
It is a de-stressing mechanism that is hardwired into our beings that helps our nervous system
our bodies in general regulate or re-regulate, come back to quote unquote normal or come back
to a state of health from a state of stress from a state of overwhelm from a state of what
the hell is going on here.
We cry to release all of that.
It is when I was trained to become a grief recovery specialist, which is a total tangent,
a method I no longer practice for various reasons.
But one of my favorite things that my instructor said in the training is that tears are very similar
to the release latch on a teakettle.
When we are under stress, when we are to the point of boiling, whether from rage, from
sadness, from fear, from overwhelm, whatever the emotion may be that we're carrying around.
When we cry, it's like releasing the excess steam, the excess pain, the excess fear, joy,
sadness, whatever the case may be in our bodies.
It is one way of many dancing, deep breathing, doing yoga, stretching, taking hot showers.
It is one of many ways that we can do our best to let go of or release or express.
That's a fantastic word to express.
Everything that's inside of us that needs to get out and grief is one of those many things.
So I am not surprised.
And frankly, I am in full support of crying every day if that is a thing that your body needs
in order to have a place for the stress to go, to have a place for your emotions to belong.
Full endorsement, put my stamp on it.
That is something that you can keep doing without fear of of harm to your body without fear
of it never ending.
The great thing about tears is it's physically impossible to cry forever, just like it's
physically impossible to have the hiccups forever.
It eventually will end.
It is physically impossible to scream at the top of your lungs forever.
Your body will shut down.
You will pass out because you run out of air.
And the same is true for crying.
There is only so much physiologically we can do before the body is like turn it off and
turn it back on again because it needs to have a little reboot.
So something I love and something I have to remind myself about crying too is that yes,
it's okay to cry, but more than that, it is impossible for this state of tears to be
constant.
It is impossible to cry forever.
And I don't know if that's comforting to you.
For the body to not only have a built-in release valve, but to know that that form of release
will not be your constant state of being, that is intensely comforting to me at a time
when it can feel like the tears will last forever.
And there is just an endless source of water in my eyeballs.
Like it is so just grounding to know that I will cry, but they will come a point when I
will stop crying, partially because I got other stuff to do, whether that includes sleep
or seeing loved ones or working or going to school, whatever the case may be.
But at some point I will not be crying.
And that is comforting as well to know that there is more beyond that in grief.
Do your question of will this ever end?
That is a question so many grieving people ask.
Or when will this end?
I will tell you that the acute suffering, the sense of I am in the early days, everything
has changed.
I am counting, counting, counting.
I am noticing all the firsts.
I am feeling them at every deep cellular level in my body.
That will end.
I can't tell you when because it's different for everyone.
But what I can tell you is that the seconds feel a lot different than the firsts and the
thirds feel a lot different than the seconds.
I can't tell you if they are going to feel worse or better, but I can tell you they will
feel different than what you are feeling right now.
And what happens when time passes?
People say time heals all.
That is not true because if time itself did all the work, we would all be healed from
everything we have gone through.
That's what you do in the time that matters and something you can do inside of the time
that you are grieving is notice how each milestone is different than the one that came before
it.
You have your first birthday.
You will be living in your first Christmas.
You have had first summer, first fall.
You will have second summer, second fall, second birthday, second Christmas.
These things are all coming forward for you.
Something that helps in grief is to notice as time passes, how are you different?
How are you feeling different?
How are you coping different?
How are you expressing different?
Maybe it's not tears anymore.
Maybe it's something else.
How are you leaning on others or getting support from others differently?
How are you practicing different ways of remembering?
That is a way of noticing.
Here's how things have changed.
Here's how that feeling has ended and another feeling has come up to take its place.
It's not that the pain ends.
It's that it takes different forms.
So perhaps one year it is acute suffering.
It is downright agony.
It is misery.
And the next year it's numbness or overwhelmed or exasperation.
And the next year it's nostalgia with sadness, with acknowledging all the other world events
that happen to be going on at the time and missing your grandmother and how she should
be here for this.
For expression and experience of grief will change and the other thing I'll tell you is this,
as you continue to grieve, as you continue to survive the months and the years because
you must, because we all must.
Grief doesn't become predictable because we can't always tell or set an expectation for
how we're going to feel, but it does become familiar.
Oh grief, there you are again.
Oh grief, I expected to see you here.
Oh grief, showing up as anger, showing up as resentment, showing up as sadness at that,
that has a flavor like it did last October.
That has a flavor like it did last spring.
That has a flavor like it did on my birthday.
Isn't that interesting?
It becomes familiar.
Grief becomes less of an experience we feel accosted by or snuck up on by most of the time
and more something that lives alongside of us that is along for the ride for the entire
rest of our lives, but again has different feelings, emotions, iterations, expressions as we
go along.
Something I teach in my online course Life After Loss Academy in the very last module of
the course.
So we've done a lot of work before this, but it's to see grief as a lifelong companion as
a long-term relationship.
So not grief is something to get rid of, something to get over and move forward from as quickly
as possible, but something that gets folded in to the rest of your life.
This scares a lot of people because what they think I'm saying is that suffering comes
with you forever.
But what I'm saying is grief comes with you forever and one, itty-bitty part of grief is suffering.
But another part of grief, many other parts of grief, are also nostalgia, remembering,
making, carrying your grandmother's memory forward with you, even feeling joy.
Loss is the event that happened.
Grief is everything and I mean everything that comes after.
It could be anxiety, but it could also be hope.
It could be the grief of losing the person who kept all the memories in your household.
It could also be the joy of recalling memories because of a sight, a smell, a sound, a person
who reminds you of her so vividly that something comes rushing forward to you right in front
of your eyes like a gift.
That is also grief.
And so saying grief as this roommate you never wanted to have, who moved into your house
without you asking, without your consent, and the aftermath of your grandmother's death,
how do you live with that presence of her absence for the rest of your life, and how, with
whatever power and control you have in that situation, how can you make it good?
Start with making it tolerable, start with making it possible, which I think you're already
doing right now, but then growing beyond that or through that, how do you make it good?
And this is something I teach inside life after Loss Academy and I would love to have you
join us.
We have quite a few folks who've lost grandparents in the group and understanding the role,
the unique role that they play in people's lives has just been a gift to witness and
to guide through.
One last thing before I send you on your way, still crying, still counting, is you mentioned
nursing exams and studying and this thing coming up for you in the future.
And if school can wait or if studying can wait, if you can put it off for a few months,
for a year at whatever is possible for you, let it wait.
This is something I desperately wish I had done after my mother's death in 2013.
Her biggest wish and my father's biggest wish was that I complete college.
I was in my last semester of my senior year and when I tell you I suffered through school
and school itself made my suffering a lot louder and a lot more lonely, I wish I had done
something different.
I can't tell you what I would have done because I had no idea what my other options were
at the time.
I still can't really fathom that now, but I wish I would have taken time off.
Because I was deep in grief.
Studying was hard, writing a thesis was hard, being social was hard, being surrounded
by people in their 20s who weren't grieving was so hard.
So if school can wait for a few months, for six months, for a year, let it wait and find
something else to do in the meantime.
If you can afford it, if you can access it, if you can lean on others to support you through
it, that is a gift you can give yourself right now.
Just trying to focus, trying to pass an exam, trying to excel while grieving is one of the
hardest tasks you can imagine.
Yes, there are people who do it every day because they have no other option because of the
circumstances that exist in your life and that may be true for you.
If that is true for you, if you must do this right now, take it as easy as you can.
No extra socializing, whatever feels like a bonus in your life, maybe reduce it or cut it
out for the time being.
Maybe you don't need to mail prep, maybe you can order in if you have the privilege and
the finances to do so.
Maybe you don't have to go to a party on campus, maybe you can go to bed early and continue
along with tears to help your nervous system recover from everything that has happened.
Maybe you don't have to constantly drive home for every holiday, maybe you pick two.
Like there are so many ways to soften the experience of school or of college as you're grieving.
And then there are things that you must do in order to qualify for the thing it is that
you are studying for.
So if school can wait, if you have that privilege and luxury, let it wait.
If it can't, how many ways can you soften the experience of being there?
Can you make it grieve friendly?
That's another fantastic way of asking it.
You can look at this unpleasant roommate of grief and ask grief directly, eye to eye,
looking at dead in the face and say, how can I make this experience easy for you?
How can we go to school while grieving?
How can you and I partner through this to come out the other side, not only alive, but
potentially even proud of ourselves?
You are using so much of your energy to grieve right now and I see you in it.
You are not crazy.
You are certainly not alone.
There are so many other people in the world who are grieving and wondering if it's okay
to still feel this way, if it's okay to still count the days.
What I hope you'll do is write to me again in a year, maybe a few months from now, and
just let me know if things still feel the same as they do right now.
One of the benefits of writing letters in grief is they're these small little progress
trackers of our life, whether we notice it or not, they are time capsules of moments in
our life with grief.
I journaled so much after my mother's death and looking back on the things I wrote, I'm
like, wow, my God, how things have changed.
Some for the better, some for the worse, but they do feel different.
What you're going through right now will end.
Something else will take its place.
Others are not bad, they are your body's way of releasing everything you feel and everything
you're overwhelmed by right now.
And if school can wait, let it.
And if it can't, make it soft.
I hope this helps.
Still crying, still counting.
Know that in my own grave 10 years later, I am still counting some things.
And I'm still crying over some things, but I'll tell you what I know for sure.
Something about how I feel right now compares to how I felt then.
I'm wishing you so much love.
That's all for this episode of Dear Grave Guide.
Thank you so much for joining me today.
If you're feeling lost, stuck, heartbroken or overwhelmed in the midst of your own grief,
check out my free workshop Grow Through Grave.
Three ways to stop feeling stuck and start moving forward.
I'll give you three easy, actionable tools for navigating life after loss and show you
how you can create peace, stability and compassion right there in the middle of grief's confusion
and uncertainty.
You can find the workshop link in the show notes.
If this podcast helped you feel a little less alone in your grief, please subscribe and
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And be sure to share Dear Grave Guide with a friend, because you'll never know what someone
you love is going through.
You can submit your anonymous letter for the show and find additional grief support at
shallbeforcithia.com.
Music for Dear Grave Guide is performed by Eddie Goldstein, editing by Ruth Spence of
Sonivia.
Until next time, I see you.
I am so proud of you and the work that you're doing in the world.
And I love you.
Because even through grief, we are growing.
Music for Dear Grave Guide.