Perhaps, Make Space For Grief

We all live each day with a certain amount of grief simmering under the surface. It is there, even if we fail to acknowledge its existence. Not just the grief associated with losing a loved one, but also the ambiguous grief. That one mediocre grade that kept you from your dream school, the friendship that ended abruptly, the realization that you may never be able to afford your dream school, your beautiful child pulling away and asserting their own independence as they enter adolescence, dreams unfulfilled, etc. So much of this loss is unprocessed and not discussed out loud, as many of us are never taught how to grieve.

In the Old Testament, it was the women who were called to lead the community in grieving sessions. They were known as “wailing women” or “keeners.” Their songs and tears assisted in the grieving process.

Thus says the Lord of Hosts:

Consider, and call for the mourning women to come; send for the skilled women to come. Let them quickly raise a dirge over us, so that our eyes may run down with tears, and our eyelids flow with water (Jer 9:17-18).

These women were specifically skilled in the art of mourning. They were summoned for funerals or times of lament, when the community needed help processing their grief. God even calls all women to train in this art form: 

Hear, O women, the word of the Lord, teach to your daughters a dirge, and each to her neighbor a lament (Jer 9:20).

Learning the art of lament was a taught skill in ancient Israel. And, it was the women who passed down this instruction to their daughters. The Old Testament scholar L. Juliana M. Claassens acknowledges that these women not only created space, but also helped the people to speak out about their grief. “The wailing women’s laments and tears created a space for the people to express their emotions…Trauma often leaves people numb and confused, unable to express their emotions. The wailing women’s tears helped the people to break through the silence toward a basic, raw vocalization of their grief” (p. 27). These women were able to bear witness with the people the raw and unbridled nature of grief. Their tears and their songs were meant to elicit a response, which enabled the people to break out of whatever was holding their grief inside. They taught the people how to make space for grief to unfold and possibly resolve at some point.

How can we make space for grief? This is a process and one that is highly individualized. What works for one person, may not work for another. For me, moving through unprocessed grief often looks like this: 

1. I notice something is off. Typically, this manifests with anxious thoughts and ruminations, and oftentimes some physical signs of anxiety.
2. Make space: If I am journaling daily, then I usually notice the grief before anxiety takes hold. Writing is therapeutic for me, so pen to paper is a proven way to process grief. For others, talking to someone or going for a run/hike might be more helpful.
3. Compassionate self-talk: I have found that beating myself up for feeling unresolved grief is not helpful. Compassionate self-talk aids in the grief recovery process more effectively. Dr. Kristen Neff’s work on compassion is insightful and practical.
4. Begin to feel unstuck and more hopeful: this is when I know that I am moving through the grief. I become more optimistic and less fixated on the loss.

Have you found strategies that work for your own grief recovery process? I have found that I must muddle through the grief in order to start moving forward. Unfortunately, It is all too easy to remain submerged in grief or refuse to acknowledge its existence. Anytime something ends there will need to be some space for grief, even if it is a favorite holiday or a degree completion. I have found that it takes so much more energy to suppress grief than to identify coping skills that can help with working through it. Perhaps, try paying more attention to your body and the its signals. In this way, you will be making space for grief.

                                                                  by, Jennifer Metten Pantoja