"Grief, apparently, is water-soluble." I love this. Thanks for sharing this deeply raw piece, Alexander. It's so resonant and I can't imagine anyone not learning deep fundamental truths. We always seem to be waiting for something. The new partner to feel better, the permission to speak our truth... but life keeps doing what it does. We sort ourselves out, not by waiting to be sorted, but by living each day from wherever we are and allowing experience to shape us.
Oh, Alex, this took me back and also keeps me in the now. "Back" is 15 years ago when my husband died and grief was deeper than I knew existed. Then came a day a few months in where I declared "Permission granted. To me, by me, for me." And it was my beginning to live again, with the loss, the grief, the overwhelm, the occasional sliver of joy, the healing that is never completely done, and the reshaping of my life. The "Now" is remembering that permission is mine to give myself every single day! Thank you again for your honesty and vulnerability, you are most gracious! ✨
"And if I could access that quality of presence in devastation, why couldn’t I access it in ordinary moments? In joy? In uncertainty? In the messy, unfinished middle of rebuilding a life?"
Yes. This. The very honesty that paves way for sorrow is the honesty that also paves way for joy.
Thank you for this terribly hopeful essay, Alex. 🙏
“Heal first then live” is like the classic voice of control. It’s that part that wants everything tidy and neat and together. Packaged, digital, and in the lines. I love this post because I’m such a fan of life outside the lines, the analogue, the messy, tear stains on the basement couch. That’s living. Messy and raw with pain and transformation. Thanks Alex 🙌
Oh, Alex, my friend. Another beautiful, heartfelt, honest, vulnerable piece from you today. This glimpse into your inner world is such a gift, truly. Thank you for that.
I want to say that what you wrote about grief is one of the truest things I've ever heard. We don't heal, then live. We live as we move through grief, through love, through both together.
I once wrote an essay (don't think I published it) entitled, "Once Grief Enters our Lives, it Never Goes Away."
I also wrote another called "Grief, the Unwanted Guest."
I like to think about grief as just one of many friends, or at least companions, walking with me in this life. I used to think it was going to harm me. Now I understand it wants to teach me something. And I began a grief journal about a week ago, recording daily "Today I grieve..." which has been incredibly insightful and powerful, because I am noticing that grief exists within almost everything I see, feel, think, hear, believe, understand, and experience. It's not this tragic heavy cloak. It's just present within the wonder, within the gratitude, within the joy, within the love.
Somehow the healing pathway for me looks a lot like integration--the coalescence of all ups and downs, shadows and light. All of it.
Oh wow, Alex! This is such a beautiful piece of work!! Amazing in so many ways. I was mesmerized the entire read! I can identify in many of the moments described -- and at the gut level. Thank you for pouring your heart out and turning it into art.
"We don't heal, then live. We live as we move through grief, through love, through both together."
This reminds me of when I was divorcing my wife. I was in therapy and learning all about feelings and grief and such. It was quite a humorous moment: I set aside one day to grieve. I intended to go through all 5 stages on that day. I had scheduled my grief so that I could go through the process and move on -- I could "live." Hahaha. Needless to say, the day didn't go as planned. LOL
I found that grief doesn't work that way. I laugh at myself now, and actually did then, too. I
"Life doesn’t pause while you heal." ABSOLUTELY, Alex. This is so beautiful and true and even, maybe, obvious. But how hard it is to embody! As someone on her own displacement journey and with an assignment to actually begin to define what "home" is, this piece really resonates. There's a lot of food for thought. I've definitely got some journaling to do now! <3
You're a master at writing something deeply personal that becomes powerfully universal. I am very acquainted with waves of grief that show up and require space to express. This touched me, Dr. Alex.
"Grief, apparently, is water-soluble." I love this. Thanks for sharing this deeply raw piece, Alexander. It's so resonant and I can't imagine anyone not learning deep fundamental truths. We always seem to be waiting for something. The new partner to feel better, the permission to speak our truth... but life keeps doing what it does. We sort ourselves out, not by waiting to be sorted, but by living each day from wherever we are and allowing experience to shape us.
Beautiful, Alex. 🙏💚
Oh, Alex, this took me back and also keeps me in the now. "Back" is 15 years ago when my husband died and grief was deeper than I knew existed. Then came a day a few months in where I declared "Permission granted. To me, by me, for me." And it was my beginning to live again, with the loss, the grief, the overwhelm, the occasional sliver of joy, the healing that is never completely done, and the reshaping of my life. The "Now" is remembering that permission is mine to give myself every single day! Thank you again for your honesty and vulnerability, you are most gracious! ✨
Believe I was supposed to read this, Thank you! 🙏
Very broken for a while now, layers and layers of so much has become overwhelming.
Sometimes it’s everything at once, like I need permission to fall apart and not be ashamed of all the pain, loss and grief.
"And if I could access that quality of presence in devastation, why couldn’t I access it in ordinary moments? In joy? In uncertainty? In the messy, unfinished middle of rebuilding a life?"
Yes. This. The very honesty that paves way for sorrow is the honesty that also paves way for joy.
Thank you for this terribly hopeful essay, Alex. 🙏
Alex, after Sheila died, I walked a tissue box of tears on that awful day.
It was the following day I realized I needed to stay present in my grief; allow myself to feel every messy feeling in the moment.
Giving myself permission to feel all the hurt, sadness, and pain opened a channel for love, laughter and happiness, too.
I cried every day for days, but that wasn't the only feeling.
It was a new way of dealing with grief for me.
I appreciate the rawness and beauty in your powerful essay.
“Heal first then live” is like the classic voice of control. It’s that part that wants everything tidy and neat and together. Packaged, digital, and in the lines. I love this post because I’m such a fan of life outside the lines, the analogue, the messy, tear stains on the basement couch. That’s living. Messy and raw with pain and transformation. Thanks Alex 🙌
Oh, Alex, my friend. Another beautiful, heartfelt, honest, vulnerable piece from you today. This glimpse into your inner world is such a gift, truly. Thank you for that.
I want to say that what you wrote about grief is one of the truest things I've ever heard. We don't heal, then live. We live as we move through grief, through love, through both together.
I once wrote an essay (don't think I published it) entitled, "Once Grief Enters our Lives, it Never Goes Away."
I also wrote another called "Grief, the Unwanted Guest."
I like to think about grief as just one of many friends, or at least companions, walking with me in this life. I used to think it was going to harm me. Now I understand it wants to teach me something. And I began a grief journal about a week ago, recording daily "Today I grieve..." which has been incredibly insightful and powerful, because I am noticing that grief exists within almost everything I see, feel, think, hear, believe, understand, and experience. It's not this tragic heavy cloak. It's just present within the wonder, within the gratitude, within the joy, within the love.
Somehow the healing pathway for me looks a lot like integration--the coalescence of all ups and downs, shadows and light. All of it.
Whew! I can’t stop reading! Your writing and honesty is addicting. Thanks for being human and sharing it.
Oh wow, Alex! This is such a beautiful piece of work!! Amazing in so many ways. I was mesmerized the entire read! I can identify in many of the moments described -- and at the gut level. Thank you for pouring your heart out and turning it into art.
"We don't heal, then live. We live as we move through grief, through love, through both together."
This reminds me of when I was divorcing my wife. I was in therapy and learning all about feelings and grief and such. It was quite a humorous moment: I set aside one day to grieve. I intended to go through all 5 stages on that day. I had scheduled my grief so that I could go through the process and move on -- I could "live." Hahaha. Needless to say, the day didn't go as planned. LOL
I found that grief doesn't work that way. I laugh at myself now, and actually did then, too. I
"Life doesn’t pause while you heal." ABSOLUTELY, Alex. This is so beautiful and true and even, maybe, obvious. But how hard it is to embody! As someone on her own displacement journey and with an assignment to actually begin to define what "home" is, this piece really resonates. There's a lot of food for thought. I've definitely got some journaling to do now! <3
Thanks for sharing all of this…it helped me today.
You're a master at writing something deeply personal that becomes powerfully universal. I am very acquainted with waves of grief that show up and require space to express. This touched me, Dr. Alex.