Navigating Grief: My Journey to Healing

Grief hits us all differently. No matter the cause or the depth. I personally believe grief hits our nervous systems. It tugs at our nerve strings. If we ignore that tug to care for ourselves, the consequences are far reaching.

In 2020, my condition and its associated unmanageable pain, coupled with stress, led me to my breaking point. What happened? I just read something. But that something broke my mind and then my heart. This experience resulted in my nervous system turning into a bit of a punk. In this post I share the story of my mental breakdown.

Before I get into it, make sure you are subscribed to my Instagram, Facebook and now X! You will want to stay tuned for the plans I have in the works for spring.

The bravest thing I ever did was rebuilding, when I DID NOT even want, to live.

-John Polo

My Story

My world stopped when I read those two lines. Time stood still or so it seemed until I looked at the clock and 6 hrs had passed.

It was like I had carefully and lovingly built this life. Like building a home. It was a beautiful glass home. I thought I’d finished completion on it recently. Everything was fitting together perfectly after such a long haul to the contrary. So many setbacks. But it was finally starting to making sense. I started to decorate my home.

And then I read those words.

I kept trying to reconfigure in my brain how this would still work and still fit. But it didn’t. What I was reading did not fit in my home. It was all or nothing. This piece of information was so contrary to the home it would not go inside. But it was my home. I just finished building it. It looked so perfect.

I had to decide what was more important. Those words despite the deep hurt they caused… or my beautiful new home. This life I had built. I was not in a position to take them both forward.

So it broke my brain.

My beautiful home started to implode. So many thoughts sent the pieces of glass flying at me. Slicing me in multiple places at once. The image was only that. An image. But the pain was real.

My eyes went dark and a terrible sound rushed into my ears. I standing in the path of a tornado. It went on and on.

This was the only way. Complete separation.

I lay in bed and counted down the hours…to nothing.

There was nothing left to do with my time. Every thought I had about getting up brought me back to the raging tornado.

So I closed my bedroom door and locked it. Shut off the lights and tucked every crack of light out with the blackout curtains. I liked it being so dark I couldn’t tell if my eyes were open or not. That’s when it was easiest not to think. Dead air.

And then when the thoughts broke through the darkness I drowned them out listening to piano music. Naming the notes and translating them from solfege to ABC took my conscious and subconscious brain. Anything to keep them busy.

Any thoughts related to the implosion ripped through me. I had to scribble them out on paper with a pen so hard I’d rip through every time. Even when I put the pen down, my thoughts made me mad at myself. I had to scribble them out in my head. I felt the pen rip through there too.

The days of lying in bed were spent going through the many parts of my life this will alter.

I was so confused. I didn’t know anything anymore. I didn’t trust myself. I decided I just needed to stay small and insignificant.  Sending shrapnel through my mind. The thought, what did I think I was doing? Sending shrapnel through my gut.

I had the Miss Saigon refrain in my own words. 🎵 No plans. No joy. No goals. No change.🎵

Stay small. Stay insignificant. Stay low. These thoughts felt more right. But going along with them felt more wrong.

Depression and nerve pain felt the same. The vibration that spread to my fingertips and through to the ends of my toes was uncomfortable exhausting.

It felt like a break up. But worse. I didn’t want to be reminded of the things that broke my brain. All of it. Stuff and books and papers and notebooks. It all had to be hidden away.

I didn’t even know what to eat. So I didn’t eat anything.

I was on the edge of a cliff. It would be so easy to fall. I’d already felt the crash. It took great force to stay on the cliff. Every thought that imploded another part of the house threatened my safety.

This disease was trying to hide in my brain and gut. A disease of shrapnel. If I coax it all out now, I will most definitely fall. But holding it in was also astonishingly painful.

I wanted to hide. I closed my eyes and put a blanket over my head and pushed my fingers into my eyes. Hiding from the pain of it all.

What am I fighting back for? For things to continue to swirl in a sea of chaos?

I kept checking. Do I have any foundation left in my home? Do I still know what I know and believe what I believe?

I am safe. I am loved.

That was all I could trust at that time.

Three days later I texted my mom. I need help. (Hubby was working out of town)

☝ That is what I wrote in my journal☝ . It was a few weeks later when I started to come out of it. What I read that caused the breakdown doesn’t matter. It was the straw that broke, not the camel’s back. But my brain and heart

There is a Time for Grief

I share this as a way of connecting. If you are experiencing grief I hope you have someone to text. I hope you can find your way to sit with it so you will, in time, let go.

Let go or be dragged.

-Anonymous

Over the River and Through the Woods

My way through the grief was nature. It started with grounding which led me to forest therapy.

These tools helped me retrain my nervous system. from choosing the chaos it was familiar with, to an unfamiliar peace. This initially felt awful. It took time but that balance shifted and eventually I felt peaceful being at peace. I found me again.

In nature I found healing from wounds I wasn’t ready to face any other way. They melted away into the sand and dirt through my bare feet. My nerves found shelter from the strain as I stood in the pouring rain. My doubts were carried away on the wind. The land was a teacher and I the student starving for learning. Joy slowly crept back into my life as I literally took time to smell the flowers. Hope was in my vocabulary once I took time to sit in the sun and feel it reviving me.

It took time. But I found me again. Me, with this new information. A better me. A me prepared to navigate the shifts still to come in my life.

She may be falling apart, but she’s been there before. She’ll take her time as she mourns the pieces she no longer needs and gather the rest of her, the best of her, and with a smile she’ll walk away.

-JM Storm

A Painful Truth

Developing chronic illness, pain, fatigue is devastating. We all stand in need of a time of mourning. A time to say goodbye to the life we’d planned. And then a step forward with care.

I try to take care of my nervous system. I hope I pay attention to those tugs of grief, or overwhelm, or anger. Now I know my emotions are messages my body is sending. I have learned how important it is to listen to them.

A big part of our nervous system healing involves teaching it that it is safe to feel negative emotions. It is safe to feel tired. It is safe to feel uncertain. afraid or incredibly sad. Just because something is unfamiliar doesn’t mean it’s bad. As my nervous system starts to trust me on that point, I am better equipped to face life. And to continue healing.

Loss is part of life and grief is part of love. I don’t want to let go of either.

Be at Peace

What brings you the most peace? Knowing this about yourself is key. Nature is awesomely soothing. Try it. You will be ready and willing to join me soon enough. Together, we can go deeper into our study of forest therapy when spring comes.

Remember, forest therapy is not only for grief but a host of human conditions. Such as the following. Forest therapy can:

• relieve stress and anxiety
• improve lung and heart health
• increase memory and focus
• improve sleep
• fight depression
• improve mood and energy
• boost immunity
• speed recovery from injury
• just to name a few!!!

There is something for all of us to heal from. The forest has an open invitation. I eagerly anticipate working together with you. I invite you to continue to learn and heal and grow with me as we face this beautiful life. Take care!