Acting on the Loss Stage

Last week, I formally announced my blog to various friends and family members.  And while I felt excited and happy in anticipation of doing so, once the “Send” button was pressed on the email, I also felt a sense of loss.  Sadness.  Fear.
Then it occurred to me that what I really felt was vulnerable.  Oh sure, I could reasonably count on most people on the distribution list to offer at least some polite acknowledgment, but what if someone didn’t?  What did that mean?  And even if they said something nice, but didn’t choose to “subscribe” to the blog, well, didn’t that speak for itself?  This undertaking and how it was received seemed so important to me, and here I was putting myself out there with good odds, but no guarantees.

And isn’t that exactly what it feels like when we are getting through a loss?  A death, a divorce, a job loss, a perceived “failure” of any kind – it seems incredibly frightening after one occurs to go out there each day and face others, even those who we normally perceive to be on our side. And this fear only adds to our grief, increasing the chances that the experience feels just too overwhelming to bear.

In my years of practice, I have noticed a few commonalities amongst us.  One of them is that we are much harder on ourselves than we are on anyone else.  We hold ourselves to a ridiculously high standard.  When clients tell me they feel bad about something they did and what others thought about it, I always turn the tables and say “What if a friend of yours did the same thing?  What would you think?”  And almost always people say well of course they’d understand, even feel empathy with that person’s miscue, especially if they attempted to right it in some way.  So why then do we feel like we have to be a “tough guy” when it comes to acknowledging our struggles in life?

Sometimes we are just afraid of the possibility of loss, or of the ancillary losses we face in conjunction with a real loss.  If my husband dies, will his friends forget all about me?  If I leave a job, will those coworkers who felt like family knit together and quickly close the hole my absence initially creates?  I feel all alone, and “they” seem to have each other.   You realize you’re not sure what to do to maintain equilibrium.  This week’s revelation?  They’re not sure either.

Loss has a tendency to make us feel isolated, at a time when we least want to be.  We feel raw and exposed.  Everything we thought we knew to be true comes under question.   Yet I can almost guarantee pretty much everybody knows what it’s like to lose something.  So why can it be so difficult to connect over this universal experience?  To be honest and open about the fear and pain we feel?  To accept those thoughts and feelings from others?  And what distinguishes those who can from those who can’t?
You may notice that in these first few blogs, I’m throwing out a lot of questions without really providing any answers.  Some of you, especially my millennials who expect instant gratification from everything or, more seriously, those of you who are currently in a difficult place and anxious to get relief, may find this frustrating.  But as a therapist, I believe that understanding the problem is a necessity for getting to the solution.  So bear with me as we try to loosen up the dirt as to what loss is and why it feels like it does before we start considering how to deal with it.  We’re almost there.

Until next time……