Like many of you, I’m quarantined and although the beaches are now closed, I’m still able to take a walk. The energy in the air feels uncertain and often fearful. I find myself vacillating between sadness and anger and sometimes denial. These emotions feel familiar to me. And then it hits me—oh hello Grief, dear friend, I remember you.

I don’t think we ever forget our first encounter with grief. I remember Grief introducing itself to me at 13, when my Grandfather died. And although Grief continued to pay me short visits throughout my life, there was a time when it paid me a really long visit. In the span of three years, I experienced the loss of my Mom, my Grandma, my two cats Murphy and Josie, and my dear friend, Tim. The swarm of emotions that accompanied these losses were overwhelming to me and I quickly learned that our American society as well as the community around me was not equipped to speak about or handle grief. My unexpressed and un-held emotions got the best of me in the end. I spiraled down into depression as I numbed my feelings with alcohol and work. I struggled to find answers to my pain. I read Elizabeth Kübler-Ross’ book, “On Death and Dying.” During her work with the terminally ill, she identified five stages of the grieving process:  Denial, Anger, Depression, Bargaining, and Acceptance. She said we cycle through these stages in different orders at different times. I quickly identified that I wasn’t cycling through those stages. I was stuck in depression.  

Years and years went by and my depression slowly became greater. I put on a good face to the outside world, but inwardly I didn’t recognized myself anymore. I had lost my joy and my happiness.  

Finally, I found a therapist/healer who was able to hold my grief and be a witness to my pain. Because he had done healing of his own, my grief didn’t scare him. My tears didn’t scare him.  And my intense emotions didn’t scare him. Through his gentle compassion—I began to heal. And as I began to heal—I realized—because my grief was so great, that that grief triggered the deeper, unresolved wounds inside of me. My primal wounds that needed much healing. 

As I walk the streets today during this bizarre pandemic, I recognize how our collective primal wounds have been triggered. This collective grief we’re experiencing is massive. We’re grieving the world we once knew—life as we knew it. We’re grieving the loss of our jobs—or jobs the world has lost. We’re grieving our economy. Many are grieving their health and loved ones. We’ve lost what we felt kept us safe. This loss is exposing our deeper wounds as individuals, as communities, and as a world. It’s bringing up our deepest fears and leading us to face our darkest shadows. It’s not only triggering the shadows of this life—but of lives that came before us. And on top of that—we’re experiencing the anticipatory grief of what’s to come. The collective feeling of fear and grief is enormous—more than one person can hold.

When my past relationship with Grief brought up my buried primal wounds—it brought me to my knees. It humbled me. I could not escape it’s visit. I had no choice but to look deep within—to feel what I didn’t want to feel and surrender to a higher power. I got to know Grief intimately. I eventually learned that Grief was my friend. It was trying to lead me to the light. The light that was under all those emotions. And when I finally cycled through the stages of grief—I found grace and I found sweet, sweet relief. It led me to my greatest healing. When Grief’s visit was over—it left me some parting gifts. In it’s place were Happiness and Joy—friends I thought I had lost.

So, as Grief once again pays me a visit—I’m reminded to hold whatever feelings that come up with compassion. To make space for my feelings. To allow them to circulate in any order they want. To not judge them. To breathe with them. I’m reminded that what I feared most was feeling the depths of my feelings. I’m reminded not to get caught up in stories my mind likes to invent. I am reminded to stay present. To breathe. I’m reminded that when grief gets too big for me to hold—to surrender it to a higher power. I’m reminded that on the other side—is joy, happiness, healing and light.

And most of all—I am soberly reminded that this time—I am not alone.

There is a quote I love by Rumi:  “The wound is the place where the Light enters you.” 

This current collective grief and fear are potentially the biggest wounds all of us in the World can face. My hope and belief is together we can hold these wounds with compassion. We can allow ourselves to feel. That as a society—we can learn to face these uncomfortable emotions with grace. We can cycle through the stages of grief together and and heal as a collective. We can expose the shadow of the pain we’ve been living with. And we can come out the other side with joy, happiness and deep healing.  

And when we collectively heal these wounds—imagine—just imagine—the amount of light that will enter.