Grief has never been a straight path for me. Lauren Breen, one of Australia’s leading grief researchers, says grief is not tidy or predictable… and I have found that to be so true. It’s uneven… it’s personal… and it changes from day to day.

When I go hiking with my kids, I notice how they bound up and down the trail with steadiness and confidence… while I’m much more cautious. I focus on every step, watching the terrain carefully, because the last thing I want to do is trip and fall. Each time I think to myself, I need to get better at balance.

And if I’m honest, I sometimes judge myself in those moments… I don’t want to look awkward or stumble in front of my kids. I don’t want to embarrass myself or ruin the trip. So I keep my head down and focus, sometimes more concerned with the possibility of messing things up and causing disruption on our hike, than enjoying the hike. Yeesh… I know my kids would be so annoyed if they knew that, they are just so happy I am out there with them.

I think we do the same thing in grief. We judge our own walk. We keep our heads down. We don’t want to look “too sad” or “too much.” We don’t want to keep talking about our loss because it feels like we might be annoying to others. Don’t you find that fascinating?

In the early days after losing Lew, that judgment was loud in my head. I didn’t just carry the pain of sleepless nights, financial decisions, and the loss of friendships… I also carried the weight of how I thought I was supposed to look in my grief. Quiet. Put together. Manageable. And yet inside, I was anything but.

What I’ve been learning…. even now, a year and seven months later…. is that I don’t want to hide my grief. I also don’t want to overwhelm strangers with my story.

But there is a middle ground… a place where when someone asks, and it’s safe, I can share without judgment. I can let them see the uneven terrain I am walking. And in that sharing, I don’t lose my balance… I actually find it. I do think that is why Grief and Me was created. It seems like the perfect place to share the uneven terrain we are walking without anyone being like… “You already told us” kind of thought. No… WE share what is on our hearts without judging ourselves and allowing the pain to be right where it is.

My husband used to talk about proprioception, the body’s ability to sense where it is and keep balance. I realize now that’s what grief has been teaching me all along. To learn my own walk. To steady myself on ground that still feels uneven. To know that sometimes I’ll stumble, and that’s ok.

The terrain is still rocky. Loneliness still sneaks up. Financial burdens are still mine to carry. Some friendships have not returned. And yet… I keep walking. Not perfectly. But steadily.

So I ask this question of you:

Where am I judging my own walk in grief, and how can I instead honor the step I am taking today?

Blessings my friends,
Gina~