Things Lost.

itsadonis

“Grief is the garden of compassion. If you keep your heart open through everything, your pain can become your greatest ally in your life’s search for love and wisdom.” — Rumi

When we think about grief, the most common and likely association is with death, which is accurate and fair, as that is the deepest and most devastating type of grief in most instances because of how final it is, in the face of our helplessness. It is shattering.

But sometimes, grief comes in a different form, and though we tend not to recognise these forms as grief, they are more common than, say literal demise of a person. This form of grief is the death of hope: the loss of a future that will never happen.

It’s the career you poured yourself into that suddenly no longer makes sense.

The relationship you thought would last.

The version of you that you imagined becoming, that now feels out of reach.

The loss of safety and sense of possibility.

A betrayal that breaks your belief in someone.

This sort of grief is as real, as painful and as visceral as death. It leaves us with a deep ache of emptiness and confusion, a disorientation that comes with the void that you are left with. A void we have perhaps wrapped our identities around. It leaves us angry at things we couldn't control.

And worse, not recognising the loss as grief like the traditional grief, or even when we recognise it for what it is, not getting support the way people who have gone through a loss through death do. You are left to mourn an “invisible” grief with no condolences.

What I’m learning is that instead of shuttering these things and soldiering on, we need to allow ourselves to acknowledge the death of hope that it is. Do not try to rush past it. Being open and making room for new forms of hope

Hope would most likely return in a different form. A new one born out of resilience. And when it does, we carry with us stripes and a deeper understanding and appreciation for life and the person we become along the way.

Keep going,

Ije