Tragedy is inevitable. And grief is hard.
We're incredibly good at coping. Without consciously realising it, we achieve extraordinary feats when faced with catastrophe. As the world gradually destroys our innocence, we develop all manner of coping mechanisms, defensive strategies and hardening techniques to survive, navigate and take our place in the mayhem.
And yet there's a heavy price to pay, spiritually. Because as we cope, we bury. As we shield, we hide. And as we harden, we disconnect. If we're not extremely careful, we can forget ourselves altogether.
Events are often simply too much to deal with in real-time, so we find ways to feel safe and keep ourselves up on the surface. We push down. We push down hard. And it works. We survive. But we push a part of ourselves down in the process. The innocent part. The child part.
To protect ourselves, we bury ourselves. And then we lose ourselves. Until eventually we find ourselves numb. Disconnected. Unable to fully feel. Reaching for vices and emotional fixes.
We need to grieve.
Hard as it is, grief reconnects us. It challenges us to find our inner child again. And to hold that child, inwardly, until they finally feel safe enough to acknowledge the heartbreak and crack open within the warmth of our parental fold. It is the eruption of deep sadness that reconnects us with ourself. It's an act of profound love, courage and wisdom. It calls us truly into adulthood and facilitates our becoming.