Embodying Your Grief

by Stacey Rupolo


This time of year, my thoughts often turn to death. The shortened days, dark nights, spooky celebrations, and autumn’s natural decay all contribute to a general gloominess, but for me it is a little more personal. Halloween is my brother’s birthday and he would have turned 43 this year. He died on my 18th birthday and, for a few years now, I have been older than he ever was when he was alive.

World events also have my mind turning over what it means to lose, people, places, ideas, assumptions about the world. Witnessing the Palestinian genocide following the deaths of more than one thousand Israelis means contemplating loss on a scale that is overwhelming for my nervous system. It opens up wounds and introduces new layers to the patina of grief I’ve accumulated over the years.

There’s a lot I could say, and want to say, around the topic of grieving and healing from traumatic loss. I’ve been on this journey for over 13 years. But I’m going to try to keep this particular collection of thoughts focused on what grief is and how people in mourning can process it. 

An interlude on grief theory

Grief is our natural response to loss. I liken it to a severed bond of love that reverberates throughout our body. Living through loss means confronting the crushed dreams of an imagined future. It also comes with the painful marking of a before and an after. After my brother died, it felt like I was walking around with an invisible hole in my abdomen; something that was so glaringly obvious to me, but imperceptible to others. Grief waxes and wanes, but what makes it a hard process is that the reverberation or gaping hole never really goes away.

Folks often cite Kubler-Ross’s seminal work On Death and Dying when talking about grief. It has become a super popular framework for consoling and comforting mourners. While this model might hold relevance for some, it actually came from and was theorized for people who are actively dying, not the ones they leave behind. The sequence of anger, denial, bargaining, depression, and acceptance can provide an illusion of control during an otherwise senseless time , but it’s not exactly the road map that mourners need.  Rather than thinking of grief as concrete stages, it can be helpful to view the pain and sorrow that accompany grief as coming in cycles, waves or seasons. 

The difference is subtle but important because there is not one correct or biologically imperative way to grieve. Some people need to talk, some people need to cry, others need to be left alone in silence, while even more will need to be held tight. One person might seek therapy while another will take up woodworking. If your grieving process doesn’t match someone else’s, that is okay. 

While grief is normal, sometimes we can get stuck in what is known as complicated grief. This is a prolonged state of agitation with no resolution or integration of the loss. It can occur when there are multiple losses during a period of crisis, the loss of a conflictual relationship, or around disenfranchised grief. When we are cut off from community and not heard in our pain, this can lead to what is called disenfranchised grief. We do this systemically with pet loss, environmental degradation, end of careers, loss of ability, movement through life stages, and other less prioritized forms of grief that are not seen as validly distressing enough to warrant compassion.

The loss of loved ones can also be a source of trauma. This does not mean we need to pathologize all grief, but rather, recognize when grief may have activated something deeper and more complicated, such as clinical levels of depression and anxiety, attachment wounds, chronic stress, or post-traumatic stress disorder. Feelings of suicidality or wanting to harm yourself after a loss are sure signs that you should seek out the help of a mental health professional.

Systemic Issues Impacting How we Mourn

We live in a rather death-phobic society in America, partly fueled by capitalism (which demands we never slow down or rest), ageism (which demands we never visibly grow old), and colonized ideals of beauty (which are, in turn fueled, by white supremacy, capitalism, and ageism) [for more on this, visit The Unpublishable]. Mourning is bad for consumption and productivity, it demands we slow down, rest, reconnect with our communities, and reprioritize things that might take us away from the daily grind. Also, many of us outside of healing, medical, hospice, or funeral professions are cut off from the natural processes that happen at the end of life and from confronting lifeless bodies. (For more on this, read the work of Caitlin Doughty, founder of The Order of the Good Death). 

I’ve often encountered this discomfort with death and the grief it causes. After the funeral is over and a few weeks pass, your distress becomes a source of discomfort for those on the outside concentric rings of your life. The emotionality, sadness, and disruption that grief brings can leave people around you feeling uncomfortable and helpless. Suddenly, you’re a problem that they have to fix. I’ve also witnessed death and the emotions surrounding it being cast as something impolite or rude to talk about. With this avoidance and discomfort, social support for those in mourning can disintegrate. Our urge to comfort and soothe can get interrupted by perfectionism or anxiety about not doing it “right.” This can make processing the loss of loved ones hard and lead to isolation and loneliness after loss. My gentle advice is: show up for people who are grieving, don’t just offer support limply. Ask what you can do for them and also take initiative to support their physical, emotional, and spiritual needs.

Processing Grief

So what do we do with all of this heaviness and weariness in our spirits and our bodies? To start, let’s name common experiences and symptoms that can occur while grieving: 

Behavioral

Crying easily and often

Attempting to stay overly busy or distracted

Not being able to focus or complete tasks

Low motivation & loss of interest in activities and daily life

Emotional

Feeling empty, hopeless, or lost

Anger at the world or people around you

Emotional volatility (experiencing an unusually wide range of emotions or rapidly moving from emotional regulation to emotional dysregulation)

Emotional numbness (feeling flat or dulled emotions)

Depressed mood

Heightened sense of anxiety

Rumination, cyclical thoughts

Physical

Changes in appetite

Fatigue

Sleep disruptions 

Racing heart, tightness in your chest, upset stomach, and other somatic expressions of distress

Dissociation (a sense of separation from your body or reality)

Relational

Wanting to be alone

Wanting to spend more time with people

The emergence of anxious attachment styles

Increased worry about those you love

Needing more attention and validation

Needing to talk about the deceased or hear stories told about them


Wow, that’s a lot of disruption to our nervous systems, relationships, communities, routines, thoughts, and feelings. How does one mourn properly with all those symptoms and when we also have jobs, lives, families, responsibilities to balance? How do we live in the “after” created by the death of a loved one or complicated loss? Just as there isn’t one correct way to grieve, there isn’t one correct way to process and heal either, but here are some ideas for moving through your grief journey.

Somatic exercises: Our nervous system extends into our entire body and grief is a very active physical process. Taking care of your body with rest, water, food, hygiene, movement, and physical touch are all very important during this time. Try locating where the loss lives in your body (for me it was the center of my torso, around my stomach). Can you try to visualize and welcome this feeling? What does it feel like to befriend and sit with it? When the crying starts to feel overwhelming, try breathing exercises (extending your exhale to be longer than your inhale signals safety and calm to your nervous system; square breathing of 4 counts in-hold 4-out for 4-hold 4 can also be effective). Screaming, rage rooms, throwing ice, or scribbling with a pen on paper can also be effective ways to dispel somatic distress.

Grief containment and compartmentalization: Use the guiding question: what’s the right dose of grief for me? This can look like a time based, location based, or a relationship based answer. Finding a container for your grief in writing, visualization, conversation with a specific person (friend, therapist, family member), movement, or activity is also good here. The key is to both engage with it in a way that feels relieving and healthy for you and then to learn to disengage effectively so you don’t become overwhelmed. This practice  will change over time, depending on the time of year, occurrence of anniversary dates, your personal circumstances, and even current events. 


The role of distraction: Distraction can be an asset when used wisely. Aim for a balance of  engagement with daily life without completely burying your grief in compulsive workaholism or toxic positivity (there need be no shame here, we are socially rewarded for this behavior from a young age in many ways). But distraction is a tool that is best used in moderation. Playing video games, reading, watching a movie, hanging out with friends and family, going on a drive, taking a leisurely walk, or cooking can all provide soothing distraction during this time.

Connection: Find a safe harbor in the storm of your grief and talk to people about the person or people you lost. Tell stories about them, say their name, share the impact they had on you. Importantly, this might not be something  you get to share with everyone in your life. It’s okay to be selective about who gets to hear your story. Not everyone can hold the space needed for grief. (Maybe these people are part of  your distraction plan instead of providing a grief container!) Grief support groups are also great sources of connection and containment. A great place to start with this would be The Dinner Party, a free online resource for mourners aged 20-30 years old. Therapy practices, university health centers, and other community organizations often also offer these types of groups.

I fully believe that we carry the love of our lost ones with us. It can be hard, though, when we are wrecked by their passing, to remember what it feels like. Hopefully this love meditation can help you embody that love when you need it most.

Raise your hand and place it on your heart. Close your eyes.

Think about the people who have loved you over the years. 

The people who have been there for you during difficult times, who have supported you without judging you, who have stood by your side even when it was hard.

Think about the people who have celebrated your greatest joys with you as well as your greatest upsets., who derived so much pleasure at seeing you happy. 

Feel their love flowing through you lifting you up brightening your mood and lightening your heart.

This love is always with you, even when these people are not physically there. You are a manifestation of generations of love. You are and always will be worthy of that love, it came to you through time and you will carry it with you always, even when you forget.

When everything feels like it is going wrong

by Finlay Sarafa McHale, MSW


Taking care of ourselves can be difficult. Sometimes, the struggle is with interoception and our own lack of awareness of what is going on within our bodies. Sometimes, it’s the constant grating drive of the late-stage capitalist hell trying to machine us into ever smaller pieces of ourselves. Sometimes, it’s the horrors.

Many of us are struggling to engage in the very basics of self-preservation right now: food, sleep, hygiene. At a time when Palestinians in Gaza lack the means to be able to slow down and engage in “self care”, it can feel meaningless to focus on ourselves.

I am writing now about “self-preservation”, the acts that keep us alive and hopefully moving forward, but are much more focused on what we need to do rather than what we want. As an Arab person with my own very recent and long cultural experience of genocide, I find every day of the genocide and occupation of Palestine unpleasant, but the current events in Gaza is horrific. Each glance away from my phone screen is a fight.

My own experiences with genocide have given me unfortunate practice at getting myself through each day while I watch my kin die through a screen. As a result, I have some strategies that help me, which I hope will help others.

  1. Ritualize your self-preservation tasks

Most recently, I did this because I could not remember the last time I had washed my hair. For me as a disabled trans SWANA person, my hair is a big part of my identity but washing, drying, and styling it can be and emotionally and physically involved process. On our way home from a vigil, I remarked to my partner that my hair was straight from how weighed down it was. My partner told me she wanted to do a druidic grief/mourning ritual involving a bath with herbs the next day and suggested I wash my hair after that, which I ended up doing. Ritualizing our tasks can help us overcome the inertia that makes it so difficult and can help it feel relevant to our emotions.

2. Lean into community

For me, this looks like talking to my loved ones, cuddling with my cats, engaging with my culture, and self-reflection. I make food from my culture, listen to our music, read our poetry, write my own, etc. This allows me to draw from a well of strength and resilience beyond myself and feel held by my ancestors’ wisdom. Even if the community and/or culture you are leaning into is within yourself, it is so important to do this. I strongly believe we heal in community, that it is impossible to heal fully in isolation. Even if your community is one other person, that is enough.

3. Participate in Palestinian culture

Genocide is not just the attempted or achieved killing of a group of people; it is the erasure of their cultural existence from the face of the earth. One of the best ways to fight genocide is to help keep the culture alive. Ways you can do this include eating at Palestinian restaurant and/or cooking Palestinian food at home, reading books by Palestinian authors, viewing Palestinian art and movies, listening to Palestinian music, etc. If you are struggling to eat, Palestinian food is a great way to try to meet that need. 

For me, this engagement is a way of not only fighting the genocidal erasure of Palestine, but also a way for me to connect with and honor the living and the dead. (Caveat: make sure you are appreciating, not appropriating.)

There is no one right way to preserve ourselves while seeing and living through such horrors. These are only a few suggestions that work for me, that help keep me healthy and from feeling guilty about my access to resources. If you would benefit from working with a therapist, healer, or support group, please follow these links. There is no shame in needing extra support when life seems bleak.

The settler colonies at the center of this—the so-called “United States” and “Israel” police their media to show only what make dissenters feel helpless. We are not being shown the massive global movement in favor of Palestine’s freedom, we are not being shown the large amount of people raised as zionists who learned about the occupation and became pro-Palestine, we are not being shown any good ever experienced in the SWANA region. We are powerful, and our self-preservation can help us access that power. If spite against colonizers is what helps to take care of ourselves, that can be enough. This is a long fight, and we need everyone.