In the early days of losing my spouse, I remember many nights when I would wake up like clockwork every single hour overcome with a heaviness that seemed to permeate each bone in my body. My heart was beating too fast and a deep, disturbing fog had wrapped itself around my entire brain. I had my natural anxiety supplements and my Kindle Fire in the bed with me to use as a distraction during these moments but one thing I can recall typing into the browser on my Kindle was: what is the definition of grief? I mean, I knew on the surface what it was. I had experienced it already when my mother died abruptly in 2013. I never sought out support or researched the feeling, however. With the loss of my spouse in addition to my mother’s death, everything was compounded and packed within me on a level that made it difficult to breathe. It seemed more than just emotional. It was also physical. It made me wonder just how much there really was to grief.
But the definitions that I came across online were often unsatisfying. Almost every one was pretty standard to me – written in a way that summed it up rather than digging deep down for actual substance. To be totally fair, some of the definitions I looked at were literally from the dictionary. Dictionaries are not exactly there to cater to your emotions, so it shouldn’t be surprising to read something that is average, typical and just straight to the point. Grief or any mental health focused websites were better about descriptions but sometimes, even they, too, seemed a little too nice for the rawness that I was experiencing. So, this became one of my first writing exercises in my personal journal. Just for my own mental self care. I took the basic, common definitions that I came across and rewrote them. I made them fit exactly what I felt that grief really was.
I think what made this writing exercise feel good for me was first, its simplicity. There wasn’t anything
incredibly complicated about the task itself and there weren’t a lot of steps. Second, I think that there was something about the act of “correcting” something that didn’t feel right that made it soothing and satisfying. Which, when you think about it, is exactly what bothers us about loss in the first place. It doesn’t feel right. But there’s nothing you can do about it. Every cell in our bodies is screaming in protest. I couldn’t correct this awful thing that had happened in reality. But this simple therapeutic writing exercise had a way of making me feel like I had some measure of control over something that also didn’t feel right, even though it was much smaller in comparison.
So, here are some of the definitions I rewrote to satisfy the actual reality of grief that I was experiencing. Perhaps you’ll find one that fits your emotions as well. Or, even better, maybe you’ll find that you need to tweak it to suit you. I say, even better, because the moment you find you need to adjust it, is the moment it will show you exactly what is in your heart and soul. You will be able to define it. You will be able to voice that definition to others. And that’s how writing or art can be like medicine.
Grief Definition #1
a deep and poignant distress caused by or as if by bereavement.
This definition comes from the Merriam-Webster dictionary. The words “deep” and “poignant” are fairly descriptive. I can agree that grief is both of those things. But when I read the entire sentence in my head, the voice saying it is extremely robotic. I think it’s because the way it is written with the words “by or as if by”. Sounds too fancy, like a proclamation and somewhat cold. I picture a monotone recording reciting the word “grief” and its definition to me as if I might be preparing for a spelling bee and then going off to the next word.
Here is my definition:
A heart crushing sea of anguish that both engulfs you and makes you float aimlessly while surrounding you with sharks (otherwise known as triggers).
This is the feeling I had in the early stages of grief. Lost at sea. It was an overflow of hopelessness. With the original definition, I had to take the words “deep” and “poignant” to another level entirely to explain what I was feeling inside. The image that first came to mind when I thought of those words was an ocean. A vast blue-gray sea that threatened to swallow you completely. But that wasn’t the only threat. It was the knowledge that for a long time, possibly forever, you would also have the threat of the triggers. Smells, memories, thoughts, possibly unsupportive comments from people…those would always bring the sense of what was and what would never be. And you would never always know when they might strike.
Grief Definition #2
Mental pain, distress, or sorrow. In modern use in a more limited sense: deep or violent sorrow, caused by loss or trouble; a keen or bitter feeling…
This is actually from the Oxford English dictionary. The description of grief as a violent sorrow is what attracted me to it. It’s a little more satisfying in terms of accuracy because of the height of emotions that grief carries. Mental pain, distress and bitterness, those are also good words to describe it. But I had to take the term “violent sorrow” and elaborate it in order to define it to my liking.
My definition:
A searing, volcanic ache within the center of your soul where it is sometimes ignited by people, surroundings or memories and proceeds to boil over and burn through the very fabric of your existence.
This type of emotional grief did not hit me until I began approaching the first year out. This was when I began to realize that I didn’t care about holidays or socializing anymore. Everything was making me feel triggered and bitter. A volcano seems to be the opposite of my previous definition of grief, which was a sea of anguish. Here we have another emotion that occurs. Grief is not just sadness and sorrow. At times, it is anger and rage. Someone once told me that the word anger was when something feels wrong. And that the word rage ultimately meant loss of control. I never thought too hard on that then, but it comes to mind now because that’s exactly how grief can feel. Like something is wrong and there is no control.
This definition is probably the one that best fits me to this day. Even after all this time, I still feel this the most when it comes to grief. I control it more now and don’t break down in tears or anger in front of everyone anymore. I usually just retreat and get very quiet and force myself to breathe as much as possible.
Grief Definition #3
Grieving is the process of emotional and life adjustment you go through after a loss.
This reads like a dictionary definition, too, but actually, I found it on a health related website that just covers the basics on a little bit of everything. It is straight and to the point with a somewhat different angle. The previous definitions cover emotions only. This one brings up the another part of grief and loss, which is that period of time in which we try to figure out our “new normal”.
My definition:
A cold, jagged, endless mountain that one must climb with a mighty boulder chained to the ankle.
After the last definition, in which I compared myself to a volcano, this one would be the second in line. Yes, I am still doing this one and I have no idea if I will ever feel like I’m not on that mountain of adjustment. Actually, I would say that while I still feel like I’m climbing the mountain, the jaggedness, while still present, is not quite as pronounced as it used to be. So, I can offer that little bit of insight into this journey.
When I described this process of adjustment to a mountain and the boulder, it reminded of the Greek myth of Sisyphus. I may talk about this further in a future post but for right now, I’ll just give you the basics so I don’t bore you too much. Sisyphus was a cunning man who cheated Death. He tied Hades up so no one could die. This worked for a while until the other gods set Hades free. To punish Sisyphus, he was banished to this section of the Underworld called Tartarus where he had to forever push a boulder up a mountain. Just when he was almost at the top of the mountain, the boulder would roll back down to the bottom, taking him with it. And he was required to do it again. Endlessly. For all eternity.
If you ask me, Sisyphus, in some ways, represents grief. He’s cursed to relive it over and over because of Hades (death). But the other gods, the ones who have immortality, represent the part of the world that has no understanding of grief because they haven’t experienced it. Maybe Sisyphus wanted to be like them – you know, untouched by loss.
Grief Definition #4
very great sadness, esp. at the death of someone:
This one just sums up the truth of the matter and is a little more specific on what kind of loss can cause this emotion.
My definition:
A lifeless swamp of gray quicksand that threatens, at any moment, to suck every drop of one’s spirit directly to the gloomy bottom.
Did anyone happen to think of the movie, The Neverending Story? It was one of my favorites as a child. But one thing I recall was that I always had to skip over the part where Atreyu loses his horse, Artax, in the deadly Swamps of Sadness. It was a barren wasteland of gray mud that acted like quicksand if you became sad or depressed. I couldn’t watch it as a child even when I hadn’t had significant loss yet. So, it’s even worse now because I have a level of understanding that I didn’t have before.
Grief Definition #5
Grief is the natural reaction to loss.
This is the definition that I see the most. I see it in the dictionary, I see it on mental health websites, I see it on the Mayo Clinic, the American Psychological Association – I see it written more or less in this form almost everywhere. Some sites explain that reaction further but overall, it’s just what happens when we lose someone or something that inexplicably changes our lives. Usually in a devastating manner related to death.
My definition:
Grief is the shadowy entrapment that occurs when the star that was a loved one collapses. At times it is so strong, there is no light, no time, and no escape.
I wanted to define that “natural reaction” part because whenever I read it, I was always left wanting to know a lot more about that. And the best way I could think of to describe it was a black hole. I like to watch documentaries on the workings of the universe. So, from what I remember, a black hole is a collapsed star, which can describe the loss of a loved one very well. And once ensnared in a black hole, there is no escape. The gravity is so intense and concentrated that nothing else can be there. It’s an empty space. Time doesn’t exist. Light can’t be seen because black holes eat light. Because of this lack of light, no one can see black holes. They are invisible. Which sounds a lot like grief to me. It’s there but you can’t physically see it. You can only observe it through the reactions you have based on your surroundings.
So, now it’s your turn. If you’d like to redefine something that is causing you grief, just find some paper or use your computer or phone. It’s a good way to pinpoint your emotional state, whether it’s now or a past moment. You don’t even have to specifically use definitions the way I did here. Here are some other examples in which to do this writing exercise.
1. Maybe someone said something to you that wasn’t supportive for a grief moment that you had. Write down what they said, then rewrite what you would have preferred they said.
2. Maybe you saw a scene in a movie or a page in a book where grief was handled. Write down some key lines or actions that occurred that you would like to change then rewrite them to your satisfaction.
3. Song lyrics are often used to express grief or sadness. Rewrite one that didn’t quite fit in order to fit you.
Feel free to share your rewrite below in the comments! I’d love to read them and how this writing exercise helped you.