On Grief…
Being a therapist is a funny thing. The more sh*t life throws at you, and you begin to move through, the more equipped you begin to feel at your job. The more genuine reliability you have with your clients. It’s a strange paradox that can be difficult to digest at times, but also one that helps create some strange sense of purpose through turbulent times.
The experience of grief- especially grief resulting from accidents in the outdoors - is one that up until now I have deeply acknowledged, but often shied away from in my own therapy practice, choosing to focus on injury because, well, there is possibility for recovery. Possibilities for a new way of life, of new perspectives, new goals, new outlooks, a path forward. My own fears of the finality of death meant I did not feel I could give what I needed to authentically help others walk the path of grief. On the one hand, I did not feel like I had the deeply personal lived experience to relate to this experience of shocking and traumatic loss; on the other hand, I was afraid of my own anxiety and anticipatory grief being triggered. If this could happen to them, then it could happen to me, my friends, my family…
Well, here we are. The worst has happened. Here we are, still walking, still existing on the other side. Just over a month ago, my cousin passed away after a whitewater kayaking accident. She was so incredibly loved. Her death has sent shockwaves through so many lives. While the degree of these shockwaves to our everyday existence may vary depending on the place she held for each of us, we all feel the same devastating pain of a beloved life lost too soon.
Kitty and I were the same age, and incredibly close growing up. I think her sense of adventure, care for others, and sense of fun influenced me and my decisions more than I may previously have acknowledged. Although we have lived far away from each other, I have felt a thread, no - a very thick rope - of connection to her throughout my life. I had this sense of inevitability that we would always be in each other’s lives, and not just because of the built-in family ties. Though we live on different continents, we are driven by the same values, sense of adventure, creativity, fun, and love for the outdoors and those with we share it with. I do regret now, that I took that sense of inevitability for granted.
Kayaking was Kitty’s everything. It gave her so much, but ultimately took it all too. How do we grapple with that? I am still figuring it out, while at the same time knowing there will never be an answer. These are the questions so many of us face who actively choose to participate in these sports. We know there are risks, but those risks are worth taking. In fact, those risks are what make life worth living and help us create such beautiful and close bonds with those with whom we share them. Sometimes those risks just show up to remind us how real they are.
All this to say, that I don’t really know what to say. Is it appropriate for me to share this, as a therapist - this deeply personally experience of loss? Is this appropriate write about on the internet, a place of connection but also of turmoil? I’m not sure, but writing helps, purpose helps, and connection helps. I am here on this grief journey too - our family, and all of her friends, we are all working through it. And I hope that, eventually, I can play a part in helping others work through it too.