Navigating Unexpected Grief

Learning to let go and embrace the next chapter

Hi I’m Jenny, your home yoga hype girl. Welcome to my weekly newsletter where I curate resources, offer inspiration, and give you the support you need to establish a meaningful personal yoga practice in the comfort of your own home.

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Showing up for yourself has never been easier.

Today, we embark on a new theme for March: Grief.

As spring approaches, it seems like an appropriate time to address any residual grief we are carrying after a long, dormant season. This month provides an opportunity to process our grief before we enter a period of renewal.

This week we are discussing:

• How grief shows up in both expected and unexpected ways

• Honoring grief and the process it wants to take us through

Our weekly “Put it into Practice” section features a variety of classes specifically designed to help with grief and mourning.

Let’s begin with a personal story of unexpected grief.

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"Bye!”

“I love You!”

“Have a Good Day!”

“Drive Safe!”

I call out as many well-wishes as I can before the front door closes, leaving me alone in an empty and unnaturally quiet house. My one and only child has just left for school. I stare at the door for a while, a lump slowly rising into my throat.

Until recently, I would’ve hustled out the door and jumped in the car with him for our daily commute to school. We’ve been making this thirty-minute drive together, twice a day, for the last ten years.

My son turned 16 three months ago. He got his license on his birthday and he’s been off and running ever since.

When I imagined what the next chapter of my life would look like, it was filled with possibility. I was going to embrace my newfound freedom, pursue my passion projects and capitalize on free time.

Untethered from my son’s hectic schedule, I was supposed to thrive and accomplish big, beautiful things.

That was the plan anyway.

What i’ve actually spent the past few months doing, is moping around my house and wandering through the world in a constant state of bewilderment.

I wasn’t prepared for the deep, destabilizing sense of loss that hit me, out of nowhere, like a freight train.

Expected vs. Unexpected Grief

I now realize that I’ve been experiencing unexpected grief.

To be fair, I did expect to feel the loss of quality time with my son. We always seemed to connect best in the car. We talked about life. We listened to podcasts and audio books together.

And we spent a lot of time in the car. I joked that I was my son’s chauffeur. It seemed like I was always driving that kid somewhere.

We live in a rural-ish area and traveled for sports and activities during the school year. It’s normal to drive two (or three or even four hours) for events.

We spent our summers exploring. My son was always dreaming up some crazy adventure - swimming in ice cold lakes, boogie boarding in the (even colder) ocean, combat fishing and befriending tourists in the river, riding our mountain bikes down single track trails, etc. etc.

We’d often break from whatever adventure we were on to sit on the tailgate of my truck and enjoy a picnic lunch together. We’d chat and look out at whatever scenery surrounded us.

My son and I were a unit. Where one went, the other followed.

I fully expected to miss that. I grieved that loss for months leading up to his sixteenth birthday. It felt a lot like losing my dad to a terminal illness the year before. I knew it was coming and I had time to prepare myself. I cherished the time I had left and I was ready to let go when the time came.

What I did not foresee, was the sudden and complete loss of purpose. I had no idea I derived so much of my self worth from being my kid’s mom.

It wasn’t just the driving. It was everything that went along with it. Meal planning, for example. I spent a lot of time shopping for, preparing and making sure my family sat down for dinner together. I packed school lunches, and kept healthy-ish snacks on hand at all times.

When my son got his license, many things changed abruptly and I felt uncertain about the value I added to our family. It felt like the solid ground I had been standing on, for sixteen years, fell away.

Cue: existential crisis.

What Lies Behind A Closed Door?

When one door closes, another one opens. Yes, but what many of us fail to consider is the space between the closing of one door and the opening of another.

This space feels different for everyone. Some experience it as purgatory, purification through suffering. Others liken it to limbo, a mundane time of waiting and wanting.

To me, it feels like an abyss. Free falling through time and space with no direction or indication that it will ever end.

Ultimately, it’s a transition that must be honored. It is grief and it is unavoidable.

Grief is not a keep-your-chin-up situation. It’s not something you can power through or fake it ‘till you make it.

Grief demands to be grappled with. It yearns to be felt and embraced. Grief is like a small child in need of attention. If you don’t meet it when it whispers, it will scream.

My grief nudged me, gently, for months. I spiraled and floundered my way through life, unwilling to acknowledge the true nature of my emotions. Finally, when it would be ignored no more, grief gave me a big, hearty shove.

It announced itself, in the form of a breakdown, as I was giving a short presentation to a group of my proffessional peers.

A startlingly humbling experience, it was exactly what I needed. Once that dam finally broke, I was flooded with the emotions I’d been trying so hard to fend off. I started talking about the grief I was feeling and I was finally able to process it.

It’s been a couple of weeks. I’ve been waking up with little glimmers of excitement for the day ahead. I'm feeling content and settling in to new ways of showing up for my son.

Because, as my husband sweetly explained during breakdown #2, my son still needs me more than I realize. There are still stinky socks to wash and the ever present, teenage hunger to satiate. There are also new things, like pulling trucks out of ditches and riding shot-gun on late night ice cream runs.

I finally feel ready to close this chapter of my son and I’s story. I’m prepared to move through the next door…whenever it opens.

Admittedly, if I was writing this by hand, the pages would be tear stained. Writing this for you has been a cathartic experience.

It’s all part of the process.

Put it into Practice

I’ve found some gentle, comforting practices for you to try this week. I chose them for their compassionate, healing energy. I felt safe to explore my grief within each and every one of them. I think you will too.

Yoga for Grief and Mourning | Gentle Supportive Yoga for Loss | Kendra Tolbert

22 Minutes | All Levels | Beginner Friendly

Yet another class that is going straight onto my playlist. I will be practicing this one regularly.

I practiced this class first thing in the morning and it was the perfect blend of gentle movements to get my body going for the day. Kendra’s delivery is compassionate and soothing. I would recommend this class for anyone trying to process major life changes or loss. It’s wonderful for any experience level, any time of day.

Yoga for honoring Sadness - 20 Min Somatic Release | Liezl Hoving Yoga

20 Minutes | All Levels | Beginner Friendly

I stumbled across this gentle gem in my research. It was my first encounter with somatic release and definitely won’t be my last.

I wasn’t sure what to expect, but I was absolutely delighted with my experience. I practiced on a day when I woke up feeling heavy. It helped me settle in with, and move through, the emotions that were weighing me down. I am looking forward to many replays with this class.

10 minute guided meditation and sound healing for grief | Bettina Rae

11 Minutes | All Levels | Beginner Friendly

I practiced a lot of different grief meditations this week. While they were all nice, none of them felt quite right. Then I found this one and I knew within thirty seconds I would be sharing it with you.

Bettina’s energy and delivery create a container of healing that feels both powerful and subtle. I felt held within her guidance and the sound healing helped me stay present with the difficult emotions I was trying to process.

This is a mediation that we can all return to again and again for solace and comfort in difficult times.

Final Thoughts

Life is full of little ups and downs, great upheavals and inevitable changes.

Through it all, we have the sanctuary of our practice.

May you find solace on your mat this week.

I’ll see you next Sunday.