#496 – What's your unprocessed grief trying to tell you?

The thing about grief is that it shows up unlabeled. You feel inexplicable fatigue, paralysis, or lack of excitement, yet you don't know where these come from.

You try to go on with your life as usual, but something's not working.

Then you hit a wall: the grief you don't want to feel is stuck in your heart like a thread of mango between your teeth. Unless you release it, you won't move on.

That's what I told my husband I'd discovered inside of me––and the resentment against those who "wronged" us.

Silent, he dipped a tortilla chip in guacamole, took a bite, and then turned his chair to face me, chewing.

"Focus on the present," he said. "In the present, our son's home, we're in good health, and we have all we need. Whatever happened before isn't here now."

Intellectually, I understood. But my body felt stuck.

I'd noticed earlier the instant when I'd chosen to continue down the rabbit hole of despair-scrolling through the job-seeking app. I could've surrendered the issue to the Universe as the only source of solutions, but didn't.

Writing about that instant this morning, I remembered a line heard in Underearners Anonymous meetings: "you're not in the results business; you're in the business of action/process."

Indeed, my desperation comes from my inability to control the outcomes. What, then, can I control?

The answer was clear: forgiveness. As A Course In Miracles says, forgiveness is my only function. Forgive myself and everyone else involved for the choices we made that led us here.

That's what my grief was telling me. Unless I forgive, I won't be free. I still don't know how to do it, but that's the intention I'm setting for the rest of my life.

What will change for you when you forgive everyone, including yourself?

Love,

Carolina