Surviving Grief One Breath at a Time

'A Storm off the Normandy Coast' by Eugène Isabey, ca. 1850s

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How do you cope with the death of someone you can’t live without?

Honestly?

You don’t.

Life feels impossible.

Unbearable.

You feel like the pain is going to kill you.

Actually going to kill you.

It is impossible, right this second.

So you take it one day, one hour, one minute at a time.

Somehow, you find a way to keep breathing each day.

You must find a reason to keep breathing — whether it’s another person or animal or plant or fish.

Find a reason — something that depends on your survival.

Talk to them.

Ask for signs.

The signs help.

Sleep when you can, and when you can’t just remind yourself —

“I’m awake when I’m awake, I’ll sleep when I sleep.” 

It’s just the way of things, for now.

Eat one piece of fruit a day.

Have a bottle of water/fluid (preferably with electrolytes) next to you at all times.

Eat whatever you want - but eat something.

Shower only when you have to (or want to) and ignore your normal expectations.

Or what others may or may not think and say.

But remember that warmth is good. Use hot showers as a go-to when you need to calm yourself.

Go outside and move as much as you can.

Listen to music if you can face it.

If not, put classical on anyway.

Something that fills both the engulfing silence and the constant noise in your mind.

Cry. Cry. Cry.

Then scream.

Then feel crazy.

Then go numb.

Then wonder if you’re losing your mind.

Then start crying again.

(Pattern can be repeated per minute, hour, day, or week.)

Expect the unexpected.

When you have a good day, don’t kid yourself — it’s coming back, probably with a vengeance.

It always comes back.

And when it does, just let it take you.

Trust that you won’t drown.

Find one person you can trust and lean on.

If you can’t find one person, find an experienced and grief trained therapist, not to “get over” your grief, but to have someone who can see the ugly parts of it, the parts nobody else wants to look at.

Make this person your anchor.

Write your heart out.

Sing loudly and badly in the car with the windows down and the music blaring.

Dance if you can (close your eyes and just follow the music. I know, I know - just trust).

And try to keep faith that they haven’t really left you.

As I said - signs, signs, signs.

And when you’ve done all that,

over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and

and over again…

you’ll look at the calendar,

and you’ll realise,

that you have been coping.

One breath at a time.