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25 Mar Seeing the Invisible

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When Grief is Invisible

Sometimes grief wears an ‘invisibility cloak’, like Harry Potter, and people don’t recognise it. We may need to look closely and ask the right questions in order to find out what is present but appears invisible.

My father had a talent for seeing negative-space. I remember a family holiday in Scotland with my cousins. On arriving at the rambling rented farmhouse, my Dad deduced an absence of internal space. By moving wardrobes unobserved, he found a hidden room. Then he designed a treasure hunt, which revealed the discovery of the secret room as its triumphant end point.

Noticing Absence

This noticing, of what is present but appears absent is particularly helpful when exploring emotional landscapes. I imagine putting on my ‘grief spectacles’ to help me see what might not be apparent to the casual observer.

Absences can be obvious if we pay attention to what or who is not in the room. We might ask, “Which feelings are welcome here?” or “Which demographics aren’t here?” Absences can also be hard to detect. It’s not easy to see what has been persistently absent, or what has never been invited in at all. My sense is that the narrower our experience of difference, the harder it may be to detect what has been normalised and what is not visible.

In the terrain of grief, absence can be a provocation for grief as the source of unmet needs. I am an attention seeker. I am usually happy to perform, to speak in public, to dress up. This comes in part from my own unmet childhood development needs. I was an only child with a bipolar mother. I experienced her lack of attention – as a result of her depression – as neglect. I longed for attention. Instead, we often shared ‘proximal separation’ as Gabor Maté describes a care-giver who is nearby but not able to give attuned presence.

Now I see this as grief, or longing for what wasn’t available. In Francis Weller’s framework, this touches both on ‘The places that did not receive love’, and ‘What I expected but did not receive’, (his second and fourth Gates of Grief).

When Grief Is Unwelcome

For those who are processing the death of a loved one, there is often a pervasive sense that talking about the experience of grief is not welcome – or only in limited ways for a limited time period. In this way, speaking about death is often relegated to private spaces with a caring professional. In addition, there is often an assumption that we can only express grief in ways that are deemed acceptable (rather than the wild waves that unpredictably surge with rage, loud sounds, responses like unexpected changes in sexual desire, and other intense emotions). The reality is that grief may feel unwelcome at best or totally taboo at worst. In this way, grief may become ‘disenfranchised’. As a result, your grief may be at least removed from others’ direct gaze, if not invisible.

Invisible Sources of Grief

So, imagine if the source of your emotional turbulence is not the most recognised and acceptable reason to grieve – the death of a loved one. If bereavement is not the source of your emotional roller-coaster, how does it feel if the very real and natural symptoms of grief that you are experiencing, don’t fit neatly into the ‘recently bereaved’ category? What does it feel like, for example, if you have had a miscarriage, and you didn’t announce your pregnancy, so no-one sees your loss?

Disenfranchised Grief

There are infinite reasons to grieve. Many do not include bereavement, (and if someone you love has died that is an excellent reason to grieve). Ken Doka helpfully coined the term ‘disenfranchised grief’ to describe an unrecognised or hidden source of heart-break or grief. Examples include:

The loss of someone you love, when their next of kin do not recognise the role you played in their life.
Separation from a lover where your relationship was not public.
Loss of your home and established life, when you are choosing new circumstances.
Grief as a result of involuntary childlessness.
The life choices you regret.
The life unlived when ageing or facing chronic ill health.
The loss of a meaningful attachment figure that is not externally recognised, (such as your therapist, favourite pop icon, pet hamster or the tree you loved watching through your window being cut down to make room for the neighbour’s extension).

Ambiguous Loss

‘Ambiguous Loss’ is another term which I find helpful, to describe the particular shape of unexplained absence. Pauline Boss first used this term to describe the grief felt when someone is missing either physically or emotionally. Examples include:

Someone is presumed dead but there is no body to mourn or explanation to give closure.
Someone has disappeared without giving notice or being in contact.
Not knowing why you were given up for adoption.
Being ghosted at the end of a relationship for unknown reasons.
A ‘misadventure’ that may or may not have been an accident.
Waiting for the outcome of a court trial.
Someone you love remains unresponsive but is still physically present.

Unacknowledged Grief

While every loss is worthy of grieving, it is not always possible to do so at the time of impact or injury. The processing of grief may need to wait until there is adequate space and holding to do so. Grief may be present but delayed thanks to our helpful defensive accommodations, which enable us to wait until it is safe enough to feel. Feelings may be exiled, completely out of awareness, or dissociated from until they are ‘touched and awakened’ (as Bonnie Badenoch says).

Sometimes the grieving parts of us, that are out of our awareness, are apparently invisible, but sensed through the symptoms or situations in which they are triggered. We may gradually become aware of the shape of absent parts of us. In extreme cases, this may be portrayed through Dissociative Identity Disorder, (described in Carolyn Spring’s book ‘Recovery is My Best Revenge’) where traumatised parts split off and become invisible until activated.

Including the Whole System

When thinking systemically, it is important to include all the parts of the whole system. There may be parts that are invisible or less easy to recognise. There may be parts within us that are concealed for self-protection, or to avoid risking more vulnerability than feels comfortable. We may judge ourselves, allowing our critical inner voices to keep us small and boxed in.

In families, communities and organisations, grief itself may be split off or excluded. Often there may be one or more family members who are carrying the unacknowledged grief unconsciously on behalf of others in the system. Working with a Family Constellations practitioner can be a really useful way to map a system in order to reveal dynamics which have been carried by people in the system without their knowing. Rose Jiggens describes this modality:

“Working this way opens up insights which could not be gained through talking alone. We get to sense, feel, see and know things that are otherwise unavailable.”

By teasing out what is in the energy field in a Constellation, it is possible to surface what has been hidden, return unwanted energetic gifts, resolve unconscious wounds and clear invisible dynamics. The ties that bind us frequently entangle us in systemic bonds as a consequence of grief and trauma. Constellations can be particularly helpful when we remain caught in repeating patterns and invisible directives that are organising the system but out of our awareness.

Seeing the Invisible

If I widen the frame to include all causes of grief – including bereavement and everything beyond that causes emotional suffering, and then put on my grief spectacles, what becomes visible? This lens makes it more likely to see individual pain, collective losses and cumulative hurts, and the intersecting relationships between them. Add in the lens of past impacts and future fears, to see a complex matrix of stimuli that cause grief.

To make the invisible visible requires listening to all of our feelings, the voices of others, seeking out the absent narratives and being curious about the experience of people who are different to ourselves, and may hold different perspectives.

Tending Grief

‘Grief becomes grievance’ when untended. When sorrow, or distress is left without adequate containment, or holding, so that it can be digested, a residue of the hurt remains. It is this legacy that may go on to cause further distress, whether to self or others. The old adage is activated, ‘hurt people hurt people.’

Grief Tending is a practice in which we welcome all kinds of grief, whether known or unknown. In order to include what is both visible and invisible in Grief Tending, we often pour water to acknowledge ‘what has been said’, and also include ‘what has been left unsaid’. When people express grief, there are often cumulative layers of undigested experience. It may only be possible to begin to move towards feelings or access the surface layer.

It requires work to see the invisible. Putting a wide frame in place, like the edge of a jigsaw puzzle, and filling in the things that we know allows the gaps, the unfamiliar, the unacknowledged and the untended pieces to reveal their shape. Each of these invisible places may need to be attended to. They may also help us to make sense of the whole picture.

Sarah Pletts is a Grief Tender and Artist who offers workshops in London and online, sharing rituals where grief on all themes is welcome. For more information about Grief Tending events see here.

11 Mar Working With Linking Objects For Grief

Posted at 19:27h in Sarah's Journal by admin 0 Comments

In many of our workshops (Online Support Circles, One Day Community Journey and Weekend Community Journey) we invite participants to bring linking objects. One or more object to represent something that is supportive, and one or more that helps people to connect with their grief. A linking object may help someone to connect to someone who has died, as part of a Continuing Bonds process (Klass, Silverman and Nickman). It may represent both support and grief of any kind.

In Grief Tending, we begin by encouraging people to focus on the things that support them. An object might be one kind of support alongside many other supportive practices and ideas. People bring all kinds of momentos to use. The object itself may be satisfying to touch, sitting snug in the palm of a hand, or perhaps on a chain around the neck, so that it can always be reached for. A familiar object can be a touchstone to reassure.

In addition to its physical presence, an object for support may have an association, a reminder of something significant, or be a keepsake of personal value. It may have been a gift, something from a significant location, a symbol of faith, luck, beauty or simply something that reminds us of someone.

Often something chosen to offer its supportive presence might also be linked with loss – a linking object. It might be a piece of jewellery gifted or inherited for example or the photograph of someone held dear who has become an ancestor.

One of the practices we may use in a workshop is Betty Martin’s ‘Waking the Hands’ from the ‘Wheel of Consent’. Our hands are sensory receptors, and exploring the touch of an object can be an excellent way to increase awareness, sensation and help us to activate our rest and digest system. This externally focussed touch can be a helpful way to bring attention into physical sensations and present moment awareness. ‘Waking the Hands’ can be explored as a regular practice to increase receptive sensitivity and as a cornerstone of embodied consent.

Many of the people I meet reveal touchstones that they keep in a pocket or close at hand for comfort and calming. In childhood, an object – mine was ‘the fluffy blanket’ – can become a stand-in when a care-giver is not available, in order for a child to manage anxiety. Throughout life during challenging times, a ‘transitional object’ might also become significant to help us to manage feelings.

Any of our senses may be involved as this particular object brings comforting sensations and allows us to keep in touch with someone who has died, for example. As a linking object, the smell of a longed for person may linger in their hair-brush, scarf or hand-bag. In Euphoria, the central character Rue Bennett continues to wear her father’s baggy burgundy hoodie as she grieves.

Linking objects chosen to help people to evoke grief may have a different emotional affect. They may represent more challenging experiences of connection with or disconnection from what has been loved and lost, an absence or active hurt. As with supportive keepsakes, the grief associated may be invisible to the casual observer. These objects may reveal intimate moments of distress, or bring forth the telling of a story.

At Grief Tending events, we invite people to use these objects to connect with feelings (if they choose to), during a ritual for the expression of emotions. Someone may titrate between grief and support objects to manage moving between resourcing and the expression of grief.

At home, having a special place to honour someone can be a helpful practice. It may be a small shrine or altar, or simply be somewhere that a linking object might be placed in remembrance. And it may be that a box of keepsakes to return to occasionally feels more manageable.

After someone has died it may take months or years to sort through their legacy of objects and clothes. I am still trying to figure out what to do with some of the things that have been left behind by ancestors. It takes the time it takes to process what remains, but choosing one or two objects can be a helpful way to maintain significant connections. I find my mother’s dental bridges particularly poignant, and my step-grandmother’s shoes seem to embody her movements as well as her style.

For some there may be an absence of objects, removed access or estrangement from them. In this instance it may feel helpful to choose something and imbue it with linking significance or memories that intuitively feel appropriate. This might be a creative opportunity to make something that signifies remembering someone. Other things, such as a plant, a time of year, a scent or piece of music may also link us with chosen memories.

However you choose to use them, whatever they are, objects can help us to connect in ways that support our grieving process. They may be used as part of home grief rituals or support us at a workshop, and they may help us to link to a sense of continuity with what has passed.

31 Jan What to Say to a Grieving Person?

Posted at 20:22h in Articles by admin 0 Comments

Being With Someone Who’s Grieving

I am a Grief Tender, and was recently asked “How do you learn to hold grief?” The practice of Grief Tending is all about becoming more comfortable with our own feelings, and also with others’ emotions. Although the question “What should I say to someone who’s grieving?” can be useful to explore, for me, it is more important to learn how to be with someone who’s grieving. This might include the pace and tone of voice, and body language, as well as words in order to offer supportive presence.

Learning How to Be With Someone Who’s Grieving

I am deliberately using the verb ‘to learn’. For many of us, we haven’t grown up with enough wise elders who could show us how to be with someone who’s grieving. The kind of relational intelligence it takes to know what to say to someone who’s in distress is not taught in schools. This is often now a skills gap in families and communities. It can be particularly difficult for young people to navigate talking to someone who is mourning if they have little or no experience of being around death or dying.

A Quiet Revolution in Grieving

There is something going on that is counter-cultural to the dominant norms of privacy around grieving. There is a quiet revolution that is happening in the culture of death and dying. People are discovering their agency around the theme. We are consuming books and films that illuminate the infinite ways to approach endings. We are talking about mortality at Death Cafés, that welcome conversations on the subject of death with tea and cake. People are engaging Death Doulas to support their choices at end of life. Groups like Companion Voices are singing with those who are approaching their end of life. People are choosing to design their own funerals – often with the support of an independent celebrant. The Dead Good Guide is a great place to look for inspiration for creative endings. And many are finding ways to process it all in community through grief rituals.

The Practice of Contemplating Change

It is essential if we are to support others who are grieving that we explore our own relationship with endings of all kinds. In Buddhism, there are explicit meditation practices to recognise that everything changes, and to contemplate ‘impermanence’ and suffering. In many indigenous and spiritual traditions, there are customs for ancestor veneration. Bringing those who came before us to mind, and perhaps giving thanks, or making an offering can develop a connection with someone who has died that we love. The Continuing Bonds theory of grieving (Dennis Klass, Phyllis Silverman, and Steven Nickman) emphasises how helpful and comforting it can be to evolve a continuing relationship with a loved one who has died in their new and unfamiliar form, rather than detaching from someone who has died. Some of the simple rituals we use in Grief Tending can be a helpful way to do this, such as lighting a candle and pouring water.

Other People’s Grief

Other people’s grief may remind us of our own. What has not been processed or tended in our own lives may be a wound that another’s grief touches. For many, there is an impulse to avoid, deny or minimise our own troubles. When someone else in our life grieves, our own feelings may be activated. Sometimes it was necessary to put our grief out of our awareness in the past as an act of self-preservation. When this has happened, it often re-surfaces later, if circumstances change and it feels safe enough to process. In order to support others, it is important that we are willing to recognise our own grief and allow it space and attention.

What Not to Do

Grievers often express dismay at the absence of acknowledgement from other people. There is often already a feeling of lack of belonging to normal life, and avoiding them amplifies this. Grief is not infectious, but people sometimes behave as if it is. Saying nothing at all is the most unpopular, unsupportive strategy with someone who is grieving. “I don’t have the words,” is better than no words. Saying something formulaic and garbled is little better than saying nothing. The traditional, “I’m sorry for your loss” generally seems impersonal and inadequate.

Avoiding eye contact during the delivery of mumbled or hurried words can feel like another way to defend against any genuine connection with the griever. I have an aversion to the use of euphemisms like “passed away,” in place of “died”. But it is kind to listen to the griever and mirror their language rather than deliver words that they would find too direct. In the same way, it is helpful to take cues from the griever as we try to bring words of comfort. They may not be ready to talk. They may not want to divulge traumatic details or precise circumstances of a death, despite our curiosity, so wait for an invitation before asking direct and detailed questions.

The Words We Choose to Offer to A Grieving Person

In choosing words of comfort, I favour simple statements, offered with congruent hand and facial expressions. Something along these lines and said with authenticity might land gently.

“I’m so sorry.” Or, “I was really sad to hear of…” If I write a card, I try to remember a personal memory or appreciation of the person who has died. Avoid making yourself the centre of attention, but small details of remembrance can be received well.

Grievers often experience a profound sense of exclusion from normal everyday life. They may simply long to be asked, “How are you?” And when your world has just turned upside down, this can be too big a question. “How are you today?” can feel a more manageable enquiry.

An Invitation to Spaciousness

More than anything, grievers often need space to find their voice, their response. They may long for genuine invitations to say how they are, or to tell some of their story, or share the experience of their losses. For me, a slow, gentle invitation to speak or creating a receptive moment for a response, and just listening feels helpful. Avoid offering platitudes that are intended to minimise or console someone’s pain. Grief is better received without offering unasked for suggestions or solutions.

Ritual Ways to Welcome Grief

In Grief Tending events, we welcome many different experiences and emotions. We use simple rituals to encourage people to feel seen and heard. We use simple sentences to acknowledge someone’s grief, like:

“Thank you,” “I see you,” or “I hear you”. We may pour water as a symbolic gesture. Most importantly, we aim to bring our attention to the person who is sharing their experience. It can feel profoundly supportive for someone who is grieving to be listened to by others, who recognise the territory of grief, if not the same experience.

Holding Grief With Presence

If the situation allows it, I try to respond to someone’s grief with attuned presence rather than lots of words. I breathe, and if there is space and time, I often observe their breathing too. Holding space for people requires that my own nervous system is regulated and calm enough to be available to someone else. Listening to the suffering of another can feel overwhelming. In order to develop a sense of equanimity, I often call to mind what supports me, which I draw on in order to support others. Through regular contact with people who are grieving, and by exploring my own emotions, I am growing and expanding my capacity to be with grief.

Empathy not Sympathy

In the rack of greetings cards of condolence for someone who is grieving, there are cards that say “With deepest sympathy”, “sorry for your loss”, and “thinking of you”. The tones are muted, they are adorned with flowers, sunsets and stars. While for some, these will comfort, it can be helpful to choose an image and words that ring true for this particular person, in this particular situation. As you look for ways to acknowledge someone’s pain, I invite you instead to come alongside, to find your empathy, in order to ‘feel with’ rather than ‘feel for’ someone else’s sorrow.

Coming Together in Community

What is often missing in grief is a supportive community. How can we offer our presence in a way that brings people together, that provides food, human warmth, and connection? Notice whether we are bringing those who grieve into relationship or are separating them. Are we able to offer supportive presence and empathy to someone who is grieving in a way that meets where they are at, and welcomes them? As we become familiar with the landscape of grief, it is possible to move beyond words to offer some holding to someone who is grieving as they navigate emotional turmoil.

02 Jan Go For a Walk

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Going for a walk as Self-Care

I go for a walk almost every day. It has become foundational to my health and wellbeing. It is a simple self-care practice that is free and brings many benefits.

There are many different ways to go for a walk. For me, it is a flexible way to engage with my body, surroundings, nature and community. Walking is often a necessity to take us from A to B, where other transport is not available. It may also be a choice as a leisure activity. Sometimes it may include an intentional element – a goal, a pilgrimage, an act of remembrance. It can be social, therapeutic, for health, sport or simply for pleasure.

Developing a Walking Practice for Health

I began walking while travelling, as a way to explore and get to know a new place. When I arrive somewhere unknown, I like to walk to locate myself and map my surroundings. It gives me a way to discover an area, and to travel from one location to another.

I was recovering from Chronic Fatigue Syndrome when my regular walking experiments began. I started going for a walk every day. I began to extend the distance I could comfortably manage to walk. My fitness and walking capacity gradually increased. I had time but little money, and as I walked more, I saved money on bus fares and soaked up more daylight, which improved my winter seasonal low.

I wanted to maintain my growing health and mobility. So, I began to go for the same walk every day. I borrowed a dog, which helped me have a reason to walk. It worked. I kept going for a walk whatever the weather. I noticed that by going for an early walk, I caught a morning surge of energy that I could surf throughout the day.

There are many health benefits of going for a walk. My feet stay warmer after a walk as my circulation works better for the whole day. Going for a walk when it is wet or cold improves my resilience to cold, and I suspect strengthens my immune system.

Going for a walk to other places increases my walkable range, combines with necessary tasks and keeps me active. I count my steps with an App on my phone, which creates an incentive to increase my steps. There are many benefits of walking 10,000 steps a day if you are able. Walking backwards can be positive too, increasing balance and muscle tone.

I have a basic daily walking loop. I extend the length at weekends, on beautiful days and when my time and energy permit. I also go for a walk instead of taking a bus when I can. Time with friends is often spent going for a walk, rather than sitting together.

Connecting With Nature Through Walking

I have been going for a walk most days for over twenty years. I no longer have a dog to walk, but often share my daily perambulation with people. My basic loop continues to delight me. I have grown familiar with the way it changes through the seasons and in different weathers.

My relationship with nature has transformed through this repeated encounter with the same landscape. I have come to know particular paths, trees, a river, and birds. I am getting to know the plants that populate my route through slow-growing familiarity. There are lots of Apps to identify wildlife. Pausing to listen to the variety of bird song can open up my ears to the sky.

Going for an Intentional Walk

I enjoy going for an intentional walk when I have more time. This might be to follow a designated route of special interest. There are many urban and rural routes that feature beautiful landscapes or historical features. Sometimes I walk through my own history. I recently walked from my birth place to my current home.

I have walked along rivers to visit their source, tracked culverts and found outflows into a bigger river or sea. I have walked to visit ancient trees. Sometimes I go for a walk with a friend to experience their special places. From time to time I go for a memorial walk to the place where a parent or pet is scattered. I have been on architectural walks at night-time, and cultural walks to discover more about the history of a place.

I also enjoy ‘psycho-drifting’ (or derive) – just following my nose along an evolving route as a creative exploration. This is a core practice of psychogeography. It can be a great way to meander. It involves letting go of habitual orientation and allowing the stimuli of the surroundings to emerge and inspire. Sometimes I do this as an ‘Artist’s date’ – spending time with myself to find creative inspiration. It can be fun to have a random walk, tossing a coin at each junction to decide the way forward, inspired by ‘The Dice Man’.

Sometimes I take an ‘Omen’ walk with a question in mind. I look out for signs, symbols, creatures and encounters which may add meaning to my inquiry. Inspired by an ancient path or site, I enjoy going for a pilgrimage walk to a meaningful destination. I am a fan of Julian Cope’s ‘Modern Antiquarian’. He shares his unique perspective on the ancient megalithic sites of the UK and Europe. I reach for his commentary when I find myself in the countryside near ancient historical sites. I may encounter a tree with prayer tokens or ‘clooties’ like the one I found here at Coldrum Longbarrow in Kent.

Walking to Weave Community

Whether I am walking a well-trodden route through wild countryside, or going for a walk through urban back-streets, the practice connects me with the land. Going for a walk grounds me, and helps to centre me. I notice that I feel more disconnected and out of sorts on days when I haven’t had the opportunity to go for a walk.

By going for a walk, I also feel woven into relationship with my environment. My daily loop brings me into regular contact with many familiar faces. We smile, say “Good Morning” or “Hi!” Sometimes we stop to notice the weather or share a story. I increase my relationship with the ‘spirit of place’ through going for a walk in my neighbourhood. It feels especially important that I meet people in this way who are different to me, and whom I might not come into contact with in other social settings.

There are lots of walking groups of people who want to meet others and walk together. The Ramblers’ Association is a charity that supports connection through walking, alongside an appreciation for the natural environment.

It is through the practice of going for a walk that I become more sane, enjoying the many ways walking connects me. I often walk with a question, or a problem, and a creative response or solution comes as my feet beat their rhythm on the ground. I breathe more deeply, circulate my blood, inhale the rich smells of composting leaf or flowing water. I feel held by the earth, feel the wisdom of trees, ponder the patterns of history, or deepen my relationship with a friend.

Go for a Walk

Going for a walk gives me a supportive way to increase my wellbeing. To stay in balance our nervous system needs both up-regulation and down regulation. We need both active practices like walking, and also restorative practices that allow us to receive and drop into deep rest. As an important part of my self-care routine it feels both profound and simple to go for a walk. It might be fast or slow, serious or playful, long or short. I invite you to experiment and go for a walk.

31 Oct On Being a Care-Giver

Posted at 15:49h in Articles by admin 0 Comments

The Role of Care-Giver

I am a care-giver, a part-time carer for a friend. Being a carer is not my livelihood. But care-giving has been one of my roles in life for as long as I can remember, including as a co-parent.

I learned early on to take care of others in order to get my own needs met. It began in small and subtle ways – taking care of a parent. It became more complicated, more involved, until ill health demanded that I examine my care roles closely and make changes.

Codependency in Care-Giving

It’s tempting to develop a ‘Saviour Complex’, but I am not a Super Hero. Being kind was a good way to feel good about myself. Doing things for another felt easier than trying to work out what I needed. Being a good girl topped up my self-esteem, allowed me to ignore my own needs, and kept me entangled in a co-dependent relationship with someone who, in an ideal world should have been my care-giver.

In order to return to health, I took a good long look at my tendency to care too much. I re-prioritized my life so that I came first. I re-assessed what I was able to give, and learned to give from my surplus energy. And I recognised that there were people in my life who genuinely needed care – from me and others.

In restoring the balance to include my needs, and share the care load with others, I found a way to offer care in a more balanced way. Read about my ‘Recovery from Chronic Fatigue Syndrome’ to learn more about how I came into right-relationship with caring.

Finding Balance in Care-Giving

There have been a number of family members and friends that I have provided some care-giving to over an extended period. I try to commit to offering regular visits to one person, (despite there being several in my close orbit who would choose more contact).

On the day that I visit someone, I try to ensure that I have met my needs first. On a visiting day, I will ensure that I have slept enough, eaten well, enjoyed some time in nature, and taken care of any very urgent tasks.

I include a walk as part of my journey to the care home, often using my journey time to call friends and read on the train. I try to include something restorative for me, in my visit. I may have a nap, eat something delicious or find a way to include creativity. This way, my care visits feel nourishing to both the person I care for, and me. In addition, there are often mutual expressions of love and gratitude.

Care-Giving After a Stroke

Eight years ago, Alex – a close friend – had a massive stroke. Brain surgery followed. For the first six months he could not sit up or eat. His speech was very limited, and he lost about twenty years of memory. He has limited movement and feeling on one side of his body.

Six months later, Alex made an unexpected sudden recovery of his speech, re-learned how to sit up, eat and drink. Now he spends his day in a wheelchair, and is able to chat for short periods. His brain injury severely limits his capacity and his motivation to do anything.

In the wake of the stroke, I wanted to support him to recover. The thing about strokes is that they vary in cause, site of injury, and severity. There is no clear guarantee of how much or whether someone will be able to recover, or how long recovery will take. The stroke Alex suffered was severe. We didn’t know if he would survive, and if he did, we didn’t know what the impact would be.

Ambiguous Loss

Brain injury, like dementia can be one kind of ‘Ambiguous Loss’. Pauline Boss coined the term to describe mourning a loss or absence that has not yet completed, or is unresolved.

I have lost much of the friend Alex was before the stroke. He is able to remember some of our shared past. Our history together goes back forty years. But for his pre-stroke partner, there is the additional sorrow that he has forgotten their well-established relationship. Alex’s body is still present, but in a different physical state. His mind is also much changed, although his personality remains in-tact.

Alex grieves the absence of who he was. He mourns the loss of his former identities, as he doesn’t remember the things that used to make up his life – his home, his job, his hobbies, his passions, his relationship, his friendships. He grieves the loss of what he used to do, the pleasures and pastimes that gave his life meaning and purpose. He has also lost his perceived potential, his future hopes and dreams. He carries many regrets of what he didn’t do while he was able to.

Learning to Care Without Expectation

For the last eight years, I have visited Alex most weeks. He lives in a care home, and is supported by the staff there, and a small core team of friends. Learning how to offer my care in a way that works for him continues to be a deep learning journey.

We sit together, in his room, with his grief, about all that has happened to him. And I sit with my grief about him and all that I cannot change for him. We sit with our mortality, and our helplessness.

After the first three years, I stopped hoping for change, for some improvement in Alex’s cognitive and physical health. Since then, we have developed a mutual intimacy that is not burdened with my expectations. This is a very personal, slow tending to grief. It requires letting go of trying to change anything.

Being With as Grief Tending

I sit, with as much attunement as I can. I sit with presence, available for conversation or tasks. When I sit with Alex, my company helps him to regulate. My ‘being’ is much more helpful than my ‘doing’ anything.

“When you are here, I feel secure,” he says, closing his eyes for a nap.

This sitting alongside someone in difficulty requires patience and simple kindness. There is often no action necessary, no quick fixes, no guided process. Being with someone who has brain injury requires me to follow their requests and slow pace, without expectation of any particular outcome.

Understanding the Symptoms of a Stroke

Jill Bolte Taylor’s Ted Talk ‘My Stroke of Insight’ gives a fascinating description of her perspective as a neuroanatomist undergoing a stroke. In her book of the same name, she offers a great list of tips on how to be with someone who has had a stroke.

Make sure that you are familiar with FAST – the acronym for the quick check to recognise if someone has the symptoms of a stroke. FAST stands for FACE, ARMS, SPEECH, TIME. Time is critical for someone who may be having a stroke.

Support for Care-Givers

Care-giving can be hugely rewarding. It can also be relentless, boring, distressing and difficult. People may undervalue or not recognise the time, skill and energy that care-giving requires. It is also a role where those who do it may need support, and a place to bring their grief. There may be many losses along the way towards someone’s eventual end-of-life, and they are worthy of grieving. Care-givers are welcome at Grief Tending events.

24 Oct Hamnet

Posted at 19:36h in Book Reviews by admin 0 Comments

I was dazzled by ‘Hamnet’. It’s a novel that entertained and moved me in equal measure. ‘Hamnet’ by Maggie O’Farrell, is a fictional telling of Shakespeare’s home life based around the scant available facts. It is a brilliant imagining of his life in Stratford, of love and loss as he marries and becomes a father.

We already know the end of the story – that plays will be written, that the writing will be celebrated. The mystery that drives the story is the unknown rich life history that will foster the writer Shakespeare is to become.

Maggie O’Farrell writes in compelling prose about grief. She has experienced her own, writing on painful personal losses and close scrapes with death in ‘I Am, I Am, I Am.’ When loss comes in ‘Hamnet’, she describes the agony and its consequences with a recognisable truth.

“She discovers that it is possible to cry all day and all night. That there are many different ways to cry: the sudden outpouring of tears, the deep racking sobs, the soundless and endless leaking of water from the eyes.”

Although Shakespeare as we know him provides the skeleton of the story, we discover him through his parents, siblings, wife and children. ‘Hamnet’ is also a work of social history. It unpacks the tasks, troubles and joys of an Elizabethan household. It also takes us back pre-witch burnings to the practice of herbal medicines for home use, to the every-day world of women and children, as well as the rural and urban streetscapes of Stratford and Shoreditch.

The spelling of Hamnet is interchangeable with Hamlet. The off-stage events happen before and during the play ‘Hamlet’ is written. I’m seeing it at the National Theatre soon, so will listen for resonances.

Sarah Pletts is a Grief Tender and Artist who offers workshops in London and online, sharing rituals where grief on all themes is welcome. For more information about Grief Tending

04 Oct Recovery from Chronic Fatigue Syndrome

Posted at 15:36h in Articles by admin 0 Comments

I recovered from Chronic Fatigue Syndrome

In Chronic Fatigue Syndrome there are broad similarities in its expression in different people, and there are unique circumstances that mean each healing journey of recovery will be unique. I recovered after eight years struggling with CFS/ME. It was a profound and transformative part of my life, although it didn’t feel like it at the time. I am writing about my recovery in the hope that it may inspire others to find their way out of the maze. This article is based on my own experience and understanding. Theories of recovery are constantly changing and new protocols being developed.

A Network of Resources

As a Grief Tender, I bring my understanding of working with all forms of loss. The first step with Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, as in Grief Tending work, is to find a network of resources, to anchor in things that inspire and support us. This may be values, faith, the more than human world, something greater than me, people I trust, a place that makes me feel good.

As a Grief Tender, I bring my understanding of working with all forms of loss. The first step with Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, as in Grief Tending work is to find a network of resources, to anchor in things that inspire and support us. This may be values, faith, the more than human world, something greater than me, people I trust, a place that makes me feel good.

What supports you?

People/animals
Practices/activities
Places/nature
Something greater than me
Self-compassion

“Move away from the bad stuff, move towards the good stuff.” RD

Worlds of pain and joy

A wise young friend of mine has found her own way to improve her mental health using this principle. I like the way she encapsulates worlds of pain and joy in this concise phrase. “Move away from the bad stuff, move towards the good stuff.”

The problem I had in putting this into action, was my inability to distinguish what was doing me harm, and what was beneficial to me. Some of the things I was doing, that I thought were doing me good – like sleeping during the day, wern’t always helpful. When I experimented with changing my activity instead of sleeping, it helped me to recognise whether I needed sleep, or whether I was using sleep to numb out.

Recovery from Chronic Fatigue Syndrome is a jigsaw puzzle and each person will need to explore which things in their lives are the bad stuff, and pursue a subtle path to uncover the good things too. There isn’t a universal set of instructions to figure it out. Learning to use mindfulness can be helpful in learning to notice and monitor our internal and external responses to external situations.

‘Life’s Energy Equation’

I find Dr Sarah Myhill’s basic protocol a very helpful frame to understand how to shift to a more balanced energy account. ‘Life’s Energy Equation’ as she describes it includes a leaky bucket on one side and fuel on the other. The leak in the bucket needs to be repaired, before adding fuel. In simple terms, the leak in the bucket is often the underlying emotional healing that is needed, and the creation of firm boundaries, so that our energy is not syphoned off to others. Until addressing the hole or holes in our system that lets energy flow out, anything else we do will be symptom management, rather than adding beneficial fuel.

Using the lens of balance can give a helpful overview to untangle the places where we may be losing energy, and the areas which need more good quality input or fuel.

Loss of Energy

What are the activities and people which deplete my energy?
What do I carry for others that is not mine, including from ancestral lines?
What do I take on that I don’t need to?
What do I need to let go of?
How do I drive myself?
What drives me?

Energy Credits

What nourishes me – activities, practices, people, places, sleep and food?
How do I find support?
What brings me fun, pleasure, joy?
What sustains and grows me?
What is missing that I need to find?

Healing the past

For me, repairing my energy bucket meant addressing some of the causes of emotional distress from childhood. I was lucky enough to discover an early Mickel Therapy protocol, and worked with a Mickel therapist and using elements of Reverse Therapy to address some of the traumatic events in my history. We worked somatically as I unravelled some of the developmental trauma and neglect from my childhood that I had explored previously in talk therapy, but not experientially through the body. Transforming Touch is a touch based practice (either in person or online) that I have also received which helps to regulate the nervous system and promote healing.

Repairing the body/mind split

Working with a somatic therapist also helped me to notice and prioritise the messages, requests and emergency signals that my body had been frantically trying to communicate to my cognitive awareness. These simple but essential signals had previously been ignored by my busy and capable mind. Pausing and developing mindfulness are simple ways to begin noticing what’s going on inside ourselves.

I discovered that I had been making logical but erroneous decisions about my wellbeing. I began to go to the toilet as soon as I registered the signal for a full bladder. I re-trained my mind to spot and respond to my body’s needs. I learned to notice how I was feeling physically and emotionally. I began to come down to earth.

Bridging the body/mind gap gradually builds trust so that the body’s emergency alert system calms. This creates a positive feedback loop. This and other ways to calm the nervous system are necessary to develop a more balanced, flexible ground state of being. This can be particularly hard when external pressures demand our attention, time, and energy, or add stresses without our consent.

Self-Care is a radical tool

I used to be too kind. I had a tendency to be co-dependent. I had responsibilities to a child, a partner, and a disabled parent. For the first time in my life I learned that my self-care was essential if I was going to be able to offer any support to the people around me. Boundaries were a new concept for me. I began to discover what I needed, what I enjoyed, what the post CFS/ME version of me might want to be. I learned how to make boundaries even with the people around me who had genuine needs. It may sound easy, or glib, but this took the most epic transformation. I needed to learn that I could only support others from a place of surplus.

‘What feels good to my body?’ This is a great question, and a whole field of enquiry. Physical touch is often one way to experience pleasure in our bodies. A good bodyworker is one way to find the tender care we may long for if we have the resources. It can also help us to map and connect our inner experience in the body. Massage is a tool that can also help us to access feeling, soothe, and find support. Self-massage or swapping a shoulder rub with a friend is one way to access positive touch.

With a ‘Healthy Human Culture’ lens

With her excellent ‘Healthy Human Culture’ frame, Sophy Banks’ zooms out the view of burnout. She has helped me to understand how a system (whether it is a body, an organisation, or a culture) becomes organised by trauma, and how to create return paths back to a regulated, regenerative, sustainable pattern. It can be particularly hard to discover sustaining patterns of health, and dealing with our pain in a culture that doesn’t value the wellbeing of all.

“I see that “burnout” is a worldwide condition of modern culture – globalised industrialisation and consumerism are rooted in extraction, disposability and accelerating speed, called growth. The same patterns of extracting from a system more quickly than it can replenish can also apply to groups or individuals – and sometimes we’re doing it to ourselves.” Sophy Banks

Finding ways to express emotions

Post Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, I have become a Grief Tender, and have developed tools to access, process and express emotions. My understanding of grief includes a wide range of feelings including anger, fear, numbness, despair and relief as well as sadness. These (and many others) are natural responses to many different kinds of life events and situations, including loss, absence, longing, change and bereavement. Emotional flexibility is key to mind/body health.

Learning to access anger

I was socialised female, in a family that didn’t express much anger. I didn’t have role models or tools to find healthy expressions of injustice and frustration. Learning to be angry was part of my recovery. Taking the lid of emotions, and anger in particular, can open up energy that has been tied up in staying small, nice and safe. Grief Tending is a way to surface and express feelings in a context where people are held by the container of a supportive group.

There are many different routes and pathways for working with trauma in relation to patterns of ill health. It’s important to find ways that work for you to:

Find support
Recognise and process past hurt, loss, absences and longings
Learn how to notice, recognise, experience and express current feelings
Find new ways to discover what you love and enjoy

Good Fuel

Good nutrition is part of moving towards the ‘good stuff’. It might be a really important part of your plan for recovery. I am also wary of the many ways people with Chronic Fatigue Syndrome can be willing to try anything to recover. This often includes a lot of expensive supplements or healing modalities. Keep following your gut instincts. This might be exactly what you need, but remember fuel will only feed you once you have started work on repairing the holes in your bucket.

One of the foundation practices of my own recovery was to go for a walk in the park. It is free. I enjoy it. It connects me with nature. Decades on, it is still one of the most important things in my life. It is a life-affirming, health-giving part of my essential self-care practice.

Recovery is scary

As my health started to improve, I was able to do more, but there was a persistent anxiety. I didn’t want to return to the darkness of chronic illness. A return to health is also often a bumpy journey with ups, downs and plateaux. As my immune system re-balanced I had a series of dental abscesses. I am still sensitive around chemical perfumes. Learning to trust and love my body was a process. I continue to take very good care of myself, and I’m probably fitter now than I’ve ever been.

“We, all of us, are learning to be here now, experience sensation, notice, and come to understand that we are worthy, that there is nothing to do, and that our bodies are glorious.” Max Mora

What I love and what sustains me

I found Betty Martin’s ‘Wheel of Consent’ another brilliant tool to help me get clear about boundaries with other people, and figure out what I wanted, and what I was tolerating. It is a practice that’s easy to learn, and starts as a touch practice, but can be applied to any aspect of life where we might give, take, receive or allow.

Along with walking, I discovered what I love and what sustains me – dancing, Pilates, feeding birds, meditating, sewing and drawing. I changed my lifestyle and found ways to express my sexuality. I started learning about grief, and changed my working life. In fact, having been through Chronic Fatigue Syndrome was an essential part of the learning that inspired me to become a Grief Tender and support others who are struggling with life’s challenges. By digging deep into my own journey into the underworld, I found gold.

See previous post: ‘Chronic Fatigue Syndrome and Grief’

Support Links:

If you are experiencing the symptoms of CFS/ME, consult your doctor to register the onset of symptoms and check for any other possible causes.

Dr Sarah Myhill’s ‘Life Energy Equation’ Protocol

Sophy Banks ‘Burnout or Balance’

Healthy Human Culture

CODA Codependents Anonymous

Mindfulness

Mickel Therapy

Reverse Therapy

Transforming Touch

Introduction to Betty Martin’s ‘Wheel of Consent’

Action for ME

ME Association

Integrated Somatics

Max Mora and Sarah Pletts on ‘Working with Grief in the Body’

Self-Compassion

04 Oct Chronic Fatigue Syndrome and Grief

Posted at 14:47h in Articles by admin 0 Comments

Looking back at Chronic Fatigue Syndrome

It is hard to describe the experience of having CFS after having recovered. Partly because having it was monotonous, relentless and difficult. Like many challenging experiences, our brains store these memories in a different way to the happy stories. For me, as with many others CFS brings poor memory and brain function as part of the symptom picture too. I chatted with JA, who has also recovered about how it was for them, and include some of their quotes in this article.

“Every bone and joint in my body hurt, and I didn’t have the energy to get up and go to the loo.” JA

What I expected but did not receive

I lost my thirties to CFS, at the time I expected to be building a career, and having children. This is an example of Francis Weller’s second Gate of Grief – ‘what I expected but did not receive’. Instead, I was lying motionless on a sofa, sometimes listening to classic audio books from the library, and staring at the blanket over my legs. I didn’t have the concentration to read. Music felt overpowering as if I had no skin. Chatting to others was exhausting.

Living in slow motion

My enduring memory of the experience was of watching the colours in the blanket. The light and shade in the room moved around like a sun dial, illuminating different colours and textures in the room. It was as though I was living in slow motion, my view of the world shrunk to the things I could see from the sofa.

“When I had CFS/ME, everything I thought was important got stripped away, so you get to find out what’s absolutely necessary.” JA

The symptoms of Chronic Fatigue Syndrome

Fatigue is usually the predominant symptom of Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. It is not the kind of tiredness that comes at the end of a busy day, or after exertion. It is a deep, incapacitating, immobilising sensation where limbs feel as heavy as lead, and any activity is a huge effort. If you have experienced CFS, you will probably also have experienced well-meaning friends saying, “I feel really tired too.” It really isn’t every day ordinary tiredness.

These are the main symptoms that may be present in this debilitating chronic condition, although others may be part of the picture too. A range of symptoms must persist for over six months, and exclude other illnesses to secure a diagnosis of Chronic Fatigue Syndrome/ Myalgic Encephalomyelitis (CFS/ME).

Extreme tiredness, especially after physical or mental activity
Brain fog, and memory problems
Dizziness, sore throat, headaches
Muscle weakness (and for some muscle and joint pain or fibromyalgia)
Disrupted sleep patterns, and waking tired after sleeping

My experience of Chronic Fatigue Syndrome

I felt ancient. I noticed octogenarians who were moving at my new pace; invisible and over-taken on the pavement by the able-bodied young. Any energy I had was used up doing essential tasks and trying to manage my limited energy.

“I tried everything, which drained my resources financially and energetically.” JA

I was lucky. I had a supportive partner. We had enough resources to survive. I could put my attention on trying to understand Chronic Fatigue Syndrome and work out how to improve my health. In those days there wasn’t much support available. CFS was also stigmatised by many who saw sufferers as malingerers or wrote it off as depression. My experience was relatively mild for most of the years I was affected. I had several periods where I was sofa-ridden for a few months at a time, and gradually recovered with brief relapses. Some people are very severely affected and need personal care.

An alchemical transformation

I am not a fan of ungrounded positive thinking, and blaming people for their choices, for creating their Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. It was, however, a learning process for me. Looking back at my eight years of debilitating symptoms, I see it as an alchemical process. I was tempered in the crucible of Chronic Fatigue, which transformed me into the person I have become. It’s hard to quantify the changes in me; I felt like I had been on a meditation retreat for eight years. It wasn’t easy. It involved a rigorous examination of every aspect of my life, changes in how I thought, felt, behaved and related.

“I felt like a reverse sleeping beauty and woke up 9 years later, 9 years older.” JA

Chronic Fatigue Syndrome and grief

From my subjective vantage point I want to share some of my observations about my experience of Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, and recovery from it. Since becoming well, I have become a Grief Tender. The more I learn about grief and the grieving process, the more I see some external parallels between grief and burnout/CFS. Although the experience of CFS is predominantly physical collapse, and grief is more emotional although there are impacts on the body too.

With both Chronic Fatigue Syndrome and complicated or prolonged grief, there are some commonalities before, during and after the onset of symptoms or the impact of grief. These include:

Pre-existing loading that underlies the onset of CFS/grief
During the experience of CFS/grief the symptoms are broad – affecting the whole mind/body system
The context and life situation around the person experiencing CFS/grief are important factors
Secondary losses that happen as a result of or after the onset of CFC/grief
Routes to recovery, moving through CFS/grief are life-changing experiences
Recovery will involve growing a new life as part of our unique journey around, through and beyond CFS/grief

The conditions or loading preceding CFS/grief

My understanding and experience of developing CFS was that it was preceded by a ‘loading’ of different physical, emotional, mental and spiritual causes. My mind/body system was trying to deal with more than it could handle.

In my case this included some developmental trauma from unresolved childhood issues, becoming a new step-parent of a very active child, moving house, getting married, working erratically as a freelancer (feast or famine), some digestive issues, poor blood sugar management, being an only child of a parent with a mental health diagnosis, and then a series of infections on top – chickenpox, Hepatitis A, then flu. Although it felt like a normal but chaotic set of circumstances, my system was overloaded and suddenly crashed.

Emotional triggers causing physiological effects

There were many factors in the mix that it took me years to unravel. Adrenal burnout was certainly part of my physiological cocktail. My system was simultaneously on emergency alert, (adrenalin rushes, muscles tensed unable to switch off, digestion suspended), and with an emergency braking mechanism also on, causing more of a freeze response. With the help of a Mickel therapist, (thank you Jane Orton) I began the detective work of seeing my emotional triggers that were causing physiological effects. And my physical symptoms were very real. I also needed to understand nervous system states, and learn tools for self and co-regulation.

“The worst thing about having CFS/ME is not knowing how long it is going to last.” JA

Secondary losses caused by illness/grief

As in someone’s personal grief landscape, the circumstances in the build-up, the particular symptom picture during, and the context it happens in are all relevant. The consequences or secondary losses will also be part of the unique picture of someone’s life. The inner and outer resources, as well as the support systems available will also impact someone’s ability to recover, and at what pace. People have the freedom to make their own choices, but they are also subject to their particular environment, and luck.

“There are very real mental health issues of having CFS, of being in this for so long.” JA

In Grief Tending workshops, I often remind people of the many different influences on their circumstances – which may include culture, faith, class, gendered socialisation, health, neurological wiring, sexuality, trauma history, wealth, family or lack of it, and ancestral histories to name a few. The impacts that land in these terrains create a unique set of circumstances in each of us.

Processing Grief

Processing grief may be an important part of a recovery plan from CFS. There are often pre-existing grief loads from the time before CFS. Then there is always the grief of what has been lost, missed, longed for, and the pain carried since having CFS. As well as the lost hopes and dreams of our imagined futures, there are often lost opportunities, lost friendships, lost identities, reduced resources, and lost time spent with our loved ones.

There are different kinds of chronic energy collapse including Long Covid, Autistic burnout, work burnout, Post Viral Syndrome, and Chronic Fatigue Syndrome/ Myalgic Encephalomyelitis. There can be varying symptoms, durations and overlapping syndromes between them. There may be one apparent cause, although that may just be ‘the straw that broke the camel’s back’. I’m not a medical professional and there are still many competing theories and perspectives on both cause and cure. Grief in its widest sense may be one of many contributing factors. And where there is chronic illness, which precipitates other losses, grief is usually part of the whole picture. All the things that have been lost as a result of any chronic condition, as well as anticipatory grief/anxiety for what is still to come.

“You don’t understand what it’s like unless you’ve been through it.” JA

Grieving Together

Chronic Fatigue Syndrome is a lonely journey. Finding spaces where it is possible to be part of a group experience, while taking care of our needs can be problematic. Finding connection while navigating chronic illness is often beyond our capacity.

Many people who are sick approach our Grief Tending workshops with trepidation, but find them a useful place to connect with others who are going through life-changing circumstances and learning how to be with life’s desperate times and conditions that are so often isolating.

See article on ‘Recovery from Chronic Fatigue Syndrome’

Support Links:

If you are experiencing the symptoms of CFS/ME, consult your doctor to register the onset of symptoms and check for any other possible causes.

NHS Chronic Fatigue Symptoms
ME Association

27 Sep Grief Tending Training

Posted at 16:20h in Articles by admin 0 Comments

A Training in Grief Tending

The ‘Apprenticing to Grief’ programme is a training in Grief Tending. It is a short, deep immersion into the practice of facilitating groups through grief. On the training we teach how to lead a tried and tested guided journey for people who are experiencing grief. Students are given tools to work with ritual, and somatic practices which encourage people’s ability to anchor in resource, surface feelings, express in different ways, and regulate their nervous systems.

“Powerful group work and processes for tending grief with integrity and tenderness. Transformational work needed for today.” Former participant

The Teachers of Grief Tending

Building on the teachings of Sobonfu and Malidoma Somé, Francis Weller, Joanna Macy, Martin Prechtel, this lineage was orginally woven by Maeve Gavin, and has been carried forward by Sophy Banks and Jeremy Thres. The current form of this Grief Tending training was crafted by Sophy Banks and evolved by the team, who each bring their own wisdom and experience to ‘Apprenticing to Grief’. Ultimately, it is grief who is the teacher, and brings us to work with the medicine of Grief Tending.

Learning Modules

This Grief Tending training includes learning modules on:

The shape of a Grief Tending event
Holding ceremony and ritual
Safety and ethics
Facilitating groups
Holding space for grief in different contexts

Embodied and Experiential Learning

The design of the training emphasises embodied and experiential learning. The structure of the programme includes the opportunity to practice facilitating part of a Grief Tending journey with encouragement and supportive reflections from the group. Participants gain a clear understanding of the Grief Tending form, the skills needed, and a practical understanding of their strengths in relation to this work.

Roles Explored on the Training

Through the brilliant design of the ‘Apprenticing to Grief’ training, students work on multiple levels to gain understanding. We use the metaphor of ‘hats’ to differentiate between role switches, such as:

Participant – in my own grief process
Apprentice – learning about Grief Tending
Facilitator – delivering content and holding space
Meta – looking at the meta-perspective

Welcoming Diversity

In our Grief Tending training, we invite students to explore and expand their capacity to hold space for grief. This includes an understanding of facilitating across difference. We welcome participants from diverse backgrounds. This is reflected in the sliding scale of fees, and application process.

Who Trains as a Grief Tender?

People approach our Grief Tending training from a wide variety of backgrounds. Some may already be a helping professional, or working alongside vulnerable people. Some may have a strong spiritual or nature connection practice. Others may be stepping toward holding space for grief from a background in the arts or activism. Sometimes people already teach or facilitate groups, while others may be doulas or work with the bereaved. We aim not to exclude those who have relevant life experience; but may not have any therapeutic qualifications.

Gain Confidence and Knowledge

As a consequence of this broad mix, ‘Apprenticing to Grief’ is not a complete training. People come with such a wide variety of expertise, ages, and experience. After this intense, brief course, as well as gaining confidence and knowledge, students will also identify areas in which they may need further development or study.

Our Network of Apprentices

Although it is widely practiced, Grief Tending does not currently have a registration body. It often takes place in grassroots communities. The training provides a strong grounding in professional practice, but it is not currently certificated. However, after the training programme, our Apprenticing network is available to all alumni. We hold quarterly meetings for support and Continued Professional Development. There are also regular meetings for those organising Grief Tending events. We also offer assisting opportunities as a pathway for those who have completed the training and are building their practical experience, as well as options for mentoring.

Pre-Requisites for Applicants

Before undertaking a training in Grief Tending, we ask that people have experience of the practice by attending an event held by someone on the Apprenticing team. As well as a commitment to doing our own inner work, and ensuring that we are adequately supported, experiencing different Grief Tending events really helps students step towards becoming a Grief Tender.

Honouring Our Gifts

Before I became a Grief Tender, I was looking for something that would bring together the many segments of my own Venn diagram. These included:

Creativity and ritual
Nature and spirituality
Intimacy and relating
Embodiment and trauma
Systems thinking and processing pain
Mortality and grief
Community and care

Being of Service

Grief Tending training was a direction that made sense of my interests and skills. I was looking for a way to be of service in a world riddled with many kinds of grief, while living in a grief-phobic culture. The ‘Apprenticing to Grief’ training valued my unconventional life path and recognised the experience gained. This is a practice that does not ask for years of training at vast expense. I was welcomed onto the training, and my gifts were valued. I was encouraged to bring my own flavour into my development as a Grief Tender.

Grief Tending Training Since 2019

Along with two of my co-workers, Bilal Nasim and Tony Pletts, I was one of the first cohort of students in March 2019. Sophy Banks and Jeremy Thres inspired and guided us on our ‘Apprenticing to Grief’. Since then, the Grief Tending training programme has evolved and been refined into its current form.

Two Different Formats

The Grief Tending training now takes place in two different formats:

In person, over a week (This is offered twice a year in the UK)
Online, three modules, each 3 days long, plus 2 short extra sessions.

I have supported the programme many times, and also now co-lead on a regular basis. I will be co-facilitating with Jeremy Thres online in Spring 2026, and in person in Oxford in Autumn 2026. Further details, dates, fees and applications here.

“A really transformational, caring and beautiful experience and practice that should be available to everyone.” Former participant

Sarah Pletts is a Grief Tender and Artist who offers workshops in London and online, sharing rituals where grief on all themes is welcome. For more information about Grief Tending see the Embracing Grief website.

28 Aug In the Absence of the Ordinary

Posted at 20:31h in Book Reviews by admin 0 Comments

‘In the Absence of the Ordinary: Soul Work for Times of Uncertainty’ is a collection of essays by Francis Weller. Each essay takes a different theme, to wind a path forward through ‘the Long Dark’, as he calls these times. His words taste like dark chocolate – a bitter sweet medicine for the times of uncertainty which we are living in.

In acknowledging the disturbing nature of life amongst wars, genocide, changing weather patterns, and loss of species to name a few, Francis Weller encourages us to turn towards grief and fear with self-compassion. “Ritual, prayer, meditation and creativity are ways to foster an intimacy with the world of soul and soul of the world.”

Understanding the disturbance to the psyche of collective trauma and the prevalence of personal traumas, he reframes these experiences as ‘rough initiations.’ Through finding ways to hold trauma in community and with ritual, and opening to the sacred brings transformation that is not just personal, but for our collective wellbeing.

In his book ‘In the Absence of the Ordinary’, Frances Weller encourages us to reconnect with our indigenous soul – to do our inner work for the benefit and with the support of our village. Tending our hearts is necessary work for our communities, and we need a village to hold us to do this work.

“The weight of grief and suffering that we are facing is more than we can hold in isolation.”

He reminds me of the profound change that comes with appreciation of beauty. To find our way back to what is sacred through bringing presence to a reciprocal engagement with nature. My relationship with particular crows is both meaningful and subversive. Francis Weller inspires me to feel that my small acts of connection with nature in a world that is fuelled by consumption, privatisation and individualism are worthwhile.

I continue to trust my deep instincts that feel the desecration of my environment and offer ways for people to come together to grieve. In a world where burnout is prevalent, he urges us to rest.

“To stop, rest, and disengage from the mania of productivity, achievement, and speed”.

The temptation “to forget and go numb” is huge, but Francis Weller’s words inspire with ways to stay awake, to shed, to grow and to approach our own regeneration so that we might become imperfect, kind elders. Calling us eloquently into relationship with all life, Francis Weller invites us to offer thanks, to slow down for our survival. His message is ultimately hopeful.

For more about Francis Weller’s ‘Wild Edge of Sorrow’ see my article ‘Francis Weller’s Gates of Grief and Me’, and in ‘Best Grief Books’ article.