Grief/Loss/Feelings Tag

09 Apr Boarding School Trauma

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Like Ash Sarkar who interviews Richard Beard on Novara Media’s podcast ‘Downstream: We Must Ban Private Schools’, I went to a comprehensive school. If this was also your experience, you’d be forgiven for thinking that ‘boarding school syndrome’ doesn’t affect you. Maybe like me you have friends or family who did, but it’s not just that. As Ash says,
“boarding school life is suffused through our popular culture,” and it creates a fascinating mystique, and consequences for us all. Of course, not everyone has a bad experience of boarding school life, and I’m not suggesting that if you went to a comprehensive school you had a brilliant time either. In an ideal world, education would be a flexible, caring, child-centred place to explore and develop.

Richard Beard argues (one of a growing cohort who have written on the subject including Joy Schaverien and Alex Renton), that boarding school is where many of our leaders in politics, business, law, journalism and other professions may have learned to disconnect from compassion. The consequences of the normalisation of separating children as young as seven or eight from their loving care-givers, to be imprinted by a competitive system that shames vulnerability, and where abuse, bullying and punishment were (in the past at least) endemic, may have repercussions for everyone in society.

This potentially traumatising system underpins much of our society, and was exported from the UK via colonialism to mete out further harm in other places. Beard adds that the values of this exclusive education also trickle down into the whole private school system in the UK, where “a cycle of entitlement” may be fostered, if people have been repeatedly told that they have received the best education. Beard eloquently describes a system that can condone independence, at the expense of distress, in the name of privilege.

Beard also describes the mechanism that creates this
“dislocation between what you’re being told and what you’re feeling”, which gives rise to repression of empathy. He describes the painful sound of a dormitory’s grief, where,
“a volley of cries goes round the room”, but “the next day we’ve got to get up and we’ve got to pretend that never happened.” The resulting internalised message is, “Don’t show empathy for other peoples’ emotions, and then don’t show empathy for your own. Don’t show empathy for your own sadness.”

Some of the other defences that people may be socialised into in this system include: deflection, politeness, charm and inauthentic self-deprecation. These defences compensate for a complex set of emotions that are being defended against. Richard Beard’s book ‘Sad Little Men: Private Schools and the Ruin of England’ explores these dynamics in public schools in more depth.

In artist Tony Gammidge’s animation ‘Norton Grim and Me’, he reveals himself as school boy in a dormitory where tears are ignored, and the severing of family ties is perpetuated in the name of tradition. He says:
“Norton Grim and Me is about my experiences of going to boarding school, aged 7 years old. It is about the trauma of the separation from my home and family, the tradition and culture that normalises this practice and the impact that this has had on me emotionally and somatically.”

It’s a short, powerful watch that gives an alternative version of boarding school to the jolly games of Quidditch in Harry Potter. Also disturbing is the portrayal of Philip and Charles’ school days as dramatic portrayals of a repressive regime in ‘The Crown’.

Rummaging in family papers, I find evidence from my father’s school days. I shudder when I read his school report age 8 that reads, “Has started Rugby. Will do better when he is a little more robust”. Even as an adult he remained slight. I scrutinise the faces of boys, the majority of whom look unhappy, and the stern ‘masters’.

In addition to the foundation provided by a boarding school education which may in itself be problematic, sexual abuse, at least in former decades was rife. I am gratified by Christ’s Hospital’s recent ‘statement of acknowledgement’, which feels like a significant step in the right direction. The Scottish Child Abuse Inquiry is currently investigating not only children in care, but also in boarding schools.

While individual teachers who are subject to allegations may face prosecution, the recognition that school cultures may have played a part in enabling or covering up harm that children in their care experienced is important. Boarding schools are one example of a ‘total institution’, as described by Erving Goffman. This is a “place of residence and work where a large number of like-situated individuals, cut off from the wider society for an appreciable period of time, together lead an enclosed, formally administered round of life.” In such systems, if unscrupulous people are in charge, perhaps with their own developmental trauma, they can wield power unchecked with impunity.

Sophy Banks enquiry into ‘Healthy Human Culture’, looks at the dynamics of change in organisations. This work explores how we uncover the unhealthy dynamics that enables misuse of power, and how to begin the work of restoration and repair. Vitally she asks the question, what would a healthy system look like, with caring community at the centre, and educational values that favour respect, curiosity, creativity over ruthless competition?

In ‘Of Water and the Spirit’, Malidoma Patrice Somé describes his own religious schooling. It is an example of the way some Europeans exported an authoritarian educational regime. He rebelled,
“…for there are times when disobedience heals a very ailing part of the self. It relieves the human spirit’s distress at being forced into narrow boundaries. For the nearly powerless, defying authority is often the only power available.” His experience in this system was part of the process that eventually brought him back to his indigenous roots. This cross-cultural journey is one of the threads that would bring the social technology of Grief Tending to the UK.

Re-connecting with emotions, long repressed is a common theme that people may bring to Grief Tending spaces. Boarding school trauma, and other surrounding issues, may be a theme that someone carries. We offer support circles and grief workshops where we encourage empathy for both ourselves and others. You can find our next events here.

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.

20 Feb Betrayal

Posted at 13:54h in Sarah's Journal by admin 0 Comments

I’ve been thinking recently about the theme of betrayal. Do you feel that you were sold the dream of happiness in life, but all you are left with is a burst balloon?

There are the deliberate acts of betrayal – stories of revenge or deception. The fascinating ‘cat-fishing’ story recounted in the Tortoise Media podcast ‘Sweet Bobby’ describes how devastating an intimate betrayal can be. Just think about how you felt if you have ever been scammed and multiply it.

There are ways in which we may feel betrayed by care-givers, elders or leaders; the very people we trusted to take care of us in our families or communities. Imagine the betrayal, for example, of those affected by disasters such as earthquake, flood, storm – who may have been failed by builders, town planners, governments, NGO’s and the wider world.

‘What we expected but did not receive,’ one of Francis Weller’s ‘Gates of Grief’, comes in many shapes and forms. It may show up as an existential sense of betrayal – the hopes and dreams which have not been delivered. This may be where disappointment and longing meets betrayal.

From our early years, stories portray the ‘hero’s journey’ as the route through life, but Paul Weinfield tells another version:

“In the real hero’s journey, the dragon slays YOU. Much to your surprise, you couldn’t make that marriage work. Much to your surprise, you turned forty with no kids, no house, and no prospects. Much to your surprise, the world didn’t want the gifts you proudly offered it.” Quoted here.

Then there are all the mundane acts of betrayal we have experienced or dished out to others in our everyday relationships. Have you ever cheated or been cheated on? These acts of dishonesty, disloyalty, or insensitivity, and accidents of miscommunication populate our relationship lives with all too familiar drama.

Acts of self-betrayal are also often painfully commonplace. Where have I disregarded my physical or emotional needs? My personal needs are regularly competing with my social needs to be liked and belong. Remaining loyal to my body, I regularly feel as though I am letting people down, betraying the loyalty of a friendship because my social capacity has limits.

Wherever there are relationships based on trust, there is the potential for betrayal. In the past I have assumed shared ethics, only to discover that someone was abusing their position of power, and exploiting my loyalty. The outcome was that I felt betrayed. Afterwards I felt the absence of places to express my feelings, to explore what was true for me.

In the wake of ‘betrayal trauma’, trust doesn’t come easily. I discovered Grief Tending post ‘Me Too’, as a space where a vast range of complex feelings might be welcomed, and as a way for people and communities to begin the process of acknowledgement and repair. Whether personal or collective, the grief of betrayal is a welcome theme at our events.

You can find out more about the Grief Tending events we offer here.

15 Aug Grief Circles

Posted at 15:54h in Articles by admin 3 Comments

Embodied Support for Grief, Using Creativity, Ritual and Grief Circles

In today’s world many people long to return to places where grief is spoken of, where we can find connection and name our truths. There are many practices where a grief circle is central, and Grief Tending is one of them. In Grief Tending, we set an intention to move gently towards feelings. Before a grief circle we use exercises that help to make people feel comfortable enough with the process to be able to participate. A grief circle is a ritual where feelings make be expressed. At the end we use practices to move back to rest and digest mode, to soothe our nervous systems once the grief circle is complete.

Our Ancestors’ Circles

Since people have been on this earth, they have gathered in circles. Our ancestors sat with a fire at the centre, and the crackle of logs, the scent of smoke. People all over the world and throughout time gathered to find warmth, tell stories, sing songs and speak from the heart. In places and organisations where we depend on plastic chairs, and electric light, rather than the glow of a fire, we may long to return to the practice of gathering in circle in nature. Despite modern environments, grief circles continue to be meaningful to participate in.

Grief Circles in Grief Tending

In Grief Tending we include embodiment, creativity and ritual in our events, and the way in which we bring a grief circle. When we practice Grief Tending, we often use a grief circle as the central part of the event. When we meet face to face, we use a variety of central practices to express feelings, including grief circles.

A Trauma Sensitive Approach to Grief Circles

Working with a trauma sensitive approach, we structure events so that exercises to focus on embodiment and support happen before a grief circle. During a grief circle we encourage people to take care of their needs. Sharing is always optional. It can be a big step for someone to risk being vulnerable, and be witnessed in a group setting.

And then soothing and integration practices happen after a grief circle.

The Circle is Democratic

Sitting in circle is an ancient and simple format for sharing with others. It creates a non-hierarchical form that can be democratic. Although a grief circle may have a facilitator, they are not above or below anyone else in the space. The voice of each member can be equally represented and heard. In the role of grief circle facilitator, I may share my experiences in the circle (when time allows), which participants often appreciate. Because this mirrors the universal nature of the experience of grief. The facilitator is also part of the circle whether they share or not.

Grief Tending in Community

Grief Tending is a practice that happens in community, and during an event we will make and return to a circle together repeatedly. We invite participants to be part of the holding container, so that each person will at times be a holder, or step forward to express themselves in some way. People who are in the holding role give their attention to witness and acknowledge someone who is sharing something. The person who takes a turn to step into the being witnessed role may speak or sound, sing, move or be silent.

If this is speaking to you, to find out more about the practice of Grief Tending here. And the grief circles we hold here.

Unspoken Truths

People often share things in a grief circle that they may not be able to in other contexts. They may reveal something that they have never told anyone before. There may not be words but feelings that are expressed through sounds, tears, body movements. If it feels safe enough, people may voice something, and through it being seen and heard by others, it can have a transformative effect. Being witnessed can be a very powerful experience.

The Role of Witness

Stories that have been kept secret or feel shameful may be received with the supportive attention of the circle. We invite the group to acknowledge what they have witnessed with simple words, “I see you,” or “I hear you”, but not to offer advice. One at a time people share, and the group receives them and responds without judgement. Hearing one another can be an extraordinary experience too. As Kelly McGonigal puts it, “Listening with your whole body except your mouth”. In the Grief Tending circles we hold, the listeners do not offer reflections or ‘cross talk’ with their own responses to someone else’s story.

How Does a Grief Circle Work?

In a grief circle our experience is welcomed, given space, and seen. Turns to share may be taken starting in one direction, one person after another. Or people may be invited to take turns ‘popcorn style’, whenever they feel ready. In a small group everyone may have an equal turn to share. This may be timed, so that the group’s time is divided equally. Even a small amount of sharing time can be useful. There may be a talking ‘stick’ or a sound, to mark the beginning or end of someone’s time to share. In a large circle everyone may not take a turn to share something. This will depend on the time allowed, the group’s intention, and the agreements set before the circle begins.

The Role of Sharer

Stepping into the role of sharer can feel very intense. As a consequence of previous history, being an introvert, trauma around groups, or being seen, can make this feel either a bit scary or extremely challenging. In the groups we hold, sharing is not an obligation. People may pass if it is their turn. Choosing to take a turn, but remain silent is also a valid way to use the opportunity. It is often the case that people have felt alone, ashamed, overwhelmed, not good enough. But when they share their real feelings with the grief circle, they discover that other people may have similar feelings or experiences.

Vulnerability Builds Connection

Through someone making themselves vulnerable by revealing their inner experience, this deepens and strengthens the connection felt in the group. In response to what has been shared the participants of the holding circle often feel empathy. This can lead to a sense of compassion between people for one another. As a consequence, they may each begin to recognise some similarity in the way they feel. Common themes may emerge amongst participants. As a result, this increases connection between group members.

We Deserve Kindness

Through the grief work that I do, I see windows into people’s inner lives. I regularly see that we are fierce keepers of our hearts to protect ourselves. We often judge ourselves more harshly than others. Many people are scared, anxious, and ashamed. Our inner critic take control, undermining our sense of self worth and confidence. Our unattainable expectations, inner perfectionists and not-good-enough imposter syndrome ties us in knots that keeps us restricted and small.

People Deserve Respect

Recognising this in others can help us see that we also deserve kindness, respect, and a chance to be seen. Malidoma Somé speaks of people’s natural longing to shine:

“Whether they are raised in indigenous or modern culture, there are two things that people crave: the full realization of their innate gifts, and to have these gifts approved, acknowledged, and confirmed. There are countless people in the West whose efforts are sadly wasted because they have no means of expressing their unique genius. In the psyches of such people there is an inner power and authority that fails to shine because the world around them is blind to it.”
Malidoma Patrice Somé The Healing Wisdom of Africa: Finding Life Purpose Through Nature, Ritual, and Community

The Context That Grief Happens In

Events which spark grief happen to everyone. But they always happen in a context. It is not just the impact of the event itself which may cause grief, but how it was handled afterwards that may have added to feelings of not being held, seen, or protected after the loss or difficult situation. People often arrive in a grief circle after experiences which have not been received with the care and unconditional love which support healing. Therefore, with the holding provided by the members of the group, this is another way in which a grief circle can have a strong and healing effect. Sophy Banks talks about the context of grief in relation to the landscape of trauma in her work on ‘Healthy Human Culture’.

Every Loss is Important

In a grief group it can be tempting to feel that what someone else shared is more important than what I bring. But each loss is important, a true expression of feeling. Consequently, this spectrum of different experiences, and variety of ways of expressing feelings adds value to the whole. I like the image of a jigsaw puzzle. We each bring a different piece. Through each person’s contribution, and the diversity of the group, we make up a more whole picture.

Grief Circle Agreements

Setting up a grief circle requires careful boundary setting. When we facilitate a grief circle, we make agreements with the group beforehand around self-care, confidentiality and mutual respect. This is essential so that people may feel safe enough to participate. We aim to give clear instructions about the different roles of witness and sharer. We also try to give permission for people to be able to respond to the space in a way that works for them.

Boundaries in a Grief Circle

In addition to this, we make clear boundaries about start and end times, as well as making sure we can be in a private space, where we won’t be interrupted. According to the limits of event length, allowing an equal time limit can be a helpful way of maintaining equal value of each participant.

A grief circle can work really well online, as well as in person. In both formats, we like to make a clear threshold at the beginning and end of a grief circle. We usually invite the participants to breathe or sound together so that we begin a process of attuning to one another. Silence is also valuable as we move into a grief circle, but it can also allow the group to drop into a deeper level together.

A Grief Circle is Where the Magic Happens

For me, the trust that has been created before a grief circle starts is crucial. The openness of the participants, the willingness of people to bring their vulnerability, and the capacity of the facilitator to hold the space, all add to the level of communication that the group collectively arrives at. There is also an element of mystery which it feels important to acknowledge. When people come together in a grief circle, something magical can happen. In addition to the conditions that have been set up, the dynamics of each group creates something unique.

Each Circle is Different

I have sat in circle many, many times, and each time it is different. Often there is a huge spread of different kinds of sharing, and sometimes themes emerge spontaneously. There can be a lot of difference between people or similarity. Whether it is large, or small, each circle has been valuable. And witnessing others is just as important as having a space to evoke feelings.

I am Not Alone

When we sit in a grief circle with one another, we may see how other people feel about themselves, which may help us be kinder to ourselves. When I hear that other people share my concerns for the things that are happening personally, locally or globally, it helps me to feel that I am not alone. In addition, I may gain a new perspective by recognising that it’s not just something that only I feel. It’s so easy to make judgements about others, to project our idea of who they are onto them, until we hear about their inner life, or the challenges that they are facing or the history that they carry.

Different Kinds of Sharing Circle

There are many different kinds of sharing circle. They may happen in a village, with an elder or leader, amongst peers in an existing community; or amongst strangers with a facilitator. Many different kinds of groups and organisations use this simple format, because it is as old as the hills and it works. A sharing circle may have a specific theme, such as grief, or a specific client group, such as people who live in this community, or people who have experienced bereavement recently. It is used for conflict resolution work, and for relating with others in many kinds of self-development work.

The Way of Council

‘The Way of Council’ is the format which underpins the grief focussed circles that we hold. Although in a Council, people may be invited to bring whatever is alive for them on any theme.

“The heart of these practices – of listening, learning, living and thinking like a circle – are needed now more than ever.”
Ways of Council

I echo this call for circles, the importance of listening to one another, of sitting with our truths, and the transformative power that this can have in our wider communities.

Grief Tending Often Includes a Grief Circle

In Grief Tending, a grief circle is one of the shapes we use. We may use other rituals according to the physical space, the number of participants, and the length of retreat. And in a Grief Tending circle we welcome different styles of expression, not just words.

You can find more about upcoming Grief Circles and other Grief Tending events here.

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 www.griefsupport.org.uk .

07 Aug The Feeling Spectrum

Posted at 06:51h in Sarah's Journal by admin 0 Comments

Where are you on the feeling spectrum? It might be helpful to imagine a scale for access to feeling responses, where 0 is no access to feelings and 10 is overwhelmed by feelings all the time. Whether we find it easy to feel or to express our feelings may change over time. When I was young, for instance, I decided I wasn’t going to be like my mother – who had a very different feeling style to me. Under-feeling and over-feeling will be responses to our own complex histories, and may include some adaptive strategies that have been helpful to us. We may also have outgrown defences that no longer serve us.

Are you the person who feels, in a family who seem to be oblivious to their pain? Perhaps you are the one who cries when the latest disaster statistic is mentioned on the news and no-one else appears to blink? How is it to feel so sensitive? Is this fragility or strength? Do you cloak your softness in tough armour? Do you create a persona that is unapproachable to disguise your tender heart?

Or are you at the other end of the feeling spectrum? Perhaps you are one of those who seem to have lost the ability to feel? Maybe something happened long ago, and you decided that it wasn’t safe to feel? Perhaps the only defence that was possible for you was to fight? As a child, did you have no choice but to disconnect, to freeze out the feelings that made you vulnerable, or split off a part of yourself in order to survive?

Whether you recognise yourself in one or the other ends of this spectrum, or somewhere in between, at a Grief Tending workshop, people may begin to look behind the strategies they have developed. Sometimes people feel safe enough to take off their masks – the necessary protective shields they wear in public. I feel privileged to have seen so many people show their un-curated selves, so different to their ‘shiny’ social media appearances.

It is extraordinary to witness long hidden truths, and real expressions of feeling. The perception is often that if my shell is cracked, I will be seen to be broken. But what often happens is that we see how each of us feels inside, which evokes our compassion. We all have places that are vulnerable – where we have been wounded, or feel unworthy. What changes everything is when we see that we are not alone in our imperfections.

Sometimes if we are willing to crack ourselves open, to look inside and process the experience, there may be strength that comes in its wake. Although I would never wish the impacts of developmental trauma on anyone, the ‘trauma growth’ that often strengthens us after we have been through our troubles, (whatever they may be) can be a gift. Working through our pain, can allow us to connect with insights, to cultivate meaning alongside the grief.

Come and explore you are on the feeling spectrum at a Grief tending workshop. You can find our next events and links to book them here.

20 Apr The Red of My Blood

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‘The Red of My Blood: A Death and Life Story’ tells the story of the first year of grief. Clover Stroud writes about mourning the death of her sister. She captures the paradox of being both with deep feelings and the continuation of everyday family life; where children need feeding and attending to.

Clover Stroud writes her loss from the inside out. With metaphor and through her senses, we are invited into her inner world. She shows us glimpses of the pain of losing a sibling in middle age.

It is easy to misconstrue Kubler-Ross’s 5 Stages of Grief (plus Kessler’s = 6) as following each in neat order, but Stroud reminds us: “The path alongside death is crooked, remember. There are no consequential stages which happen one after the other, neatly, like dominoes falling.”

I love the permission that Stroud’s memoir gives to recognise the depth of love that mirrors the loss, in relationship with her sister. The death of a partner or child is seen as very significant, but grief follows in the wake of the death of anyone we love, as well as an infinite range of other life situations. “The truth is that the death and therefore loss of someone you love deeply is so awful you have to rearrange your brain dramatically to survive it.”

Writing during 2020, the pandemic adds an additional layer, as Stroud describes collective loss through lens of home schooling and changes in meeting with friends.

Describing grief as an “active verb”, Clover allows us into her own process. She sometimes faces towards the inevitability of death, and also the desire to escape from the reality that “none of us are getting out of here alive,” (to quote Nanea Hoffman via Stroud).

For me, through reading and feeling alongside the hurt of grief allows me to practice stretching my heart muscles. If you are currently inside your own experience of deep grief, Clover Stroud’s beautiful words may be able to reach out to tenderly hold your hand in recognition. She tells of her rituals and strategies, that allow her to begin to alchemise pain when it feels impossible. “The shrine of hard little objects were things to clasp, when the caverns of loss opened up and life felt as if it was sliding out of reach.”

Follow link for next Grief Tending events.

08 Mar Grief Tending is a Way to Care for Our Broken Hearts

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‘Grief Tending is a Way to Care for Our Broken Hearts’ was originally published as an article for FOYHT.

Why do we need Grief Tending?

Leaning into how we feel, giving time and attention to our emotions, can be a helpful way to process loss. In Grief Tending we do this by sharing with and witnessing others.

In many contemporary cultures, youth is prized. Social media tempts us to show only our best selves, and people often try to think positively in the face of difficulty. It’s easy to forget that our lives are part of a natural cycle, that has limits. There are beginnings and endings, as well as challenges and triumphs in between. Celebrating the ups with friends and family is welcome, but allowing space for our lows with others is more uncommon. Our expressions of grief are often hidden away in private.

Who would benefit from Grief Tending?

A Grief Tending event can offer us the space to be seen and heard without any pressure to solve or mend how we feel.

People often think that grief is reserved for the bereaved. But life brings us many curved balls and transitions, as well as the deaths of people you love. Every loss is significant, and may make us feel tender.

While some people come to a Grief Tending workshop with a broken heart, others may be dealing with depression, or be dealing with layers of disappointment, regret, absence, overwhelm or fear. It isn’t necessary to bring a specific loss to benefit from having time, in a supportive group workshop.

Grief and trauma recovery

Grief is a whole landscape of feelings that may include anxiety, anger, guilt, relief and numbness, amongst many other responses. It is an individual journey that doesn’t necessarily follow a neat route through the Stages of Grief originally proposed by Elizabeth Kübler-Ross.

Many cultures have had ways to be with grief, but others have lost the elders and knowledge to show us ways to digest our pain. Grief Tending is one kind of grief work, that brings together wisdom from different traditions and teachers including Sobonfu Somé , Francis Weller, Joanna Macy, and Martin Prechtel.

Current research and theories about trauma recovery provide a new understanding of what happens when we don’t have mechanisms to deal with trauma and grief. Gabor Maté sums this up in his recent film ‘The Wisdom of Trauma’,

“Trauma involves a lifelong pushing down, a tremendous expenditure of energy, and to not feeling the pain. As we heal, that same energy is liberated for life and for being in the present. So, the energy of trauma can be transformed into the energy of life.”

Gabor Maté

What does Grief Tending involve?

Grief Tending events happen both online and in person. A short 4 Hour event will allow someone to dip into the experience, whereas in a longer event there is more time to unfold complex stories. A ‘trauma-sensitive’ group will allow participants to work with the exercises in their own way. Groups include guided practices to connect and soothe, as well as a central part where feelings might come forward.

A workshop can be a powerful shared experience, that can help us to bear our suffering. In a group we may learn how to be with others’ losses too. Participants witness one another, and may find more kindness for themselves and others. This approach to working with grief works well along-side other therapeutic approaches.

Finding the balance between grief and support

When we are settled enough, with some support in place, it is possible to begin to explore grief. Finding support is necessary in order to work with our difficult edges. But we need to have balance in life, to spend time doing the things that we love, remember the people who inspire us, and the places that nourish us too.

In Grief Tending, we encourage connecting with support before and after gently approaching grief. In this way, some of our ‘energy of life’, may resurface. When we dare to face our feelings, it can reconnect us with ourselves, and those around us.

More about Grief Tending and upcoming workshops.

05 Jan Belonging

Posted at 11:52h in Sarah's Journal by admin 0 Comments

When I have experience deep personal grief, it feels as though there is a sheet of glass between me and the rest of the world. When life is presenting us with challenges, it’s easy to feel shut out of everyday life. Especially when everyone else seems to be having fun, this can feel alienating. Communal times of celebration like seasonal festivals amplify absence, and can add stress from other people’s expectations of jollity, social or family pressures.

In her explorations into Healthy Human Culture, Sophy Banks describes the “conditions for health as being: empowered, resourced, valued, safe and connected.” For me, the yearning for belonging is a hunger for these needs to be met.

Feeling like an outsider can be especially painful, especially if your authentic expression is not welcome in a particular group. If you are involuntarily alone, or without enough support, or part of a marginalised group, this can add an additional layer of grief at these times.

For a variety of reasons which include social restrictions, scarcity/cost of venues, reduced income/higher costs of living, lack of volunteers, many of the community groups where I used to feel a sense of belonging have not been able to meet in person. Ongoing groups of people who share values or activities are a much-needed part of the social net which holds us. The waning of community groups may return after the current wave of pandemic infections, but we will still have to bridge the divides which have sprung up to between people polarised by different preferences and viewpoints.

Making ourselves vulnerable builds intimacy, holding the capacity to sit with different opinions, where all of us is welcome, and speaking from our own experience including uncomfortable subjects, are ways to bring people together. Grief Tending meets this need, to meet with others, to find belonging.

A Grief Tending group is one place where I can rely on feeling included. So, as we cross the threshold into another year, we wish you well, and may you find places where you feel a sense of belonging, whatever you are dealing with.

For Grief Tending events coming up both online and in person, follow this link.

19 Oct ‘The Day That Went Missing – A Family’s Story’ by Richard Beard.

Posted at 15:30h in Book Reviews by admin 0 Comments

‘The Day That Went Missing: A Family Tragedy’ is a book in which Richard Beard explores of one tragedy in one family. It is also a tale of a very common survival strategy to avoid the pain of trauma. He unpicks threads in the circumstances that surrounded his brother’s death. In particular he begins to unwind linear ‘explicit’ memories of witnesses, and excavate more unpredictable ‘implicit’ memory fragments lodged in his body as “a definite physical memory.”

In examining the defences of his family, he recognises that “our project of denial has been a life time’s work.” In this very introspective enquiry, he shows us how these adaptive parts are gradually formed in the absence of space for the expression of grief. “…children and grandparents formulated a response to a world of unreasonable sorrow. We played Scrabble.” He spirals in towards the central happening where, “I limp and run, and the wounded noise keeps rising and has nothing to do with my leg. The noise is inarticulate pain, grief that doesn’t know how to express itself.”

I felt my heart ache for his younger self, shut down in the face of tragedy, “Snap out of it! In that definingly English phrase, pull yourselves together. We could not accept in 1978 in Swindon, the notion of legitimate emotional trauma. We didn’t respect emotion as a useful human response.”

So many who seek out grief tending bring disconnection – which may have served them well as a survival compensation, but may now separate them from self and others.

Richard Beard’s experience speaks to wider themes such as ‘boarding school trauma,’ and the culturally pervasive tendency for disconnection from “any emotional disturbance,” popularised through maintaining a ‘stiff upper lip’.

Splitting off from pain can be problematic, and for those wielding social and economic power others may pay the cost. Beard describes the mechanism by which “we were encouraged to dismiss our feelings for ourselves, and so lost the ability to feel for others.” This is a book that looks under the carpet of privilege and the cost of maintaining a social image at the expense of the people involved.

20 Jun This Grief Thing

Posted at 20:11h in Culture Reviews by admin 0 Comments

Sam Butler and David Harradine of ‘Fevered Sleep’ have devised and produced ‘This Grief Thing’

“This Grief Thing is a project that encourages people to think, talk and learn about grief.”

Their billboard caught my eye last week as I walked along Dalston Lane. They have curated a number of talks on grief themes, as well as other projects that stir people to engage with the theme.

Tony and I visited their market stall in Brick Lane where Julie, Sam and David folded T shirts and sweltered in the heat like all the other market traders. Poised for spontaneous interactions, the presence of the stall caught the eye of people walking past. As people browsed hoodies and T shirts, conversations were encouraged with the curious. I remembered my days on the Narrow Way initiating random conversations with strangers in the Hackney is Friendly project.

The market stall is full of merchandise designed to open conversations with ordinary people to normalise talking about loss. Brilliant and simple, their slogans champion a way to engage with someone who may feel ill-equipped to mourn, or to respond to someone who is grieving.

“Don’t panic if I cry,” printed on a red T-shirt particularly appealed to me. We left with “Let me be sad” badges, and some other swag. I shall wear them, ready to see what communication it provokes, hoping to spread their mission of everyday encounters that unlock the taboo around the subject of grief.

28 Apr Funeral Weather

Posted at 15:16h in Sarah's Journal by admin 0 Comments

There is no stated dress code for this funeral. It is being held for an octogenarian, so perhaps formal is best. But it was a life lived well and long, so perhaps a flourish of colour to acknowledge their well-played ‘innings’.

I settle for my mother’s home-made in the 1950’s black velvet coat, and a bright shawl. The coat has no buttons – I wonder to myself whether it is because button-holes were and still are a chore to make, even with my clever sewing machine. Instead I clutch it closed over my winter dress, which conceals thermal underwear, and step into the misty morning. Today I eschew pink fur hat, dog paraphernalia and hiking boots.

Our car has stayed put on our street over winter. On opening, I discover it is cultivating a spread of green mould. Despite the cold, we drive with open windows hoping to dry out the atmosphere. We skirt around the metropolis to what seems another world, way beyond the reaches of my lockdown-beaten-bounds.

I notice fresher air, fewer people, and struggle to use the car park payment system. I perch in the cold to eat my sandwich lunch, made at breakfast time in my familiar kitchen. I regret that the carefully prepared thermos, is still sitting on the kitchen worktop.

Outside the church, selected representatives from different strands of the well-loved deceased’s life negotiate greeting. Do we bump elbows or wave? Coming together for this rite of passage without the rituals of touch adds another layer of discomfort. My expressions of warmth and care are lost beneath my mask. I try a twitching eyebrow to make connection. My words feel lame. I wince overhearing another grapple with a genuinely offered “Sorry for your loss.”

We stumble through new rituals of sanitising hands, registering our contact details for ‘Track and Trace’. Alternate pews are blocked off with red tape. We sit in isolated pods, at least a pew away from backs hunched in sorrow. The choir of three sing hums at a distance while we stay mute. An inspiring eulogy and readings are given in the traditional British manner – words regimented over emotions that sometimes crack through.

But to my delight, in lavish and beautiful gestures, the British Sign Language interpreter brings real poetry with their embodied expression of the solemn words spoken. My tears roll in response to this direct communication of all that this event means, in this time.

Outside again, rain hammers down and draws our distanced conversations to a close. I miss my usual rain-proof jacket, return to the car with hair, coat and shawl soaked. The car steams. I sense the mould perk up, quietly continuing its life cycle.