Metaphors in Grief
I wrote this in September 2021. It was sent to the readers of the CHEW emails… but in marking the 3 year anniversary, it feels like time to share it with the wider world… in case it helps. x
Year of the Dog
I know it has been a long while sine I last wrote. 2021 for me became the Year of the Dog. My dog. My Hinton. He was given an unexpected diagnosis of cancer back in January and only days or maybe weeks to live. Life went on hold while I focused on supporting him and healing from the shock of the news… it was in every sense traumatic.
Incredibly he made it to July, got to celebrate his 6th birthday and we made yet more incredible memories before we said goodbye at the end of the month. He was woven into every piece of my life – personal and professional. The presence of his absence is huge.
Some people post to Social Media straight away. I couldn’t. It was too painful, too private. It has taken me this long into my own grieving process to be ready and able to let you know he’s gone.
A True Story
I was sitting beside a small, working harbour one afternoon in August. I had gone away with a friend for a while. I needed to see the sea. Still exhausted from 8 months of interrupted sleep caring for him, as well as the weight and energy the initial phase of grieving was taking, I was happy to just sit and watch the world carry on. Seagulls swooped. Tourists swung lines for crabs. Locals sat outside their favourite bars and cafes, and the sun was shining. I felt the gentle breeze on my face. I could smell the nourishing elixir of sea-salt air. I was hearing all the noises and none of them. My eyes settled on one of the boats in the harbour in front of me.
The tide was out and I could see it all. It was exposed. Bereft. Vulnerable. It’s buoyancy had gone. The thing that surrounded and brought it life was gone. This fishing boat was stuck – and stuck on a severe tilt. The single keel was firmly embedded in the soft mud and a few strings of bright green seaweed were caught against it. As I looked at this boat – such a common sight in the everydayness of life in that part of the world – I saw myself.
“I feel like that.” I said to my friend sat silently on the bench with me. “That boat feels like a metaphor for me right now.”
“Eh?”
“I feel stuck and like the thing that was giving me life has gone… and I have absolutely no idea when it will be back. I’m not stable and upright – I’m not safe for other people to come and clamber into my space at the moment.”
“Aah, I see. That’s pretty profound.”
“Well, that’s how I feel.” It didn’t feel profound to me – I trained as a creative arts therapist and learnt the language and power of metaphor many, many years ago.
We continued starring at this boat among many – some more balanced with double keels, others smaller and without any keel, so not on such a great angle.
All ‘my’ boat could do was wait. Just be. Just ‘be’ stuck. ‘Be’ without the life giving energy it needed to do it’s job… or do anything. ‘Be’ on its angle so others couldn’t clamber on board. Just be. I took a breath as I identified with the need for yet more ‘being’ for me. I had little energy to do anything else. It was OK to wait with my boat.
Trickle
And then some truth trickled in. At some point… not knowing when, slowly and gently, that boat would rise again. Life would come back again. Gradually. Buoyancy and function and balance and movement. There would be more stories for this boat… at some point. Although it seemed impossible to imagine that for me at that moment, I tentatively held on to the truth that the sea would come back… at some point. At some point the boat would rise again.
A few weeks on and that metaphor is still a powerful one for me. Metaphors – when they resonate with our subconscious ARE powerful. They help us see our present more clearly. They can bring us clarity and new perspective on the future.
And we don’t have to be in a place of deep pain or significant life change to benefit…. We just have to be willing to be open and honest enough to ask the question – what does my life feel like right now? Sometimes the answer comes from inside, or like me… you could be staring at it.
Take care of you and those around you.
Cx
Claire Wilson is a trauma therapist, behaviour and nervous system specialist with 3 decades of clinical experience. An internationally acclaimed communicator, TEDx speaker, writer and initiative maker. Her book Grounded was the first book published making Polyvagal Theory accessible to normal, non-sciency people, and is now being translated into 6 languages. She is the founder of GROUNDED GrownUps® and the GROUNDED Parent Retreat®. She maintains a private practice, International coaching community and consultations for parents, charities & business owners to help increase their impact by going beyond trauma-informed to trauma-safe.
A sought-after international specialist, and consistent advocate for the voiceless, Claire has been instrumental in getting the world to be significantly safer for children and adults who have experienced trauma. There is still much to do…
claire@groundedgrownups.com
