Grief is a Crafty Fucker

My latest writing project is a book divulging my journey to creating a thriving single life in the aftermath of escaping a cult that conditioned me for marriage and family.

The past few days, I’ve been working on a section in my book recounting a betrayal I experienced in the church. It took me at least two days to notice the correlation between writing this story and the decrease in energy I’ve been experiencing during each day I’ve been writing.

As I write, my body grieves.

It has been years since I experienced this betrayal, but the pain of it still lingers in my bones. I am sad mostly for how the betrayal impacted my recovery journey, the recovery journey I'd invested so much in and worked so hard for. It's a reminder that no matter how much work we do, the body heals when the body heals. 

It heals with time, it heals with an empathetic listener, it heals with embodied care. 

It heals when we remember, whenever those memories arise. However those memories arise. Whether they arise in actual thoughts, or in our bodies' exhaustion while we write about sad things. 

Sometimes you think you've done all the grieving you can do. Then, years later, the grief sneaks up on you. It tap, tap, taps on your chest, as if to announce, "I'm still here." 

It's okay. It's really okay. Grief is the most human thing, and many of us have loads of it. This time around, my body needed some gentle yoga and sleeping all day on Sunday. It needed to laugh at a funny movie and goof off with my friends. It needed me to see and believe it's okay to be sad about things that feel like long ago. 

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If you'd like an empathetic listener to your own healing journey, reach out at katherinespearing.com/coaching