Content Warning: The following story deals with themes and a personal narrative about grief and mortality. Doane offers free counseling for students. Additionally, the National suicide hotline, 988, can be reached at any time. You are not alone.
Hello devoted readers. Now this isn’t like my normal hottakes, but instead it’s something I believe isn’t discussed as it should be. Pain. We have all experienced it in one way or another. Whether you skinned your knee falling off your bike when you were younger, or if you got a piercing or a tattoo, or maybe a major surgery that left you with scars.
But there is one form of pain that no one talks about. One that goes unnoticed. Grief. If you have never experienced grief before, gosh, I wish I could be in your shoes right about now. But grieving something is not just you being sad all the time.
Grief is the random breakdowns in your car, room, bathroom, etc. Grief is the flashbacks you get at the most random times of the day. Grief is stalking their social media as if they were still here on this Earth. Grief is isolating yourself or finding ways to numb the pain. Grief is dreaming that the person came back. Grief is feeling sad one day, and yet your day went just fine, while others spent it sobbing on the floor.
Everyone grieves differently. I get that. But sometimes I question why it is easier for others to get over something faster than I can, even though we experienced it at the same time.
But maybe grief isn’t something we are meant to “get over,” but instead it’s something we learn to carry. Some people carry it quietly, while others carry it loudly. Some let it shape them, while others try to outrun it.
I have realized that grief doesn’t move in a straight line, but instead shows up uninvited. It lingers in weird and ordinary moments. It hides itself in songs, places and memories that you sometimes don’t realize. Then there are times when grief feels like petrichor, which is the earthy smell after it rains. The storm is over, yet the smell proves that it happened.
Maybe that’s what grief really is. Not something to rush through, nor a constant state of sadness. But instead, it’s love that does not know where to go anymore. And instead of asking why it’s easier for others, we also need to remember that healing isn’t a race. It’s personal. Messy. Even unpredictable. But at the end of the day, it’s ours.
So if you’re grieving, whether it is a person, a relationship, or even a version of yourself, remember to give yourself grace. The rain may have stopped, but the petrichor is still there. And that doesn’t mean you’re broken, it just shows that whatever you’re grieving about, it mattered.
