Loss   6/25/25

This year in April I experienced a painful loss.

Previously, I learned about the period of disorientation that follows a death but was not prepared for my own experience.  I was submerged in intense emotions, but didn’t connect the deluge of feelings with loss. Nor did I understand what was flooding into my brain. Neurochemicals.

“Neurological effects of loss on the brain is characterized by an overload of grief-related thoughts, which can lead to difficulties in memory, concentration, and cognition. After a significant loss, the brain releases neurochemicals similar to those involved in stress responses, impacting mental functions. This phenomenon can make individuals feel forgetful, spacey, or unable to make sound decisions as they navigate their grief.”

When it was happening, I had none of this information.

 For the first month, I withdrew from all personal contact with the exception of going to the barn to care for my horse.

I isolated, slept a lot, and immersed in self-criticism. I was embarrassed to talk about it as I had no words for what was happening. It was painful not understanding why I couldn’t just pull out of it. However, in the midst of my isolation, the time alone became one long meditation.  I discovered aspects of myself that had remained hidden, some were even treasures.

Many were not. At one point, I felt physically horrible and thought maybe I’m dying. Following on its heels was the thought, “If I die right now, I’m really going to be pissed for leaving this earth in such a bad mood!” (Humor pokes her head up at the weirdest times.)

After over a month of what felt like brain fog and ill health, a friend told me to look up Grief Brain. What I found was the description quoted above. I was stunned! I was reading the description of what I had been going through for weeks on end. The words allowed me to wrap my mind around the events of the nearly two months. It was a great relief.

I am still misted in the residue of some of those feelings but as I emerge, I sense a tectonic shift in the way I see the world. First, I am soaked in compassion for those who have lost a loved one. Secondly, I feel my heart has opened in a way I never expected. I’m filled with gratitude and love and a growing sense how we are all connected.

My words for 2025 were Kindness and Mystery. My life lessons never come from being comfortable and never originate in my mind. My body holds a wisdom and truth in the feelings and sensations I experience. I am slowly learning to trust.

I sure hope this story makes sense.

Holy cow, what a ride!