You Have Permission to Heal
Even If Your Grief Is Hidden
You have permission to heal.
I first heard this concept in the context of infertility. It’s a strange world to be in, the world of infertility, one with way more questions than answers, and one with this bizarre form of ongoing grief that constantly feels misunderstood.
Maybe I hold on to the grief because it’s all I have left of the babies I thought I’d raise. Maybe it’s because I’ll always wonder if I should have done something different. Or maybe it has just been a pattern for so long, it feels like part of my being.
I know this struggle isn’t confined to infertility. It shows up in the loss of relationships, and the loss of dreams, and in the general confusion of life.
About a year ago, I left a job that I had thought was going to be the Real Deal. I knew at that point what was important to me, and what I brought to the table, and on paper, it looked like everything was going to line up. It never did, though. Our theory was smart, but it was a mirage. It looked so real on approach but evaporated on arrival.
Mostly, I think it served its purpose in my life, which was to help me move forward. I think I’d been holding on to the idea of what it could be for so long, that in order for me to move forward, I needed God and life to pry open my grasping fingers and push me forward.
But I’m a fixer, and it drove me crazy that I couldn’t fix it. I felt guilty, even though my boss told me not to. I felt like I wasn’t allowed to grieve because it had ultimately been my choice, and therefore that grief went untended, occasionally rising to the surface, but mostly staying deep in my gut.
No one made me feel the way I felt. Virtually everyone was supportive. I was the one holding myself back from healing.
I know not everyone has that kind of support, so I started to think, who else in my life might feel like they don’t have permission to heal? The friend whose choices are judged by those not close enough to the situation to know better? The friend who lost the love of her life way too soon, who didn’t have the title of “wife” to legitimize her grief in the eyes of others? The friend whose soul is being crushed not by crisis, but by the weight of her daily life?
Each and every one is so worthy of healing. But first, each and every one is so worthy of grieving, if that’s what their soul needs to do.
And you, friend? What is holding you back from owning your grief, and wholeheartedly pursuing your own healing?
You hold the permission slip. Only you can give that permission, and only you can receive it.
Regardless of how you got here, you have permission to heal.
Even if you made mistakes, you have permission to heal.
Even if other people are holding on to hurt, you have permission to heal.
Even if you could have done more, you have permission to heal.
And even if the grief is all you have left, may you find acceptance, and receive your permission to heal.
