Grieving to Heal
By: Dr. Truesdell, Dr. Tea
Tags: Spiritual Growth, Grief, Higher Education, Academic Recovery, Healing

Image by monicore from Pixabay

Grieving at the altar

Altars are magical spaces and places. They allow us to focus our attention, channel our energies, and give honor, respect and celebration depending on the purpose of that altar. From personal altars that allow you to connect to yourself, to ancestor altars that help you connect with and communicate with your dead, to prosperity altars that help us channel an abundant mindset and energy, altars are the portals we need for prayer and ritual.

It was at my personal and ancestral altars that I really began to heal through grief.

I grieved the loss of my father 12 years prior, who died suddenly while I was far away at an academic conference. I stayed at the conference and slowly made my way home, not wanting to face the reality of his passing. I’d never really forgiven myself for not leaving the night it happened.

I grieved my body, having endured 20 years of chronic pain from playing a sport through my senior year of college that tore my back and mind apart. I grieved my body’s cycles of ballooning and shrinking from the chronic stress of academic expectations and exploitations.

I grieved my marriage, sitting with the fact that I had moved my family across the country and overseas to chase jobs and positions that sparkled, only to quickly fade. It took away so much of my time and mental space, removing me from the home and people who cared about me.

I grieved my pregnancy and giving birth, and how my body went through 8 months of sickness followed by 12 months of recovery -- all because my pain and cries were ignored due my stature and Blackness by both my doctors and bosses.

I had learned to deal with pain so much that I did not know who I was without it. As I released this grief, light began to replace it. Possibilities opened up that I had never imagined, and I began to hear my own inner voice again — just like I did when I was Young Nicole, the aspiring writer, who wrote plays and short stories in the middle of the night for fun.

I began to pick up my pen again — not for a journal article, to prep a new class, or write another not-going-to-be read annual report that was due. I began to pick up my pen and play with words again, twisting them in different ways to see what could happen. Enjoying what the combinations of letters could do to/for my emotions, the conjure that emerged with each pen stroke to the page — each letter typed on the document.

This healing journey has also brought out the kid in me, helping to heal her, too.

All of this emerged at my altar.

For me, I found that I needed healing of who I was in order to accept who I am becoming: someone more bold and sure of herself. Someone who does not need to attach her worth to what institutions expect her to produce. These are the same institutions that have made it clear that we’re all expendable and replaceable, no matter how much we pour ourselves into their service.

I’ve come to know myself better, embracing aspects I had previously shunned in order to avoid standing out. It was in the woods and at this altar that I allowed the box to open wide and roar loud!