Save Your Grief For Later
- Amanda
- Apr 13, 2018
- 4 min read

Before I begin, I want to preface this article by saying that bottling your emotions often or for extended periods of time is harmful. It will come back to haunt you with a vengeance at the most inopportune time. I encourage you to save your grief for later, not forever. There is a key difference between being in charge of your emotions and pretending they don't exist - and the former is incredibly difficult. But having been through (what I hope to be) the most difficult emotional experience of my life, I've had my share of practice.
I am a cryer. I always have been, I always will be. When I speak about something that I'm passionate about, I cry. When I make a mistake at work, I cry. When I watch a military homecoming video or a compilation of kids getting puppies for Christmas, I all out sob like there's no tomorrow.
Sidenote: If anyone has tips on how to cry without looking like the Kim K meme I am all ears.
I am a cryer, but crying in front of people sends me into a panic state. During the first few weeks of grieving, it was an integrated part of my life. I was on autopilot and frankly don't remember half of the things I said or half of the people I encountered. But as I progressed through this journey and people continued to pull me aside and asked how I was doing with the sheer look of pity and remorse, I would feel as if I was drowning and needed to succumb to my pain, then panic, then change the subject at the speed of light. I would need to spend a seemingly infinite amount of time there after recovering from each attack.
It was toxic and made grieving an overwhelmingly negative experience. I associated my tears with agony. But on the flip side if I didn't cry, I would feel judged as if I wasn't sad enough and wasn't responding properly to the fact that I had just lost my sister. Carrying on like this drove my anxiety to sky high levels. It caused migraines, knots in my chest, and it took my focus off of anything productive I planned on accomplishing. Even in a space where talking about Lauren was encouraged like my LOSS support group or counseling, if I opened up about my sister and began to cry, I would lose the ability to say exactly what I felt and it left me remorseful on the missed oppurtunity of speaking my mind - maybe that is another reason that I'm so drawn to writing.
But when I am in my car or alone at my apartment and feel safe to let it all out, grieving becomes the most rejuvenating and freeing experience. There is no one to awkwardly try to hug me or stop my tears with words of encouragement - there is only me and my sister (and usually my dog who is blissfully ignorant of the situation entirely.) And when I come out of my ugly sobbing episode, I can carry on with my day as if nothing ever happened.
As my journey continued, when I felt myself beginning to get emotional in a public situation, I shut down entirely. I would book a conference room in the farthest corner of my office in favor of my desk. I would leave the room I was sitting in with my mom. I would stop talking and stare at a spec of dust on a table. I would complain of my horrendous allergy attacks to someone who knew nothing about my situation. I shoved every ounce of my grief in a tiny bottle and screwed the cap on with the force of God.
But months of suffering, a few YouTube videos, yoga, and a book later, I found ways to take charge of my emotions. It's all about breathing.
If I feel the water works turning on, I take a breath and say in my mind "You are not your emotions" and almost instantly the dreadful feelings goes away. As I exhale I visualize my breath pushing away stormy clouds to reveal a bright blue sky. I know that may seem silly - but as a left-handed, right-brain dominant, visual person, it has yet to fail me. I will earmark that moment in my mind and promise myself and my sister that I will come back to it later in my own space and on my own time.
It has taken some time but I also have begun accepting the fact that people will take my way of grieving in whatever way they see it. And there is not a damn thing I can do about that. As a people-pleaser by nature and nurture, acceptance is a daunting task but a necessary one. It will take some time and patience to fully live my life for myself and only myself, but every day is a new oppurtunity to try a little harder.
There is absolutely nothing wrong with crying in public and if you are able to do with without the anxiety that accompanies it - I commend you and wish I had that trait. But I know from experience that you are a crowd of few.
To the suicide grievers and Kim K sobbers, I encourage you to do whatever you can that will help you take charge of your emotions. Or trash this article if it doesn't resonate. Be kind and patient to those who offer you comfort and support, but more importantly be kind and be patient to yourself.
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