For me, grief has always been capitalized with a laaaarge resounding “G.” I know what grief feels like, I have felt it almost every day of my life. With witnessing murder, the tragic death of my brother and losing family members to their substance use disorders… I felt like a grief veteran.
That is why on May 20, 2020, I had such a confusing and devastating internal reaction. On this day, I was supposed to graduate with my Master’s Degree from a World-Renowned Ivy League Institution. I believed that I had already radically accepted what was going on. I live across the country from my family so I wouldn’t have a large group while I walked across the stage, anyway. I thought it would be fine. I was proud of all that I had accomplished during my time in school.
That morning, though, I felt the furthest from fine. My partner was at work because she works hard as an essential worker in New York City. Instead of waking up next to family, flowers and cutesy cupcakes with grad caps on them… I was alone. I sat on the couch and stared at the turned-off TV for about an hour. I couldn’t really pinpoint what was happening inside. But I knew it hurt.
After allowing myself to feel, and letting myself really go there (which sucks to do, most of the time), I realized that I did not feel seen. I was grieving what this day was supposed to look like for me. Of course, I was still proud of making it to where I am today. From homelessness, addiction, eating disorders… you name it, I have made it to the other side. I am extremely proud of that. Still, I grieved the gladness I was supposed to feel walking across the Columbia University stage.
I wanted to feel seen.
I wanted to feel like someone other than myself was proud.
I wanted to show how hard I had worked to be here.
I wanted to feel like it was all worth it.
Instead, I watched my commencement on a laptop with some of my closest friends. Sadly, my school did not call my name out during the ceremony... and that was a shot to the heart. I grieved that, also.
What I learned from this, though, is that not all grief is capital “G” grief. Some grief is sneaky, covert and hides inward until you’re ready to finally name it for what it is. It can be confusing, especially when trauma has taught you that only high intensity emotions are real. It is hard to pinpoint when trauma made you think that numbness is more comfortable than feelings.
Am I still grieving? I believe I will always be grieving something. But I am proud that I can pinpoint this experience as a lowercase “g” grief, acknowledge it and move forward.