Seven Days of Grief

A Week Dedicated To Nourishing My Grief

This essay is a longer, more in-depth compilation of the seven day post series “A week dedicated to nourishing my grief” that I shared on the Mourning Light Divination Instagram page from June 26th - July 2nd, 2023. I wanted to showcase through “real-time” examples that nourishing grief looks very different from one person to the next. I also thought it might be helpful to discuss some of the ways I have learned to tend to the sacred space grief creates. I hope you find something that inspires or supports you in some way.

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Day One: I took the time to make pancakes for breakfast.

I have learned that grief creates a peculiar sacred space that is unique unto itself. It can be filled with many things like sorrow, love, gratitude, anger, heartbreak, disappointment, and other feelings that often tag along with or mask themselves as grief. Grief can be “I’ll never get out of bed” or “I want to die” but it can also be “I never noticed the way the shadowy lights of twilight touch the tops of the trees” because whether we like to explore it or not, grief ultimately softens us. Or at least, it can.

If we let it.

When my first loved one died, I moved too fast. Since the night I got the unexpected and horrible phone call that he had overdosed, I put on a brave face. The day of his funeral I pulled the black top over my head, one arm through the black blazer and then the other. Put makeup on like it was just another day. I was trying to get through the motions. Just trying to get through the funeral. Just trying to get through the week. Then the year. Then the first anniversary. I didn’t even cry at the funeral. I hugged classmates I hadn’t seen since high school, each familiar face heavy, knowing how much this hurt for me. Everyone knew our platonic love was larger-than-life and although I looked put together, I knew that they knew I was dying inside. I was working at my parents coffeehouse at the time and I remember walking in for my shift to find old friends waiting for me. They had heard the news. I tried to put on my brave face but I just couldn’t sustain it anymore. I broke down, finally.

Once I had started to really digest the reality of what had happened, I became the opposite of the rapid tempo I had suddenly adapted to. I started moving slower, too heavy with grief to make quick movements now. The grief of losing my person, it acknowledged all the other grief I had been carrying around in my life. It said “I see you” and suddenly my current grief and all my past grief were in a healing circle together. It was here in the circle I learned how to tend. I learned how to stay, even with the pain. Even with the anxiety. No doubt, I had thought about dying, even more so than I normally had in my life, but all my past and future selves created a tighter, more intimate circle and I knew I couldn't leave them in their grief. I didn’t want to leave them in their grief, or myself, it was that I just wanted my person back.

Being heavy in grief has taught me how to give myself permission to experience joy and thus, how to find more joy in life. It became almost a survival tactic - finding joy in a new existence, a new life that didn’t include my person in a physical, earthly sense. Giving myself permission started to feel like tending and that tending started to feel luxurious and sweet. It helped me realize that I had been previous pretty bad at receiving joy. The more I tended, the more magic I found in the present moment until my present self was able to say “I see you and I’ve got you” to all my other selves, recognizing we deserve to be taken care of. Grief has taught me that not only am I allowed to take time with myself, it is necessary for a full and embodied life.

As my ode to day one, I took the time to make pancakes for breakfast, something I found that brings me joy - a real total accidental find. I used to be the kind of person who thought that taking dedicated time to make say, pancakes in the morning, or a luxurious meal, was something that I wasn’t allowed. I wasn’t allowed to be lavish or take my time with things (aka other people's narratives mixed in with my own self pressures). Making pancakes in the morning makes me slow down. It has me doing “action movements” with my body and whispering sweet nothings into the batter. It has me creating something out of love for myself and it soothes my tender feels. I’ve also perfected the recipe, so I know hat to expected. Comfort that we know helps, like a favorite movie we’ve seen times before or an album dear to our hearts. When we’re heavy in grief, having something that is guaranteed to have the outcome we know can sometimes be helpful to our watery foundations.

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Day Two: Showered to help with physical pain and got cookies for emotional pain.

Chronic health flares are not new to me. I have lived with a chronically ill body my whole life, one that I have been fighting and trying to heal what feels like forever. I go through periods of being pessimistic and apathetic, feeling like there’s nothing I can do. My motivation comes in waves and I’m still figuring out exactly what I need and how best to go about it. To no surprise, it gets worse when I am heavy in grief and I know I’m not the only one in this entire universe who has experienced physical pain related to grief. Sometimes I wonder if some of my own life long chronic pain is related to life long grief I’ve been carrying, from inside my mothers womb and beyond.

Since every day is a routine of managing symptoms and pain, I’ve gotten pretty good at knowing what helps. My toolkit has a lot of things to try at all times. I have found that being in water helps my chronic and grief-flared physical pain, whether that’s taking a shower, a bath, or putting my hands and feet in a river or lake. Water is so cleansing that I truly feel like it takes some of the pain from me. Its cleansing nature also helps me find some grounding - not to mention I run cold, so if I get the privilege to take a hot shower it is a total gift.

Something else that helps my emotional pains and struggles is comforting, delicious foods and beverages. It’s always been this way though I used to feel shame around my need for food, sweets and beverages for comfort, mostly due to a past of disordered eating, but not anymore. It’s a tough world already as a soul in a fleshy body and then you add all the other ridiculousness and hurt that life and death provide? It can just be a mess. So, I’ve decided that I’m going to find safe and non-harming comfort where I can. This comfort also includes texting my friends, phone dates, listening to my favorite songs, wrapping myself up in a blanket and lots of daydreaming. (In fact, daydreaming has been a manifestation tool I’ve really loved as of late. It helps to clarify life goals and certain deep desires within, which then provides a helpful blueprint to figure out how to ultimately reach those goals, etc).

I find the emotional comfort of food and drink, alongside other delights to be crucial for me to get through the day as well. There is so much grief when it comes to being in a body that is chronically ill, for a variety of reasons that are very unique and personal to each person. It is incredibly tough, to say the least. Sometimes it feels devastating and ultimately, there is no easy day, really. Just learning how to support oneself the best one can.

I wrote a poem titled My Holy Skin to describe some of my feelings living with chronic illness and my journey to loving my chronically ill body:

My chronically ill body is still a body. It requires food, water, touch, and spirit. My chronically ill body feels much more deeply and for a long time, I hated this. Hated how the rain almost made my teeth clench, how the change in weather caused the volume in my head to turn up way too loud. For a long time I hated how my arms moved and my hips swayed. Every sex on a stick look and catcall made me feel disgusting in my shame but my tired ill body could do nothing but sigh.

My chronically ill body feels much more deeply and now I understand there are gifts deep within my chronic pain, fatigue, and apathy. I move mountains with my attendance, tending to my grief and the other soft parts of my being. My slow movements tell a story of resurrection and the grit of patience within my bones. I might still be ill, though I am a quiet blooming flower with harsh thorns and exotic petals. I am a sweet pungent perfume, lingering on the cracked lips of lovers. I have learned when to hide and when to shine.

With every dramatic weather pattern, I become more embodied in my persephone-like body, half shadow, half bright. Observing my pain and celebrating my joy, I ignore the stares and stay grounded in me, letting my sensuality be a beacon of light — my garden compass gifted by lilith as the ever evolving snake. My chronically ill self is still me and I am still holy. I am the forbidden apple for I am the one who breaks my own chains. ~ Hannah Haddadi

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Day Three: Set boundaries that I had been avoiding for weeks.

Since I can remember, communicating my needs and boundaries has been an issue, thanks to my childhood, parts of my personality, trauma and the fear of being unsafe. There is grief in the experiences that have led to having this issue, but for the last eight years or so of my adult life, I have been working hard on this skill and making it a priority. I’m still not exactly where I’d love to be, but the more I communicate my feelings and needs without expectation put on the other person or people, the more my baby steps are turning into gigantic steps.

This year, unfortunately, there have been quite a few situations that have caused me a lot of grief. The main emotion I remembering feeling in the first though was anger and as someone who was born female at birth, I know that feminine rage well. Anger is an emotion that accompanies my grief a lot. Sometimes my anger likes to wear my grief like a constricting cloak and then all hell breaks loose inside my body because I can’t tell that the underlying emotion is actually grief. Until I take the time to process this out, I am a heavy burden of energy that radiates the fires of frustration. As someone who deals with chronic pain, I have found that anger exacerbates my pain and often causes a long and lingering flare. This sucks but it is great information. My anger adds to my physical pain and in order to process anger, grief and accompanying feelings, I often need either a) time alone or b) time with safe friends and people to process and unravel. The next action step for me after processing is to understand and learn what kinds of boundaries need to be put in place so I (hopefully) won’t feel so angry all the time

I can be really compassionate to people who have caused me grief but I can’t always repair right away, and that’s why it’s necessary to communicate my needs and boundaries to myself and the other person so that healing might be possible for us both. Just putting up the boundary can be a grief inducing thing, so I have found helpful to then communicate a care plan to myself. I did what I needed to do to start healing, but now what do I need to get grounded in myself again?

Some of my favorite boundary phrases include:

“I need space.”

“I need to take some time before I respond.”

“I don’t have the energy for this right now, let’s come back to it in a few days.”

I’m not always the best at communicating these in the moment where I really need to, but I am surely working on it. Boundaries can be hard because one doesn’t always know how the other person or people will respond and there’s always a risk in losing something: trust, an old dynamic, a certain person, partnership, friendship or parent, among many other possible things. Without the boundary though, the person who is at most risk is oneself to losing themselves and ultimately, risk to more harm.

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Day Four: Ordered books I wanted to read for pleasure from the library, not related to any type of inner/outer "work".

2023 has been the year that I have fallen in love with romance novels. Previously before this year it had been a really long time since I had read anything for pleasure that wasn’t related to some type of inner or outer work. I read a lot for my business, Mourning Light Divination, and for my own craft, spiritual practice and self development. In the midst of all of this, I forgot what it was like to truly read something for the pure fun of it. I have many friends who swear by romance novels and truly anytime they talked about them, I kind of internally mocked the idea. That was…until I humbled this year and now am officially obsessed. I always thought they were going to be Fabio-esque and really cheesy but in actuality, I’ve found a couple authors so far that write really well. The stories are cheesy at all and neither are the sexy scenes. To my surprise, reading these novels has actually made me think about the ways that I view love and romance, and it has shown me where I have been carrying unresolved grief related to love, especially that of the romantic kind.

I forgot how much I loved to read as a kid and this process has been something I’ve found to be super joyful and most importantly, something I do just for me. There are a lot of spaces where I am creating and giving from soul work, putting out content, and getting to do amazing things via Mourning Light Divination. All of that is fantastic and I was starting to lose myself to the work. When discussing this with my therapist, she told me to get a hobby (and reminded me for the millionth time that work is not a hobby). So finally, I took her advice and since have been reading romance novels, learning the banjo, among other things! I also got reacquainted with my favorite bookstores and libraries and that has been a really cute experience.

The moral and spirit of day four is all about finding something you love to do that has nothing to do with being productive. This is integral to healing and understanding that joy and rest are a birthright. We need times where we aren’t doing something for inner or outer work but just because.

Because we will die eventually and it is absolutely worth taking the time to simply experience being alive and be open to awe of it all.

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Day Five: Healthy dose of disassociation for integration: watching favorite tv shows and movies.

Television gets a bad reputation and so does disassociation. Sure, just like anything else, we can over-do it with binging tv-shows, watching movies, playing video games, daydreaming…all a kind of overcompensation that we can get in a rut or too comfortable with that doesn’t help us. What we don’t talk about enough is that dissociation in moderation is healthy. It’s also often used as a survival tool, especially in circumstances of trauma, but there are ways to disassociate that can be helpful on a more daily basis. It is a tool that is 100% in my grief toolkit as well as my integration kit. My healthy dose of disassociation for integration looks like watching favorite tv shows and movies.

I love watching my movies and tv shows, I even realized this year that they were essential to my daily self care which surprised me. I was in a class where the instructor asked what our daily essentials might be for taking care of ourselves. I was amazed that in my list I found “time to watch my favorite shows/movies” and since then, I try to end my day with an episode or two. If I’m really on top of it, I also put my phone in another room. And look, I’m part Taurus, so I also make it a whole experience: snacks, a delicious beverage or two, blankets, some pillows, and comfy wear. It’s just lovely however, once I start to notice that all I want to do is watch tv, this is an important cue for me that I am getting into some dangerous territory and most likely by the time I have made this observation I have already started neglecting important things, people in my life and myself.

I don’t exactly love the word balance but, it is true that anything we love can quickly turn into something unhealthy that keeps us from acknowledging our pain, grief, any unresolved issues and things similar in nature. I find joy in film, storytelling, and expression, however I try to be really mindful of those cues when I am using something I love as a bandaid along with avoidance.

We need a break, as does our grief, from being so entangled. We need things that can have us thinking and experiencing other feelings and thoughts other than our grief - even but for a moment. This is where disassociation might come in handy, to get lost in a good story, a book, movie, tv show or conversation. One might write down their go-to’s so that when grief takes over, they already have a list in their kit. I highly recommend making a toolkit and having it ready in a spot you’ll remember, because having one less thing to remember while grieving can be very helpful.

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Day Six: Phone date with a friend, someone I feel safe sharing my deep feelings with.

Grief can make us feel really isolated and alone in general, in our experience and in feeling misunderstood or under-supported. When my brain starts to create a false narrative that I don’t have anyone who cares about me, that I’m alone, or the classic ego conversation of no one would get it, so why even explain it, this is when I ask my friends if we can plan a phone date. (I find this even more helpful when I am feeling upset that I cannot call specific loved ones because they have died).

What a game changer it is to talk with a close friend in-person or virtually, someone I feel safe sharing my deep feelings with. I used to be really bad about asking for support and help, which I’m really only now getting better at it. Now when I ask for support I let my friends know in advance that I need some love and care, so then they can decide and let me know if they have capacity for that. For example, I’ll say something like, “Can we have a phone date? I need some space to be held for me. I feel like I’m holding so much and I’m starting to feel alone. Do you have the capacity to hold space for me?” Plus, it’s nice to hear about what my friends have going on which as an added bonus, gives me something else to focus my attention on other than any overwhelming grief I am feeling. If my friends are super busy or don’t have capacity, I will then lean extra on my spiritual team, therapist, and other practitioners in my toolkit. Then I’ll check back in with my friends at a later date.

Day six serves as a friendly reminder to check on your friends, especially who seem like they have it all together and the ones who continually check in on you. It also serves as a reminder that it is not only normal and okay to ask for help and support, but our wellbeing really depends on having support from others.

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Day Seven: Time spent in nature with loved ones, letting myself feel my feelings in the open, expansive space.

There is something about breathing in mountain air and looking up at the sky from a different viewpoint, a different perspective. Science tells us that something changes within us in nature, especially if we’re in an environment or landscape that really speaks to us. Although the desert is my happiest place, the woods have been speaking intensely to me this year and I’ve found a lot of comfort among the trees and cool river water.

For my last day within the nourishing my grief series, I spent time in nature with loved ones and let myself feel my feelings in the open, expansive space. The woods tell me things and it’s usually the missing puzzle piece to the healing I have been seeking. Nature is such a powerful form of integration, medicine and magic. I personally find it helpful to go hiking with people who don’t feel like they have to constantly fill silence with conversation. I prefer to go with folx who understand the importance of some quiet time in nature so that we may all be attentive and receive the guidance given to us in these sacred places. These sacred lands know change and they know grief, probably more grief than we will ever know or understand. The thing about this though, is that we are not alone on these lands. If we let the grief swirl together with all of the spectacular mysteries of life, the land will help us remember there is purpose and love within our core.

And that is also what grief tells us.

Remember, your grief is holy. It is medicine. It has things to share with you, if only you give it some space and room.

Love, Hannah

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By using the language of “letting grief soften us” we realize we have the ability to interact with our grief whichever way we choose to do so. But there’s a particular dance that grief asks of us, a tough line to tow: when do we let grief wash over us and when do we take the reigns? Can we do both at the same time? If we find ourselves in the oceans of grief for too long, our lungs may fill with too much liquid. If we take the reins too quickly, we may find ourselves tired and angry from our hurrying. Ah, the peculiar dance that grief asks of us…personal and yet universal to all of us.

This Substack is a continued love letter to Sacred Death about the complexities of life, death, and the in-between from the viewpoint of a specific Persian Death Witch. Thank you for taking the time to read this love letter with me. ~ Hannah Haddadi {she/they}

Next essay: Coming Soon.

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