Letting Go of Routine & Embracing Softness as You Grieve
Five years ago, I made the decision that I wouldn’t use an alarm clock to wake up in the morning.
This may not sound radical or earth shattering to you. However, it was a definite game changer in my world. Let me offer a bit of context.
When my grief journey began in 2012 following my mom’s death, I felt completely out of control. Not only was my mom my mother, but she also served as my prayer partner, shopping buddy, best friend, and confidante. So when she died after a 30-day battle with Stage IV pancreatic cancer, I did what I knew to do to manufacture some semblance of control amidst uncontrollable circumstances.
I took “control” of my body, over-exercising it at times.
I took “control” of how I presented myself, concealing the deep hurt that churned within me.
I took “control” of my friendships, determined to show up and not be identified as “the grieving friend.”
I took “control” of my morning routine, attempting to routinize it to the point where I didn’t afford much self-compassion or grace.
While I gradually began to soften as it pertained to providing what my body needed, embracing vulnerability, and allowing my friends and family to serve as support, I struggled to let go of my rigid morning routine. As a matter of fact, I held on to this seemingly inconsequential routine for many years after my mom died. My dad’s death in 2020, however, absolutely confirmed the need for a change.
Looking back, I can see that my strong grasp on the morning structure stemmed from fear – fear that if I allowed grief to seep into my day, I might not recover.
Does this resonate with you, my friend?
While there’s nothing wrong with order and routine as you grieve, there could be something wrong if you’re unable to afford un-busied time in your day. Time to just be. Time to think. Time to feel.
It was my psychologist who helped me recognize the role that structure played in my life. When we began to peel back the layers of my day, both she and I quickly realized that no margin for self-compassion, grace, or softness existed. So I began the process of un-doing my schedule. Was it easy? Absolutely not! However, it was definitely necessary.
A few things I reconfigured in my routine included:
Using an alarm clock. This wasn’t easy, given the nature of my employment at the time. However, after talking with my supervisor and receiving the green light to arrive on campus a bit later, I slowly began to trust my body and give it the natural rest it desperately craved. As mentioned, this was a game changer!
Scheduling time for grief. Yes, you read that correctly. With my therapist’s prompting, I began to create intentional time to grieve – not in a rigid way, but in a way that felt organic throughout each week. I started to prioritize this ahead of lesser important activities. And during my “grief time,” I allowed whatever rose in me to rise without judgment or attempt to change anything.
Intentionally mixing up my schedule to help promote more flexibility. Instead of adhering to a strict daily routine, I re-ordered aspects of my schedule. For example, I sometimes went for a walk after waking vs. reading my Bible. In addition, I followed my instincts each morning, journeying in the direction my mind, body, and spirit preferred.
I’ll be the first to admit that loosening the grip on control in the midst of grieving isn’t easy. At times, you might feel as if your schedule is the only thing that makes sense and is predictable. However, I challenge you to assess WHY you may be adhering to a strict routine post-loss.
One way you might explore the reasoning behind your actions is through journaling, paying close attention to your daily rhythms.
Friend, I believe that as you let go of strict routines and embrace softness throughout your grief journey, you’ll experience less burden. You won’t labor as much. And you might even gain clarity and deeper connection with yourself and others.
Grieving is hard enough. My hope is that you won’t add to your suffering.
Invite softness into your routine … you’ll be glad you did.
xo, Mekel
