Meet Your Grief With Self-Compassion

How I've used self-compassion while grieving, and how you can too.

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This article is a continuation of a discussion about self-compassion. I will talk candidly about the loss of a parent, which may be difficult to read. If you don’t have the capacity for a heavy one today, then I support you in choosing not to read. Catch up with me next time, or check out something from the archives, like this.

Last Summer, my father spent his 61^st birthday in the hospital. He was mostly hospitalized from late May through August, when he eventually passed away. Much of that time was spent trying to figure out precisely what was wrong. He was having trouble breathing, suffering from what appeared to be repeated bouts of pneumonia. As a lifelong smoker, we assumed he may have lung cancer or COPD, but these were quickly ruled out.

One day in August, I was caught completely off guard when the doctors decided that there was nothing more that should be done to manage his condition. They felt that it was perfectly reasonable to stop providing treatment, at which point they expected that he would pass away quickly.

My father was very clear that this is what he wanted to do. He was ready to be free of the hospital and the pain. We were gifted this confounding, precious couple of hours in which he was completely alive with the support of oxygen while knowing that he was about to die. I had not realized that the oxygen was keeping him alive, an inconspicuous lifeline. I had thought it more like a crutch than an organ.

We had this time to say our goodbyes, while my father was, although weak, able to share his last words and assure us of how certain he was of his decision. Once the oxygen was removed, he was provided medication to keep him sedated and comfortable until his body let go.

These hours in which he was alive enough to choose to die, are among the most confusing moments of my life. Beautiful and horrifying at the same time.  But I recognize them as a gift.

It took a couple days for my father’s last breath, and I was not in the hospital when he finally passed. My mother called to let me know. In those earliest moments of awareness, I was overcome with sadness. Only a few minutes later, I felt physically ill with guilt and regret.

My mind got busy asking questions that I was not prepared to answer. What had I said to him in those last hours? Did I tell him all the things I needed to say? Why had I not visited him more in the hospital? Why had we not been closer, and how much of it was my fault?

It was disturbing how quickly my sadness turned to blame. And I was frustrated that I was feeling so much regret even after having the opportunity to speak with my father and say anything I might need to say. What more could I have asked for?

I know from my personal history with grieving, and sitting with others in their grief, that it is not uncommon to experience regret, guilt, and self-blame in the aftermath of a loss. However, some may feel alone with these emotions especially since guilt and regret are not explicitly included in many common models of bereavement. I was surprised to learn that comparatively, there has been much less research looking at the role of guilt in the process of grief. There is some evidence to suggest that guilt, particularly feelings of self-blame, can complicate and prolong the grieving process.

I have no doubt that guilt is a common reaction to loss. The circumstances surrounding your specific loss may make it more likely that you will experience intense regret or even self-blame, for example, in the case of a death by suicide.

If you were in the role of a caretaker for your loved one, or even a parent, you may be more apt to re-examine and question your actions leading up to the loss. If you had a complicated or estranged relationship with your loved one, this may contribute to self-doubt and “what if’s.”

In the case of the death of a pet, many owners struggle with guilt around the decision to humanely euthanize their pet or not. Understandably, it is common to second guess the decision, and question whether you did enough to help or save your pet.

Some people are already predisposed to self-blame, regardless of the circumstances. You may be one who finds yourself asking, “What did I do?” whenever anything goes wrong, ever.

We make sense of our experience through language and stories. When you lose someone you love, it is natural to begin retelling the story of your history together. This is an important part of grieving, and often accompanies the preparations for funerals or other rituals. We sort through belongings and collect photos. We must now put words to the part of the story where our loved one passed away.

There may be memories that are painful to recall or that rouse self-doubt or blame. It is important to acknowledge these parts of the story, to be honest with ourselves and feel the emotions that arise.

But be mindful not to re-write the past while excluding important parts of your own internal experience. It is important to acknowledge not just our own mistakes or failures, but also the limitations of the ones that we loved and lost.

Replacing Guilt With Self-Compassion

Last week, I defined self-compassion and explained the benefits of relating to ourselves more compassionately. In review, self-compassion is the extension of compassion to ourselves, and it relies upon 3 main components:

Mindfulness; a present-moment awareness of your thoughts, feelings, urges, and actions

Self-kindness; responding to yourself with gentleness and compassion, as opposed to judgment or criticism

and

Common humanity; a reminder that all humans are imperfect and painful emotions are part of the human experience.

What might it look like to meet your own feelings of self-blame or regret with an attitude of self-compassion? Here are some examples:

Present-Moment Awareness

• I am having doubts about whether I did enough to prevent this.

• I keep questioning whether I said everything I needed to say.

• I regret how I handled that, and now I can never apologize.

• I always wished to take her to the ocean, and now I’ve lost the chance.

Notice the emotions that you feel in these moments. Emotions are single-words, such as sadness, anger, or shame (as opposed to thoughts, which occur as statements or images in our minds.)

Notice how this emotion shows up in your body. For example, do you notice muscle tension, nausea, or a quickening of your heart rate?

Self-Kindness

• Of course this hurts.

• Bad things happen, but no one needs to be to blame. I don’t need to put this on myself.

• I did the best that I could at the time.

• I did the best that I could with the capacity and knowledge I had. It could have been more or different, but I have to honor my own feelings and limitations at that time as well.

• My relationship with my loved one isn’t defined by these painful moments that we experienced. It encompasses so much more.

• All these painful feelings are a sign of how much I cared or loved. It is important that I feel this.

Ask yourself “What do I need to hear in this moment?” What are some things that may be comforting to you right now, not just words, but also sensations (like the warmth of a heated blanket or the taste of your favorite tea). Would it help to be in nature? Take a nap? Cuddle a pet or stuffed animal? Talk to a friend?

Common Humanity

• My loss is unique to me, but grief is a universal experience.

• I am not alone, many others have felt what I am feeling.

• Death is a part of life, and I have everything I need within me to cope with this.

My favorite way of getting in touch with our common humanity is through reading or watching the experiences of others. My favorite memoir on grief is Wild: From Lost to Found on the Pacific Crest Trail by Cheryl Strayed.

Extending self-compassion to myself after the loss of my dad included reminding myself that it was a very human tendency to feel guilt while grieving.

Just because I feel guilt, does not mean I AM guilty.

I also needed to remember and honor all the parts of my experience, for example, I do not recall everything I said to my dad in those last moments because of course I was overwhelmed with shock and sadness. I can forgive myself for not having prepared a speech beforehand.

When I think back on our relationship and wish that I had done things differently, I remind myself that I did the best I could. I did not live every day thinking that one day he would die. If I had, perhaps I would have behaved differently.

As much as we may be encouraged to “live like you are dying”, to live in constant anticipation of death is unsustainable and unhealthy. We make endless choices every day while juggling all the demands and distractions of living. It is only after a loss that we look back and reconsider our actions through the lens of death and it’s finality.

I wrote about my experience of self-judgment and guilt after the death of a loved one, but these feelings can manifest in many different ways and under many different circumstances. If you are struggling, I invite you to develop your own statements of self-compassion, relying on the tenants of self-kindness, mindfulness, and common humanity. Practice them in moments of pain, or incorporate them into a brief daily mindfulness practice.

Do you have questions about self-compassion that you would like me to write more about?

Do you see a place for self-compassion in your journey with grief, or that of a loved one?

What is your favorite memoir on grief?

I would love to hear your feedback in the comments. If this article was helpful to you, please consider sharing it with others. I notice every like, comment, or share and it is so appreciated.

Disclosure: Dr. Amber_Writes is a newsletter designed to be informational, entertaining, and engaging. It is not therapy. Following this newsletter does not establish a therapeutic relationship with me. Dr. Amber_Writes, and other written communication by Amber Groomes on Substack, is not a substitute for treatment, diagnosis, or consultation with a licensed mental health professional. I assume no liability for any action taken in reliance on my writing here at Dr. Amber_Writes.