Waves and Trees

How a walk along the Pembrokeshire Coast reminded me of grief…

Maybe it’s the love I have for the outdoors, maybe it’s the ex-English teacher in me, but I love a nature metaphor. Wherever I look, nature seems to present me with a way of explaining things, and I love sharing these insights with you! Two years ago I published my very first blog on here – Feel the Fear and Do it Anyway – all about starting out in my very own private practice, starting counselling and the parallels with walking along the Pembrokeshire coast. Well I’ve been walking along the Pembrokeshire coast again, and this time I couldn’t help being reminded of all the parallels it has with the walk that grief can take us on.

Grief is always there

For a start, when you walk the Pembrokeshire coast there is the constant reminder that the sea is always there. You may not always be able to see it, but most often you can hear it or even smell it, and you know it won’t be long before you see it again. Grief too isn’t going away. However much we may try to ignore it, however much we try to distract ourselves, we will continue to be reminded of it time and time again. I realise this can feel quite menacing, but maybe by accepting the fact that it isn’t going anywhere can help us to stop resisting it and start embracing it where we can. After all, the more we love that person (or thing – see It’s Not Just About Death), the more we will grieve them. I find a lot of my clients worry that if they “move on” with their lives and leave the loss orientation of grief (Grief - it’s more waves than phases)  for a little bit, they will somehow forget their person forever. The sea can remind us that however far away we move from it, it’s always there, and we can always return.

Grief comes in waves

Then there’s the constant waves. Grief can often be described as coming in waves, and whereas to begin with the waves of grief can feel relentless and overwhelming, over time they can even be quite comforting – the predictability that another wave will come and we will never forget our loved one. It seems that no wave of grief is exactly the same – it certainly keeps you on your toes (literally!) – but the feelings of the waves so become more familiar. We can’t stop the waves from appearing, just as we can’t stop the powerful movement of the sea. However, if we let it wash over us and truly feel it, rather than resisting it, and the more we do this, the more familiar the waves can get and the more we know that we can keep ourselves upright, either on our own or with help.

Sometimes you need to take grief one step at a time

Then there’s the literal up and downs of the terrain of the coastal walk. The uphills take up so much energy, and there are times when you’ll turn a corner full of anticipation that respite is ahead, only to find you’re still climbing upwards! However much grieving may feel like a similar uphill struggle, though, there will always be some relief at times, even if it’s not when you were expecting it. What goes up must come down, although I’ve got to say I find downhills quite tricky… What if I hurtle down too fast and fall? There’s two responses to this. One, look for the support. Grief can feel lonely, but there are people who want you to lean on them if you look hard enough, and it’s totally ok to get support. Two, if you get close enough to me when I’m walking, you may hear me reminding myself out loud that I can do hard things. This can be walking, or it can be grieving – you are capable of so much, and the more you do it, the more you’ll know that you can succeed. Take it one step at a time.

Grief can remind you that you can do hard things.

There’s also a sense of achievement. Ugh, when I write this I realise it appeals to my high-achiever-wanting-a-medal-if-I-work-hard-I’ll-get-rewarded drivers that I’m so keen to avoid these days. Because life doesn’t always present you with a medal and there doesn’t have to be a silver lining or an “at least” to grief. Because grief sucks, and sometimes we have to accept that it’s painful without a massive reward. You weren’t asking for a whole load of rocks to appear under foot – just like you weren’t asking for the rocks of grief to appear – and they jolly well hurt, but that feeling when you get through it can be really empowering. Saying this, there doesn’t have to be a great epiphany – try not to put the pressure on yourself to grow around grief, but more take stock of your wins when you can.

Sometimes it can feel like you're getting lost in your grief, but there's always a way out @Jules Lowe Counselling

Just as the more you experience the waves of grief the more familiar they feel, I also find that I’m better prepared the more I do it. As far as walking goes, I’m far better equipped than I used to be. I’ve now got a lightweight waterproof that’s less burdensome and weighty to carry but protects me from the downpours so they don’t feel quite as bad, and my backpack is full of items that I might need along the way, from suncream and blister plasters to sandwiches and snacks (because satisfying this girl’s hunger is EVERYTHING!). My walking boots are nicely broken in and even my muscles are more used to climbing steep inclines. My body and mind have experienced the hardships before and so I have more evidence that I can do it again.

However, there are still times when despite all the preparation, I still get caught out. There are times when it rains so hard that I still get soggy, or when we walk on such tricky terrain that I still get super-gross blisters and find it hard to walk the next day. Cut to grief, and however much we get used to the feeling of grief, and can prepare for when it may come to say hello at anniversaries, birthdays and places where we’d expect it, there are still times when we can get caught out, where it can still feel super painful or when it can arrive completely unexpected. To this I would offer compassion. If you wake up and feel griefy and you have no idea, or if it still hurts after so many years, try to remind yourself that this is completely normal. Sometimes grief likes to arrive unexpectedly, so instead of giving yourself a hard time about not having prepared enough or seen it coming, invite it in anyway and see what it has to say.

Grief and Joy can co-exist

One of the joys of walking the Pembrokeshire coast is that you can often see your destination in the distance and also look back at how far you’ve come. Sometimes clients say that they feel like they’re back at square one but it doesn’t take long for them to realise this isn’t true. Sometimes we need to take a moment to stop and take stock of how far we’ve come – it’s sometimes further than we think. Sometimes the destination doesn’t seem to be getting any close. If you’ve walked the beach to Tenby, you may have experiences the sensation that it’s in view but doesn’t seem to be getting closer. However, if you take it step by step, and even try to enjoy aspects of the journey (maybe a paddle in the sea or notice the glimmers of joy that appear in your life), you might get there sooner than you think.

Please be rest assured that I had the absolute best time and didn’t spend my entire time thinking about grief or indeed work (sometimes I do actually practice what I preach/ compassionately offer and completely switch off). Waves and trees are two of the things that bring me the most joy; it’s just that grief is always there in the background. And these days I’m OK with that – it’s often what reminds me to make the most of this precious life.

If you’re looking for someone to walk alongside you while you explore your grief (either metaphorically or literally in the case of Outdoor Therapy), I’d love you to get in touch xx