Is Grief My Story?
The thirty-minute car ride to dance felt much longer than I remembered. A mix of nervousness and excitement filled my swollen heart. My hands felt shaky as I pulled on the zip of the worn but loved dance bag, rechecking the contents, making sure I hadn’t left anything behind.
Like elevator music, I was loosely paying attention to my dad’s conversation. His words weren’t holding strong, and it was probably clear to him too that my mind was wandering. As I rechecked the bag once more, I realised what I had left behind wasn’t my dance shoes but the month-long torment we had endured. I was ready to start moving again.
Returning to dance has been the healthiest decision I’ve made following our miscarriage. Dance has always been a sacred place for me. A place to release stress. The concentration, strength, and determination it requires grounds me and I can safely say that there’s no feeling quite like it.
In complete transparency, I have tried to go back to classes several times over the past year. But like many mums know, even with the best of intentions, you put your interests aside because life gets busy. You are frequently exhausted looking after your little one, and it’s easy to convince ourselves that a class would just add to the tension. Each time I have returned, I have only lasted a couple of weeks before I placed my attendance in the ‘too hard basket’. As a mum who prides herself on filling her cup up, my lack of motivation has been frustrating.
This time feels different compared to previous attempts. It’s been three weeks, and the negative self-talk appears to have fallen away. Convincing myself that I am too tired is not a conversation that I am willing to have with myself. I know that putting time into me is the difference between moving forward or sitting in my grief. It’s that simple. Dance gives me focus and something outside of the day to day to look forward to. It’s more than weekly classes, it’s my passion and gives me purpose beyond just being a mum.
Over the past week, I have actively concentrated on my wellbeing, which is something I have found difficult to do since we lost our little one. When life becomes overwhelming, my mind leaves no room for me. At a time that my healthy routines and habits are needed most, they fall away. I was closing myself off to the people around me. Not taking phone calls, making excuses and hibernating. I didn’t know what to say or how to feel about what had happened, so I felt like hiding away.
In my efforts to reconnect with the outside world, last Friday I met a friend who has experienced overwhelming grief in her life, and we had a meaningful conversation. She talked opening about the concept of themes to our personal story, and perhaps her story is grief. This resonated with me, and I think it is the reason why I have been so anxious following our miscarriage.
Losing my mum in 2016 was a long and drawn out, traumatic event. From our role as carers to what I liken to palliative care nurses, the end for our mum was not easy or peaceful. It took me many years to come to terms with what had happened.
When we lost our baby, I felt an overwhelming sense of grief and fear. And on reflection, I can make some sense of this. I was fearful that I would fall into grief again and that I might not be able to get out. But unlike when my mum passed away, this time, it was important for me to take control and heal.
You never get over loosing someone, grief ebs and flows like the ocean. Some days may be calm, and without warning, a storm appears and throws you off course. I know myself much better this time around and I know that things will gradually keep moving. Being kind and letting myself feel is part of the healing process. I am learning and will continue to grow. And while I am doing that, I am back at dance, and I am so grateful to have something to focus on.