I am so incredibly honored to share a special series of guest posts this winter, called “Permission to Grieve.”

The contributors, a few of my fierce and beautiful For the Love launch team sisters, have faced grief in various forms, from chronic illness to the loss of a parent to multiple miscarriages and everything in between.

I hope that their tales of heartache and resilience will inspire you and grant you permission to grieve, to rest, to take deep breaths, so that you can do more healing than hurting in 2016.

Permission to grieve

The first installment in my “Permission to Grieve” series comes from Stacey Philpot, who shows us that grieving chronic illness can be an ongoing process.

Grief is a process

Grief is a process. There is no escaping it.

Oh yes, there is delaying it. But that is not the same as avoiding it—it’s just a postponement.

There’s really no delicate way to say this and so here it is: Grief sucks. She’s an ugly monster who tries to drown you, who humiliates you in the grocery store and at family gatherings, who rips your beating heart straight from your chest and keeps you up at night.

And just when you think she’s gone for good, sure enough, she shows up banging on your front door again.

“So, Stacey, how are you feeling? So, can I ask what your symptoms are?”

On the surface, I’m sure these questions seem fairly benign. Unless, of course, you are in the throes of grief. Then these questions are the equivalent to being asked to strip down naked and put on a little show in a crowded room or to rip the scab off of your wound and let those around your poke around at your tender, bleeding flesh.

You might as well say, “So, tell me about your greatest faults and failures.” Because to the person grieving their illness, symptoms feel like faults and they are very very painful to talk about.

This would be similar to meeting someone for the first time and after shaking hands, asking, “Now tell me, have you ever been unfaithful to your spouse?” You would never do it. But you probably would ask someone about their symptoms over dinner.

Here’s the thing: Grieving looks different for everyone.

For some, it’s obvious in that they can’t help but tell you that they are grieving. Others are very skilled at hiding their grief. They might make jokes about what’s going on, but beneath the surface is a tremendous amount of pain and they actually hate all of the questions and platitudes.

For the most part, I have processed my grief.

These questions no longer send my heart racing or cause my lip to quiver. As a general rule, when people I don’t know ask about the intimate details of my health, I just find it rude and not devastating.

When people tell me that “healing is available to me if I would only take it,” I just gag in my mouth a bit instead of crying and questioning my own lack of faith.

I know who I am. I also know that healing is sometimes a process.

But for many who are still actively grieving, these things are really painful. How can you help those who might be in the throes of grief?

Stop asking questions: What feels benign to you, may feel very raw to the individual grieving. Let them share what they feel comfortable sharing, when they feel comfortable sharing it.

Allow plenty of room for processing before sharing. The last thing you want is for them to feel suffocated and pressured, along with their grief. You want your relationship to be a safe place.

Meet them in their grief: This may mean sitting in silence while they cry. It may mean validating their grief. It does not mean offering religious platitudes that make you feel more comfortable and invalidate their grief (i.e. God picks the most beautiful flowers first so you should be glad your flower got picked and stop whining).

This isn’t about whether or not the religious statements are true or not, it’s about the fact that they don’t help in these moments.

Don’t rush the grief: Just because you are tired of hearing about something or feel that someone should handle it a certain way doesn’t change their grieving process.

Remember, it looks different for all of us.

And if today, you are grieving, can I give you permission to grieve?

For as long as it takes, there is no shame is honoring and processing your loss. Bravely face that loss, that you might come out equipped with compassion and strength to guide others through the long dark hallway of grief.

Stacey Philpot at Chronically Whole

Stacey Philpot is an author, goofball and avid reader. She endeavors to encourage other warriors like her along in their journey of battling for health and discovering wholeness at chronicallywhole.com.

Stacey is mom to Hayden and Avery, stepmom to Julie and wife to Ryan (a smarty pants who works at NASA and logs their whole life on spreadsheets and pie charts, true story!). She has a strange affinity for eating whole meals in bed (don’t tell anyone) and is convinced smelling old books will make her smarter.