Walking Through Grief

 

I find myself stuck in a cycle of grief. I’m angry at myself for not doing better, for feeling like a failure. I catch myself bargaining with thoughts like, "It could get better," or "It’s not that bad." Denial keeps whispering, "This isn’t really happening." And depression? Depression feels like it’s taken up permanent residence in my body. Yet, I haven’t reached Acceptance. All of this turmoil—this pain—over a job. A job that I had wrapped my entire identity around.

When I was 17, I almost lost my mom. She survived but was left brain-damaged and completely blind. During that time, I didn’t have anyone to turn to. We lived in Florida, far from family—just me, my emotionally distant stepdad, and my mom. Those months between November 2009 and 2010 were some of the hardest, and most confusing, days of my life. They made me realize that there are kids just like me—without someone to lean on. I knew then that when I grew up I wanted to be the adult I needed when I was a teenager, and that’s why I chose to become a school counselor.

I poured my heart and soul into earning my master’s degree, which, until now, has been one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. It was the first time in my life that I truly felt proud of myself. I felt accomplished - like I had finally found my purpose. I was a school counselor. It became more than just a job—it was part of who I was, an identity: School Counselor.

What happens when that dream fizzes away? What happens when that identifier is gone? How do you cope? How do you move on after losing such a huge part of who you are? 

No, seriously? I’m not asking for a friend. I need to know. 

I’m praying that I will know how to answer those questions as time passes and the distance grows. 

If it wasn’t clear, I resigned from my job as a school counselor. So many factors led to this decision, and now I find myself grieving. I’m grieving the loss of my job, the loss of an identity that was so closely tied to who I am, the loss of friendships, and the loss of my sense of purpose.

One thing I learned from my DBT workbook is to stop focusing on what's going wrong and instead shift my attention to what’s going right. It also says to look for the “silver lining.” However, these concepts can be really hard to grasp when you’re in any of the stages of grief. But part of healing is engaging the rational part of your brain, not just the emotional side.

I imagine the silver lining could look like: less stress, lower anxiety, and greater happiness. My mental health has taken a serious downturn over the past four months, and I’d say 90% of that is tied to the job. But it’s just a job, right? I need to stop attaching my identity to it! I’m starting to realize that separating myself from this role is necessary. Two things can be true at once: It can hurt like hell, and still be the best decision. 

No matter how much I try to engage the rational part of my brain, I’m still left with a heavy heart. I feel so lost. I feel like my entire world is absolutely falling to pieces. I feel like I’m ultimately doing this to myself. No one is asking me to leave. No one is forcing me out. It’s all my decision. 

I realize I have to put myself in my own shoes, the ones I have been wearing for the last four months. The same ones that have walked through anxiety, depression, and suicidal ideation. The ones that carried me through rehab, helping me face the mental health struggles I’ve been battling. I have to stay mindful of where I have been, and what all I have walked through. I can’t keep focusing on where I thought I should be, or where I once believed I was meant to be. 

Regardless of all the mud, water, and dog shit I’ve walked through. It still hurts to say goodbye.