mental health

At some point or another, all of us will experience grief.

I’ve experienced major grief for the first time in my life recently, and it’s been hell. There’s really no pain comparable to that loss. But there are ways to make it easier, so I want to share with you what I’ve learned along the way.

So many of us are uncomfortable even talking about grief—it’s become a taboo subject. People avoid even talking about it, and that makes a lonely time even harder for the person who’s grieving.

You can always tell when I’m going through a painful time in life when I’ve stopped writing. I took a break from the blog after I left my marriage (which definitely felt like its own form of death and grief), and recently I’ve done it again. I needed time to process and heal from a major loss. And that’s one of the most important pieces of advice I can pass along—take as much time as you need. There’s no right way to grieve.

My precious dog, Corgi (the corgi), passed away on May 28, 2021.

Corgi was, in every sense, my child, especially since I don’t plan to have human children. I’ve lost some family members, but this was the first death I experienced that really hit me deeply.

I picked Corgi out from a litter—it was truly love at first site. My ex Matt and I had saved up and been talking about getting our first puppy together for months, and as soon as I saw him, I knew. He was the dog for me. And he really was.

I’ve never met another dog as smart as Corgi. I trained him in all sorts of tricks, agility, and obedience, and he was always hungry to learn more (and get more treats). My favorite thing was teaching him something new–it was stunning to me to watch his mind at work as he tried to figure it out. I liked the challenge of trying to communicate to him to get him to do what I wanted, like learning how to open a door on command. And then his joy when it clicked for him was a joy so strong I felt it fill up all of me as well, and we’d celebrate together by jumping and running around.

Every time I looked up, Corgi was there, staring at me. He gave me more love than I’ve ever felt, and I loved him just as much in turn.

To be honest, I struggle sometimes forming human friendships and connections. But with Corgi, we could literally communicate with each other with our eyes.

I’d played out his inevitable possible death in my mind hundreds of times with countless scenarios. But nothing prepared me for the grief.

Brené Brown calls it “foreboding joy,” or mentally dress-rehearsing tragedy. It’s something our minds do to try to protect us: thinking of worst-case scenarios at moments when we’re filled with love, because we’re so afraid of getting hurt, of losing what we have.

The hard truth is, though, that everything is temporary. Every connection will end. Death is always around the corner. And nothing prepares you for when it hits. Not even rehearsing the worst in your mind.

It was always my biggest fear, losing him, even though I knew this, even though I knew I one day would. (It’s cruel, isn’t it, how short our companion animals can live)

I’d already gone through a horrible year. 2020 was really hard for me, as it was for many. I lost most of my work, had to give up my apartment (and so grateful to have had friends who took me in). Matt had the dogs (Corgi and sweet chihuahua mix Peach) all year in Washington, because we share custody.

One of the things that got me through the hard days was thinking about my babies and dreaming about having them back with me again soon.

And then, mere weeks before I was set to move into a new apartment, and finally have the dogs with me again, I got the call we all dread.

You know that call.

You know that feeling. That horrible sink down into a twisted reality where life loses its meaning and you find yourself falling, falling

falling.

And then slammed into the concrete below.

I answered Matt’s call and he was crying. I knew.

“Corgi has cancer. The vet says he only has a few days to live.”

What followed was a whirlwind. I flew to Washington on the next flight I could get. I cried the whole way. Corgi was weak, he’d gotten sick suddenly and developed a bad cough, which is what prompted Matt to take him in. I’d seen Corgi shortly before and he had seemed fine.

It felt like this news had hit us out of nowhere.

Cancer surrounded Corgi’s heart. He could barely keep food down. We gave him the most beautiful final days we could, taking him to an AirBnB on a lake, and Matt drove him down to California.

The first weekend I moved in to my apartment, Corgi took his last breath. He was struggling to breathe in the cold darkness of the night. Matt had stayed awake to sit with him, I’d tried to go to sleep despite knowing he was struggling, because I had to teach classes the following morning. I’d prayed he could just hold on a little longer. But Matt woke me up in the middle of the night.

“It’s time.”

We took him to an emergency vet 30 agonizing minutes away, the only one open that would allow us to be in the room with him when they put Corgi down. (Thanks again, COVID.)

I still feel haunted by it, and the grief is just as strong now, three months later.

I’m sure that if you’re reading this, you likely know exactly what I mean. When you love someone with your whole, full heart, it’s devastating to have that ripped away. And it takes time to heal.

The weekend after I lost Corgi, I taught a yoga class out on the cliffs of San Diego. I met a woman who had lost her dog three months prior, and it was still hurting with her just as much as that first week. Now that I’m three months in, I understand even more deeply, because it’s still with me too.

If you’re going through grief right now, I’m so sorry. I’m sending you a huge hug.

Grief can take many forms. Sometimes it’s not even losing a loved one. You can feel grief around any kind of loss. Like I mentioned above, you can feel grief with divorce, losing a job, moving, or a friendship ending. Any kind of loss can come with grief.

The most important thing to remember is that the magnitude of your grief corresponds to how much you cared. And that’s a good thing.

It’s a superpower to care, to love. It’s hard to open ourselves up to that vulnerability because we know the loss may come at some point down the line. But what’s the alternative? Not loving at all? Closing ourselves off to feeling?

I’d much rather have loved this dog so much I feel a burning hole in my chest every day … than to have never had him at all.

(By the way, I highly recommend diving into more of Brené Brown‘s work if you’re not familiar with her—she focuses primarily on vulnerability, and how it’s essential to living a whole-hearted, full, courageous life. Try reading her book Daring Greatly to start.)

As they say: It’s better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all.

The 5 Stages of Grief

There are five stages of grief, according to the widely-used Kübler-Ross model. It’s important to note that healing is not a linear process—meaning you won’t go neatly down from one stage to another. You’ll likely bounce around from Stage 1, to 3, to 2, to 3, to 4, to 1, to 3… you get the idea. Think of these more as concentric circles than a line. There’s no one way to process grief, but it can be helpful to understand what you’re experiencing, and to know that’s all a healthy part of your natural healing process.

They are:

1. Denial and Isolation

Our brains’ main priority is to keep us safe. So it doesn’t want to accept new painful information, and our first response to grief is often denial. You just don’t want to believe it’s true.

The entire plane ride to Washington, I kept running it through my mind: surely the vet was wrong? surely they misread Corgi’s charts? there’s no way this is happening.

This isn’t happening.

This isn’t happening.

With denial comes isolation. We don’t want to face any more reminders of the truth. I couldn’t bring myself to talk to the friends who called me when I first found out. It felt as if talking about it would make it real. Grief can be overwhelming to deal with, so it’s normal to withdraw.

2. Anger

After denial and isolation, you feel anger. You feel like WHY is this happening to ME. I wanted to scream and scream. At God, the Universe, the birds, the sun, everyone and everything. I was so angry that I had to feel this pain, so unfair that this would happen.

Corgi was only 9. As a Pembroke welsh corgi, I’d long assumed he’d lived to around age 15. I often (half) jokingly looked at his beautiful doggy face and told him he’d live to 20. And deep down, I’d believed it. Or wanted to. So I felt immense rage at losing him so young, especially because I gave him the best dog food, he was super healthy, I gave him CBD and supplements and somehow hoped I could bargain my way to buying him more years of life.

3. Bargaining

Speaking of bargaining–it’s stage three of grief. Our brains are fighting to maintain some sense of control over the situation, so we start trying to come up with ways out of it. You might pray, begging for a miracle. I know I did. Or you may try to desperately scramble for solutions. What if we try this— what if we do this—. And in some cases, maybe, this can work out. We can always hope. But often we simply can’t change what’s set in motion, and that’s okay.

It’s not on us.

You did all you could. Please know that.

4. Depression

When you start to really feel the full weight of your loss, you’re ready for stage four, the most fun one of all! Depression!

This is the stage I resent the most. I’ve struggled with chronic depression my entire life, so it doesn’t actually take all that much to tip me back over the edge and right back into it. I always describe it as if my head is swollen. The pain literally makes my head throb. I feel absolutely hopeless about every thing, and struggle to feel any emotion at all, except for deep pain and sadness.

The depression stage is challenging. But it’s so important to remember that it’s temporary. You will not feel this way forever. With grief-induced depression, it goes away eventually on its own. Sometimes that takes some extra help though, so please seek out therapy (I recommend using Psychology Today to find one) or medical care if you feel you need more support.

And it’s okay to not feel okay. It’s okay to be depressed. It’s a healthy response to grief. Like I said above, when you love and lose that much, of course you are going to mourn. Our society is super uncomfortable with sadness. It often seems more acceptable to be angry than drowning in depression. Please know that other people’s discomfort isn’t about you or your situation. It’s about their unwillingness to face the hard side of life—and we’ll talk about more ways to handle this in a moment.

You deserve to be loved and supported, even if that’s not always available to you. Breathe, and know the depression stage will pass. And when it does, you finally reach peace in stage five:

5. Acceptance

Eventually, you will come to terms with your loss. Grief leads to acceptance. You’re able in this stage to wrap your head around the full experience of what’s happened, and accept that what is, is.

This doesn’t mean you’re done with your grief, though. Coping with it does get easier with time, but that doesn’t mean the pain always disappears completely. Sometimes it’s a lifelong process. And acceptance isn’t saying that what happened is okay—just that it happened.

I have a feeling I won’t ever get over losing Corgi. I’m planning to get a tattoo of his outline, so I can have him with me always. I’ve never gotten a tattoo before, but I’ve always known I’d do it after I lost him, because he’s forever branded on my heart. I’d say I’m probably in the acceptance stage at this point, but it still hurts, and sometimes I dip back into one of the other stages.

There’s no fully letting go, but there is a reframing of the loss. As time goes on, it’s easier to look back and feel gratitude for the love or joy you had, rather than focusing on the pain of the loss.

Sometimes I still forget Corgi is gone—I think he’s still with Matt, or just behind me. And recently, butterflies and birds have been flying right in front of my face, catching me off guard. I truly believe it’s Corgi saying hello. I talk to his ashes and light a candle for him every day. It helps me feel better to continue to feel connected with him even though he’s gone, at least from this world.

How To Help Someone Going Through The Stages of Grief

The hardest part, for me, of going through grief (and I’m definitely still going through it), was experiencing how uncomfortable other people are with it. I had some wonderful friends and family who reached out and sent gifts for Corgi and supported me through his decline. But I also noticed some friends who never mentioned anything about it, and still haven’t, even though I know they know.

I’m not upset about it, because I know how hard it is to face the uglier side of life. But grief really does come for us, at some point, if you’re opening yourself up at all.

We all experience it, but it’s still hard to know how to be there for a loved one when they’re going through it. But here’s what I’ve found to be the most meaningful ways to reach out after going through it myself.

Best ways to help someone in grief:

• Leave loving messages that don’t require a response
• Pray for them
• Send a meal, flowers, or a gift
• Help with medical/funeral costs or planning
• Give them space when needed
• Make a scrapbook of their loved one
• Offer to help with home tasks
• Don’t force talking about it, but do acknowledge that you know they’re hurting, and why
• Don’t worry if you’re not sure what to say
• Just let them know you care

I promise that if you do any of those things to support a loved one going through grief, it will mean more to them than they’ll ever be able to express.

And if you’re the one going through grief, it’s important to take care of yourself.

Nurture and love yourself through this wounded period, and make the days as easy on yourself as you can, for as long as you need.

Best ways to help yourself heal from grief:

• Create an altar or ritual to remember your loved one (I light a candle to Corgi)
• Get a massage (you have to get the tension from the pain out of your body)
• Take long baths with epsom salts
• Incorporate your loved one’s ashes in a special piece of jewelry (like this ring) or art
• Turn to your spiritual practice
• Go for long walks
• Spend time with a friend
• Meditate
• Move your body
• Cry as much as you need
• Watch your favorite funny or lighthearted TV show or movie (it’s ok to laugh)
• Do anything that brings you joy (it’s ok to feel moments of happiness)
• Give it time

Remember that all healing takes time.

Grief is a heavy emotional hit—the biggest one of all. And anything that affects your mind and heart will also affect your body. It’s normal to get sick because of grief—I got a horrible skin infection that’s still healing.

So be sure to take care of yourself. Whatever you need, give it to yourself. Don’t judge how you handle the grief, or how long it takes you to heal. All ways of healing are valid.

It’s going to hurt. But it will also eventually hurt less, and less, and less, until hardly at all. Time really does heal all wounds, so even though you may be in the thick of it right now, it will one day be brighter.

You’ll feel joy. You’ll have beautiful days you’ll remember forever. And you’ll love again.

The best way to honor your grief, and the beauty of what you’ve lost, is by celebrating life right now. After all, all we know for sure is that we have this precious present moment.

So open up your heart once more, dear one, and live it.

» Song Vibes «

xo,

Amy

What has your experience with grief been like? Share with me in the Comments in the Disqus section below.

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I suffer from chronic depression.

I’ve had to battle depression for as long as I can remember. Even as a kid, I was very sad.

My message both on this blog and in my fitness career is about happiness and positivity and feeling good in a life well lived. But sometimes it’s hard. To be honest, I don’t feel exactly happy, or positive, or remotely good right now, and I haven’t for a while now. My intention for this blog is and always will be to be as real as possible. I have zero tolerance for phonies, as Holden Caulfield would say. So here’s my truth:

I’m really struggling with my depression right now.

As you might have noticed, I haven’t been able to bring myself to blog for the past few weeks or really engage on any social platform. Even my Instagram presence has been half-hearted.

And it would be easy to say it’s because I was busy traveling, which is true. Or that I got bogged down with my day job, which is also true. But those would just be glossy excuses barely covering up the uglier reality.

Because the truth is, I’m currently staring into the eyes of my old friend Depression.

It’s really taken me by surprise, actually. It had been so long since I experienced a relapse that I didn’t notice it taking over. And it’s doing a masterful job of pinning me down, keeping me from doing anything beyond what’s absolutely required to get through each day.

It’s honestly heartbreaking to have a dream, a vision, a drive (like I do for this blog) and then be unable to even peel myself off the floor, much less form a single sentence.

For the longest time, it was very painful for anyone to open up about having depression (including myself) because of the social stigma attached to mental illnesses. Thankfully, the landscape is changing, and we’re starting to become more comfortable talking about it — although it’s still pretty hush-hush. I have been writing various drafts of this post for days now, because having depression is so difficult to explain and I still feel a sense of shame about it. Plus, you know, I’m depressed, which means every word is a monumental effort to type.

In general, I prefer to not talk about my struggles with depression much because I don’t want it to define how people view me.

I don’t want to be labeled “The Depressed Girl” (which is how I felt I was perceived growing up). It doesn’t accurately describe who I am. I am not my illness, and in reality there is an incredibly happy person inside of me absolutely desperate to break out of the prison of depression. That happier version of me had been my norm up until the past couple of months, when the depression just got too difficult to fend off with my usual artillery of yoga, meditation, positive thinking, etc.

Life’s been very, very challenging. I thought it was challenging before, but it’s like the universe was waiting to send me to my own personal Secret Bonus Level of Suckitude. Most of it is too personal to share at the moment, but I’m now having to readdress my recurrent depression to ensure I get through these harder times. I can’t let my depression win. And if you or someone you know is or might be experiencing depression, you can’t let it, win, either.

So let’s talk about depression a little bit, ok?

What is depression?

Depression is one of the most common mental illnesses. According to the National Institute of Mental Health, in 2015 around 16.1 million adults aged 18 years or older in the U.S. had experienced at least one major depressive episode in the last year (about 6.7% of all U.S. adults). There’s no one cause of depression — it’s formed from an individually personalized blend of influences including genetic, biological, environmental, and psychological factors.

Depression presents itself differently in different people, so it’s difficult to define. But I’d say it’s like you’re living in the Upside Down from Stranger Things. Everything is the same, but there’s a filter in your brain that removes the joy out of life. You feel like you’ll never be happy again.

Yes, we all get sad at times, and sometimes life really sucks for a while. So how do you know if your sadness is a normal reaction, or an indication of a more serious condition?

Here’s what to look for:

Signs of depression:

• Persistent sad, anxious, or “empty” mood
• Feelings of hopelessness or pessimism
• Feelings of guilt, worthlessness, or helplessness
• Loss of interest or pleasure in hobbies or activities
• Decreased energy, fatigue, or being “slowed down”
• Difficulty concentrating, remembering, or making decisions
• Difficulty sleeping, early-morning awakening, or oversleeping
• Appetite and/or weight changes
• Thoughts of death or suicide or suicide attempts
• Restlessness or irritability
• Aches or pains, headaches, cramps, or digestive problems without a clear physical cause and/or that do not ease even with treatment

If these symptoms last for over 2 weeks, you may have depression.

» via «

What is depression like?

My depression has always felt like life becomes just so much harder. Everything is a challenge, from putting on clothes in the morning to eating food to talking to other people. Any pain I’m experiencing in my body is amplified and I have a constant brain fog and usually a headache. My mind is slower to process and gets stuck in extremely limiting thought patterns (essentially an endless loop in my brain saying “I’m sad I’m sad I’m sad”) — but I’m trapped in a maze with no way out, so I completely forget how to think positively. All of this means my health starts to deteriorate, I have trouble sleeping and I get sick easily (I got a cold last week, naturally).

It’s very dark and very lonely.

Everyone’s depression will manifest differently. There are also different types of depression, including Persistent Depressive Disorder (which is what I have — you have depressive periods for longer than 2 years), Seasonal Affective Disorder (depression due to winter’s shorter days), and Postpartum Depression in new mothers.

One thing I want to note: it’s perfectly possible to be a smiling, successful, highly functioning human being while also being depressed, depending on the severity of your condition. I have frequently experienced not being taken seriously for my depression because I am still able to get necessary work done, show up looking put-together, and put on a happy face when interacting with others while in a depressive state because I want to feel happy. I just don’t. Don’t assume you can spot depression easily or that it has to look a certain way. I’ve mastered smiling through it.

How to treat depression:

First of all, if you are struggling with depression, thank you for finding this blog post — please seek whatever help you need, especially if you have any sort of fear that your depression could lead to suicidality. Also, just so you know: you’re fucking awesome and beautiful and loved, even if you don’t feel any of that or want to shoot me the middle finger for saying it. It’s true.

There are as many treatment methods as there are people who suffer from depression. You know me — I don’t love medication. If at all possible, I prefer to go the natural route. However, I’ve also tried medication (and basically all varieties of them for depression and anxiety), so I know it’s not right for my body. They’re not very effective and the side effects have always been unbearable for me. But they may be right for you, so if you’re struggling, definitely consult a physician.

One of the many possible contributing causes of depression is a chemical imbalance in the brain. Antidepressants relieve depression by affecting certain brain chemicals called neurotransmitters that are associated with depression — particularly serotonin, norepinephrine and dopamine. Antidepressants can be a very effective way to start your depression treatment to help train your brain to rebalance its chemicals, and some people might do best staying on these kinds of medication long-term. Again, everyone’s different, especially when it comes to depression.

You have to heal your mind.

There are tons of options as well for healing depression that don’t require any drugs, and I know from personal experience that it can be possible to overcome depression naturally.

Here are some of the most common natural depression treatments:

• Meditation
• Exercise » Even though the depression makes you feel like a 5,000 lb sloth and working out is literally the last thing you want to do, it’s usually the best thing you can do to fight that funk. Exercise increases hormones like serotonin and dopamine in the brain and has been proven to have a positive effect on mental health.
• Yoga
• Cognitive Behavioral Therapy » A good therapist (be sure to find one that you really vibe with) can coach you through addressing and healing the life circumstances, past events, or negative thought patterns that can cause or worsen your depression.
• Acupuncture
• St. John’s Wort » My doctor recommended this herb to me years ago, and I find it very helpful. Be sure to talk to your doctor before taking it, because it can make birth control pills ineffective!
• Eating healthfully
• Volunteering » It’s been proven that helping others makes you feel good, too. Volunteer work can also offer perspective — it reminds us to be grateful for everything we have when we help those in need.
• Get enough sleep
• Spend time with friends and loved ones
• Fake it till you make it » Your brain functions sort of similarly to a muscle — it can be trained. This is especially true when it comes to your thoughts. You can essentially trick your brain into being happy by pretending you’re happy. Really! This is how I typically fend it off. Did you know that the act of smiling makes your brain start to release chemicals as if you’re actually happy? This is why I choose to smile as much as possible, laugh easily, and dance often. All of these are cues to your brain that life is a-okay. (Psst — want a playlist of the happiest songs ever to dance to? I’ve got you covered.)
• Doing things that genuinely make you happy
• Puppies » This may or may not be proven but tell me I’m wrong.

Like I said, there are countless more, and I’ll be sure to cover as many as I can on this blog, which brings me to my last tip: Find a passion. Find something that lights you up, gets you going, and brings a joy into your life. For me, writing and talking about things like this that have to do with health and healing really does give me the fire I need to keep going.

The most important thing to note if you have depression: it IS possible for you to be happy.

I’ve been able to push through my depression many times before, and I know I will do it again. I may have to battle it my entire life, but I’m not scared. I’m a depression-fighting pro at this point.

It’s certainly not easy. Most days I fail to defend myself from its attack more than I succeed. Trust me when I say I know what it is to be absolutely hopeless.

But I’ve got good news for you — you don’t need hope. Getting better is not a matter of if, but when. You just need faith.

By faith, I mean simply trust that this WILL get better. Hold on tight and don’t give up, because this isn’t forever. The one thing that’s a sure thing in our lives is that time doesn’t stop, and time heals. Try anything and everything you can to not give in to your depression, and keep going because it will eventually slink away, leaving you to live your happiest damn life ever.

We’ll get through this.

Do you also struggle from depression, or have you in the past? If you have any tips for coping, please share with me in the Comments below!

xo,

Amy