Ep 09. Unresolved Grief

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I consider myself very fortunate that my parents have never laid a guilt trip on us for moving away. They get it. They really really do, because of their own travels and adventures. The only thing that was ever said was my Mom told me (with a sigh), “Now I understand what we did to our parents, taking the grandchildren away.”

At the time, that didn’t sink in fully. I did know it was a big deal, but our own sense of adventure was bigger than that.

It was later, as my children grew and there were so many everyday moments that simply could not be captured through photos, or on video or a skype call, that could only be shared by spending extended time together in person, I began to ache for the loss. Something my kids didn’t even know they’d lost, but our parents felt acutely even if they’d accepted it … and it was my loss too, not seeing them enjoy each other.

There’s a particular stretch of road that I drive 2-3 times every day. And I associate that place – that bend in the road, that vision, or view – with a feeling of near overwhelming longing. An ache that’s so strong my chest burns, my throat gets tight, tears spring to my eyes, as I feel the intense separation from “home.” 

Maybe it’s something about where that spot is in my drive – at that stage I’ve been driving for about 15 minutes, so my mind has relaxed and wandered to an emotional place.

But then I arrive home. As I crest the last hill, suddenly the ocean is there, and it’s such a very soothing view. I wonder if it’s related to one of my happiest memories from childhood when we lived at the beach for a year. But it does help me feel happier and more connected somehow. Then it’s time to get out of the car, physically move, pick up my bags, help everyone get into the house, put things away, and that activity and shift of focus means I shake off that longing and get involved in life.

Which means, I’ve never talked to anyone about those feelings.

I kind of assumed everyone felt that way. When they say they miss their family, I kind of thought it was that same intensity for everyone.

Until it hit me rather suddenly, how much unresolved grief I’ve had in my life. Even though I grew up in a very stable household.

My own story of unresolved grief

We moved a lot when I was very young. Five major moves, international or transcontinental moves, between age 1 and 8. From South Carolina to Hawaii, to Japan, to Oregon, to Hawaii, and finally my dad retired from the Navy and we moved to a farm, in Missouri. But in those moves I was little, and the stability of my family is what mattered most.

Strangely, it’s after we were settled in a permanent spot, that’s when the losses began. 

When we moved to the farm I started 3rd grade and quickly made a best friend. Unfortunately, at the end of that year her family moved away. In 4th grade I made a new best friend. Unfortunately, at the end of that year, her family moved away. 

For the next couple of years I drifted, never really finding that super special friend. Maybe I should mention that my whole life, I’ve had 1-2 close friends at a time, so these losses really changed my world.

In 7th grade I changed schools, and found a soulmate best friend. We were incredibly close. Just before 9th grade began, I received a letter from her that was shocking and devastating. Her mother had forced her to cut off our friendship. Due to a combination of religious and political differences, and influenced by mental illness. Many years later I learned more about that, but at the time it was beyond comprehension. It was incredibly painful and confusing, and we passed each other in the hallways several times a day but didn’t make eye contact.

Later we took up our friendship, secretly. We passed a notebook back and forth between our lockers, and filled pages and pages. She lived in fear of her mother finding out that actually it wasn’t that her homework took so long, but she was writing to me.

And then, just before our senior year of high school, she left. 

She joined a cloistered convent. From there she could have no communication with the outside world. I went to her robing ceremony and got to talk to her briefly through a “window” – but it was a window with two layers of bars to prevent physical contact. 

She hadn’t died, but for me it felt similar in a lot of ways.

In college I had 2 best friends. But in the third year one of them basically cut off our friendship because she didn’t approve of my boyfriend… to whom I’ve now been happily married to for 22 years. And that drama affected the remaining friend, who some time later declared she just wanted to be left alone.

When I tell this story out loud, I feel like oh my gosh, what’s wrong with ME? For all these people to have left me! What’s the common thread here? Me. But really, I’m wonderful!

My coach said, this was an incredible string of events, as if the Universe handed me these experiences of loss so that I could serve others more deeply later.

I said, ummm Thank you, Universe … ? 

Back to that near-constant ache I described at the beginning. That visceral longing for home that I’ve felt most of my time overseas, and threatened to overwhelm me, almost daily. Even though I was very happy, I should say! I loved the life we were living. 

AND I had a deep deep desire for my kids to know their grandparents intimately, and for their grandparents to get to delight in the everyday moments that only come from spending hours together in person.

Sometimes I thought, Wow, if I feel this way, I wonder what it’s like for Third Culture Kids who have a lot of unresolved grief! I’ve read about how grief that isn’t resolved can accumulate, or get carried along until later, waiting to be expressed, possibly making the next grief even stronger. And I wondered, what does that look like or feel like? 

It was only about two years ago I realized this is probably unresolved grief rearing its head in my adult life. I’m happy to say, the moment I realized it, that longing evaporated and I was able to be fully present and accept my life HERE. 

Yeah, I do still miss my family and there are moments when my childrens’ personalities come out in ways that I really wish I could capture so our parents could delight in them as much as we do. But those are occasional now. It’s not a constant part of my everyday existence.

I think it’s quite amazing that just that realization dissolved such strong feelings. But how powerful! To know what’s going on with you.

TCKs have various experiences

I see TCKs talking about how their un-rooted upbringing has affected them. Some express a constant longing for another place or other people. Some express recognition of destructive patterns in relationships, like never fully opening up, or not investing in a relationship because they assume it’ll end soon anyway. Or a distinct pulling out of relationships prior to a separation. Or anger, or a variety of expressions.

How can we help?

How can we pre-emptively work with grief and loss, so it gets processed now, not buried only to resurface later?

One way is ceremonies or rites of passage.

I remember our first year abroad, we loved the community we moved into, made so many fantastic connections, we revelled in this new world that had opened up to us where we had friends from many countries. Coworkers were like family. Truly. And we were just getting settled. We had not appreciated that some of our new found friends had been at that school for several years already and they were ready to move on to some place new. So the transient nature of the expat population was a real shock to my system. In the spring when I realized how many people were leaving, it shook me to the core.

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You know when you feel like you’ve made it through the uncertainty and chaos of that international move… the kids have settled pretty well… Yet those questions about how the move would impact your kids are still there, even if they’re quieter now. My Effortless Family Connection online workshop opens up conversations you didn’t know how to have, helps you process together, integrate your transition into a healthy outlook, and feel closer. Follow the Workshop link in the show notes for more details.

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There was a farewell dinner, where each departing staff member had a tribute of some kind. Usually this was done by one of their closest friends, so it was really heartfelt and personal. It was wrenching. So many tears.

A couple years later it was decided that those events were too emotional, it was too hard to get through them, so the format was changed. Each person did get a very short speech, but it was kept light and professional. It was easier to get through. There was a sense of relief that everyone could attend and not have to dredge through a load of grief in public.

But after attending that, I realized it also was not cathartic. It was not a true celebration of what that person meant to us, how we’d been touched and changed and had grown as a result of knowing that person, how that person had contributed to making this community complete because of their unique interests and talents and humor and care.

It was left to individuals who felt strongly, who were the closest friends, to celebrate in the ways they decided.

I see how that is appropriate. And more comfortable for a lot of people. And I don’t want to say there’s a right and a wrong way to conduct these farewell ceremonies. 

Clearly I’m someone who really needed the catharsis, because of my own unresolved grief, these goodbyes hit me probably harder than other people.

Be sure to express your appreciation

So what I’ve found for myself is I need to make sure that I’ve expressed to the person what they’ve meant to me. Some relationships in this expat life are lovely and wonderful but more peripheral, while some have touched me deeply – even if they weren’t super close friends. So when I’m having a really hard time letting go of someone, whether or not we were “close” friends, I take time to put into words what they’ve meant to me. I write it out … I sit with my feelings long enough that I can sort through them and put them into words. That time that I take writing out my feelings is my cathartic process. Usually by the end of writing it out, I’ve come to a place of acceptance and am ready to move forward.

This year, the usual goodbye events and traditions have been disrupted, and it’s been a lot harder. I think it does help to gather in person, to share in the appreciation.

A lot of the events I’ve been to are a bit like a wake … people are sad, but taking strength from being together, finding reasons to talk about memories as they flip through photo albums, finding reasons to laugh because life goes on, sharing sadness, sharing hope.

But we couldn’t do that this year. And for one friend who was leaving, it felt SO inadequate. We decided to commission a custom illustration. The process of putting that together meant we had to think pretty hard about what we wanted to express, and how to express it. It was quite fun, and because of the time invested in creating the right collection of elements, it turned into a cathartic process and a celebration of that friendship.

If you’re ever looking for a unique gift for an expat, check out Drawn To A Story – Cath Brew is an artist who “gets” expat life and has an online store full of items plus she does custom work.

TCK Losses

Now in this life moving between countries, there’s a whole lot more that causes grief.

Third Culture Kids experience a lot of losses, tangible and intangible. 

• Loss of their world. 
• Status. 
• Lifestyle. 
• Possessions. 
• Role models. 
• Identity. 
• Life experiences they missed out on as a result of not living a traditional lifestyle. 

Here’s a poem you may have seen before, by Alex Graham James, called 

Mock Funeral.

There was no funeral.

No flowers.

No ceremony.

No one had died.

No weeping or wailing.

Just in my heart.

I can’t …

But I did anyway,

And nobody knew I couldn’t.

I don’t want to …

But nobody else said they didn’t.

So I put down my panic

and picked up my luggage

and got on the plane.

There was no funeral.

Third Culture Kids (TCKs) might have trouble acknowledging losses when they simultaneously have great things happening. They might find it really confusing to have sort of competing feelings, as if to admit the sadness or difficulty somehow negates the positives they do appreciate. 

So how can we help as parents?

You can help your child to hold the both–and of this life. You can help by acknowledging the hidden losses and providing ways to mourn them. You can help by validating the grief and giving permission for the grieving process to happen. Letting the person know their grief is accepted and understood shows them they’re not alone in their sorrow.

Be careful about encouragement. Too often, we as parents want to fix things for our children because we don’t want them to have to feel sad, and rush in with what we think is encouragement, but actually denies or discounts their grief. So often when we want to encourage gratitude, we’ll give some “noble” reasons why we need to put up with some hardships, but it can come across as shaming them.

For example, if your child says, “I don’t really want to go to ___ country” where you’re moving. And you say something like, “Well, we’re doing this for Dad’s job. Remember we need the money so we can send your sister to college, and you too.” A true statement, no doubt. And your child already knows this, no doubt. So the effect is running over your child’s feelings by not validating and giving space and time around those feelings. A simple response you can use instead, that works in a lot of situations is, “Yeah, I know it’s hard. Tell me more.” and then repeat back to them the feelings behind their statements.

I’m practicing this constantly with my 4 year old. “That made you mad. Because you felt like no one was listening. That’s so frustrating. And that made you feel lonely.” because I know that figuring out how she feels is the key. When she knows I “get it” the whole interaction changes. This is one of the hardest parts of parenting, because it’s not always clear at first what the feelings are. But when I’ve found it, there’s palpable relief and comfort. 

Same goes with my older kids, honestly. It looks different; their meltdowns are a lot more subtle. But the principle is the same. When I can put the feelings into words, they suddenly open up. And we’re communicating on a whole different level.

Workshops

Another option to help acknowledge hidden losses, express grief, and work it out is through family workshops. You could design your own if you have a copy of Ulrika Ernvik’s book Third Culture Kids A Gift To Care For. If you’d rather save some time with a ready made experience, And you like the idea of having a neutral third party facilitating – because sometimes our kids and spouses respond differently to someone from outside giving instructions – follow the link in the show notes for the Effortless Family Connection workshop.

Grief vs Mourning

There’s really no formula for dealing with loss and grief, other than it has to be addressed and worked out, and that’s the difference between grief and mourning.

Grief is what you think and feel on the inside when you experience loss. It’s going to happen no matter what. We can’t remove that. It’s part of life. 

Mourning is the working out of the grief, letting it out with some form of external expression, whether crying, writing, talking, punching. And mourning is what’s needed, and the only thing that works, to be able to heal and move on.

Resources

These topics are addressed in Pollock and Van Reken’s book, Third Culture Kids Growing Up Among Worlds, especially chapters 5 and 12, and in Wolfelt’s book Healing Your Grieving Heart for Teens 100 Practical Ideas – Simple tips for understanding and expressing your grief. That first book, Third Culture Kids, is excellent reading for all expat families and all TCKs, and I will say it’s quite readable but quite dense reading, and can be a bit heavy depending on your state of mind when you read it, although by the end I felt very hopeful. That second book, Healing your grieving heart, is super practical, and it’s just one idea per page. A few bullet points and lots of white space. That in itself makes it feel like a safe place that invites you to let go a bit. I really like it.

Wrap up

Today I’ve shared my story of what unresolved grief CAN look like later in life. I’d love to hear from you if you relate. Do you have unresolved grief? How does it play out in your life today?

And I’d love to hear about your methods of helping process lost relationships and other losses as well.

I’m always happy to hear from you, whether by email (kim at resilient expats .com) or in the facebook community (which you can find under facebook / groups / resilient expats).