On grief, hiding and healing

When my dad died, I went into hiding. I barely had contact with the world outside: outside of the walls of our house, outside of our little family unit, outside of the boundaries drawn by my skin. The world became a foreign and intolerable place of little appeal.

‘But you always speak about how we were never meant to grieve alone, how community and connection is paramount in grief.’ I do. And I stand by that.

But not every contact with ‘the world outside’ is a moment of connection. Of community. Of support. To venture out in the world felt like hoisting myself in armour, strapping in tight, pulling down the visor and taking one last, deep breath before holding it all in for the next few hours. It wasn’t like stepping into community. It was like stepping out into a torrential hurricane. A stark reminder of what wasn’t, what couldn’t, what shouldn’t.

David Whyte wrote in Consolations: The Solace, Nourishment and Underlying Meaning of Everyday Words:

“Hiding is a way of holding ourselves until we are ready to come into the light. Hiding is one of the brilliant and virtuoso practices of almost every part of the natural world: the protective quiet of an icy northern landscape, the held bud of a future summer rose, the snow bound internal pulse of the hibernating bear. Hiding is underestimated. We are hidden by life in our mother’s womb until we grow and ready ourselves for our first appearance in the lighted world; to appear too early in that world is to find ourselves with the immediate necessity for outside intensive care. […] Hiding is an act of freedom from the misunderstanding of others.”

Those of us who have found ourselves lucky enough to be able to hide from the world during the worst of our storms (and I say lucky, recognising the tremendous privilege that is being able to hide in this high speed world of demand and - for many - survival), will have found the unique healing qualities this retreat. In many tales of mythology and folklore, caves signify the portal to transformation. And so as we burrow deep down into the caves of our most inner world, once we feel ready to walk towards the light again, we emerge a different being. We have stood at the bottom of our inner oceans, found refuges in the protective caves of our soul, and have left there the old layers of skin and armour we would no longer need in the world as we walked it anew.