Anxiety- The Missing Stage of Grief

by Claire Bidwell Smith

  At my friend’s suggestion, I began taking private instruction from a meditation teacher. Her name was Juliette, and every week I would go to her tiny apartment and we would sit on little round pillows opposite each other, and she would guide me through the beginning practice of learning to quiet my mind. It was incredibly difficult at first. I couldn’t believe what she was asking of me. The more I tried to stop thinking, the more the thoughts came. Grocery lists and bills I needed to pay, thoughts about how the little pillow was uncomfortable, and worries that Juliette was judging me. The more I tried to get quiet, the more I struggled.

  After five minutes she would ring a little bell, and I would open my eyes and she would ask me to tell her how it went. I was honest with her and told her how I struggled and how I couldn’t stop the thoughts. She smiled and explained to me that she didn’t want me to stop them. Instead, she wanted me to notice them. She asked me to observe my thoughts and feel compassion for myself, not scorn, for whatever the thoughts were. I would shift in my seat and close my eyes, and we would go again.

  After a little while, I began to understand what she was talking about. Whereas my thoughts had always felt like just who I was, suddenly I realized there was a part of me that was separate from them, a part of me that was able to act as an observer of my thoughts. I was struck with the sudden realization that the thoughts were just that—thoughts. They weren’t the whole of who I was. I remember popping open my eyes in the middle of the meditation when I realized this.

  Juliette smiled when I told her about my revelation. From that moment on, I began to grow stronger in my practice, and as soon as I learned to let go of controlling or worrying about the thoughts and just observing them instead, they began to lose their power. This experience changed everything about who I am and how I live my life today. It was the beginning of my transformation.

  Not long into my practice, I also began to notice a difference in my days. Each time I became aware that I was having an anxious or a sad thought, I was able to pause and observe it rather than grab on to it as I always had, following it down a rabbit hole of emotional and physical responses. And once I became more of an observer of these thoughts rather than a slave to them, their power began to diminish and I became discernibly more peaceful, less anxious and sad, and much happier as a result. It was a truly remarkable shift in my life.

  This is why I love to share this tool with you. The results are often so immediate and almost always long-lasting.

  My client James is another great example. James was in his late thirties when he came to see me after the loss of his father. He was deep in grief, overwhelmed by all the changes about what he thought his future looked like, and he was also experiencing debilitating periods of anxiety and panic attacks.

  After a number of weeks of working with James to normalize his anxiety and deeply process his grief over this loss, I knew he was ready to move on to mindfulness. Like the place I’d been in when I found it, James was willing to try anything that might alleviate his anxious thoughts. Although he was skeptical about meditation, he began to give it a try, and the results were remarkable. James was soon able to feel much more control over his anxiety and also find a deeper level of peace in his life.

  Three years after our time together in grief therapy ended, I invited James back to my office to talk with him for this book. I was thrilled to hear about the long-lasting impact our work had on him and am excited to share his thoughts with you. For anyone who is still feeling skeptical about the practices I’m introducing you to in this chapter, know that James was too, but today he lives a life remarkably different from when we first met.

  JAMES’S STORY

  Anxiety was the primary thing that brought me into therapy. It was so overwhelming. I think that it began about a month to six weeks after my father died. I’d remained at my family’s home for a little while after he died, and then I came back home and started work almost immediately. It was the normal everyday work stresses that amplified it.

  The primary thing that would happen to me usually had to do with work—like a normal, everyday stress that hadn’t bothered me before, a deadline or something of that nature, would come up—and instead of being able to act in that moment, it was like I couldn’t breathe. That was the most common thing. I would have to run outside or try to get outside as fast as I could. The environment felt claustrophobic. I would end up just outside trying to catch my breath.

  I have a job that can be stressful at times. It’s production related. So there are moments when it’s stressful, but never like that. And the other thing that would happen was an explosion of emotion sometimes. Like, I didn’t see it coming, and all of a sudden I would get so angry with someone, like in a way that I wouldn’t have otherwise.

  I knew it was a panic attack. But I had an idea of how to get out of it, too. You know just by consciously working on the breathing, but I didn’t have control of when they would hit. They would just hit sometimes while crying about my dad late at night. I remember a couple of times just in my bedroom late at night—just that shortness of breath. I would stand up and walk a little bit, force the breathing, and calm myself down.

  The panic had to do with the absolute nature of death. It had to do with the fact that I felt that I wasn’t going to talk to my father again. Or at least prior to the recommendation that I write letters to him—that changed everything—it really did. It was just this sense that I couldn’t talk to my friend anymore.

  I kept finding myself getting really emotional in situations that didn’t call for it. When I learned about meditation, I thought it was sort of mumbo jumbo. And then I started trying it slowly. It took some time. I’m cautious with new things. But the meditation was the first and probably primary means of getting some relief and a little bit of control back in my life. Prior to that, things were just happening to me. It felt different from any other part of my life.

  I began to achieve a place where I could just kind of scratch the surface of getting control of my mind and then move a little bit more forward with that. And knowing that I wasn’t going to have these herniations of emotions and explosions, that was a great relief, just being able to get a little back to normalcy and control.

  A large reason I was experiencing so many panic attacks and anxiety was because I had just reached a point of not knowing what to do with my grief. But talking about it certainly just relieved a weight.

  In many ways, I’m kind of glad I went through it all. I was given the gift of learning meditation. And I never wanted to lose my dad, but its inevitability was always there. He was quite sick for a number of years, so it was no surprise. I learned a lot about myself.

  There are certain parts about that segment of my life that are lucid clear. Losing my shit sometimes—I almost got in a street fight once because of it. I was threatening to beat up a guy over a parking spot once! And I don’t do that sort of thing. I was really someone else.

  Now my anxiety is back to the base level that it was prior. I don’t snap much at all. I would say it’s at a relatively healthy level. My grief is kind of different since the birth of my son last year. It returned for a while, in a much smaller way. I miss my father so much. He is my son… it’s crazy. His energy and his strength are just so reminiscent of my dad. So the grief comes and goes. I think the thing is with grief, when I didn’t know how to deal with it, it was terrifying and overpowering, and it caused me anxiety. Now that it doesn’t cause me to feel that way, I can deal with it. I’m able to cry about it and miss him. I still write him a letter every once in a while.

  My advice to someone who is experiencing grief anxiety is to, first and foremost, try to be open to meditation. Consider it as a means to kind of get control of your thoughts again, to maybe even find peace in your thought processes. The anxiety in particular, if it makes itself present in the form of a panic attack, I don’t think there’s anything better than meditation in that case. Because you will be able to know what you’re dealing with.

>   James’s experience with meditation is similar to that of many of my clients. He began with a healthy dose of skepticism, and that’s understandable. When you’re experiencing anxiety, you just want to get a handle on it. Something like meditation can sound so ethereal. But once you really start to apply these methods, the relief and the new sense of control you’ll feel over your thoughts will be palpable.

  And if you have anger issues like James, and feel yourself getting emotional in situations that don’t call for it or lashing out in unexpected ways, meditation can really help. James thought of it as mumbo jumbo but then started to try it and found great relief.

  People have been using techniques of mindfulness and meditation for thousands of years, but it is only since the 1960s that this approach to wellness and healing has expanded into Western culture. Jon Kabat-Zinn founded the Stress Reduction Clinic at the University of Massachusetts Medical Center in 1979, where he and his colleagues used these tools to help many people cope with stress and anxiety.

  Kabat-Zinn’s studies have shown that meditation causes significant reduction in symptoms of anxiety and panic in patients with generalized anxiety disorder and panic disorder. Kabat-Zinn has gone on to publish many books about mindfulness, but his first book, Wherever You Go, There You Are: Mindfulness Meditation in Everyday Life, is one I consistently recommend my clients read.

  So what is mindfulness, exactly? While often used in conjunction with meditation, it’s a bit different. Mindfulness is the concept of compassionate, nonjudgmental awareness of the present moment. It is a gentle way of paying closer attention to yourself and your life and an invitation to develop a deeper relationship with your own experience. This includes your experience of anxiety, fear, and sadness. Cultivating this awareness takes time and practice, but the benefits are enormous.

  As you now know, anxiety and panic arise from fear-based thoughts rather than an actual physical threat. Anxiety is the feeling that something is wrong rather than there actually being something in the room with you that is physical distressing. It’s the fear of getting cancer, or of experiencing more loss, instead of something that is actually happening in the moment, such as a home intruder. This is why learning how to observe our thoughts, rather than reacting to them, is the key to gaining control of your anxiety.

  Fearful thoughts send a message to our body to create a response. If we choose to let these thoughts dominate our brains, then the amygdala, the section of the brain responsible for detecting fear and preparing for emergency events, becomes stimulated, increasing our heart rate, breathing, and adrenaline. Catching ourselves in the moment and working to simply be aware of the thoughts, rather than believing them, we are able to send a message to our brains that will begin to calm the central nervous system instead of continuing to activate it.

  So how do we do this? The first step is in learning simple meditation techniques. Learning how to sit still and become aware of our thoughts as they arise is the initial work. Take a deep breath. Look around the room or environment you are currently in. Take note of the air temperature and how your body feels. Are you hungry? Thirsty? Hot? Cold? Bring yourself as fully into the present moment as you can. Remind yourself that this is the only moment that exists. The future scenarios you are feeling anxious about are not real, and they may never be. You are right here, right now, and you are alive and safe.

  Even if the anxiety continues to pulse through your body, that is okay. Use the sensation of your breathing to help you stay present. Do not feel discouraged if anxious thoughts continue to come. In mindfulness it is not a mistake to feel upset. Instead, this is an opportunity to use this practice of present-moment awareness to change how you relate to the experience of these feelings. Observe them rather than believe them.

  Mindfulness breaks the cycle of anxious thoughts that are fueling your central nervous system. It also gives your body a chance to support the natural capacity of the cortical centers to interpret the situation in a safer context. You may not be able to stop the thoughts, but you can learn not to identify with them or believe them. In this way, even though you have not stopped your thoughts, they begin to lose the power to control you.

  While all of these are good things to think about in the face of feeling anxiety and panic, working to practice mindfulness and meditation during times when you are not anxious will give you greater control when you are.

  HOW TO MEDITATE

  Meditation is not as difficult as you may believe. You do not need a special environment, and you do not need any tools you do not already innately possess. Meditation is not about reaching some nirvana-like state that seems attainable only by Buddhist monks. Mindfulness is simply about bringing compassionate awareness to your present moment. But when we are grieving, this is often the opposite of what we are naturally drawn to doing.

  When we are grieving, our thoughts are all over the place. We are reviewing the past—how we lost our loved one, the things we did and didn’t do at the end, old memories, and images of our loved one. We are also consumed with thoughts of the future and how our life looks different now without that person. We are revising future dates and events—processing what it will be like to move through life without that person going forward. But neither of those thought patterns is about the present moment. So again, learning to gently bring your awareness back to the present will serve you.

  You may feel afraid that dwelling so much in the present moment will mean you are letting go of memories of your person or that you will not be spending enough time thinking and planning for the future, but mindfulness is not asking that of you. Trust me, you will still think plenty about the past and the future. Mindfulness is simply asking you to add in more time to devote to the present moment, especially when you are anxious.

  A great way to begin to explore meditation is by taking a class or workshop. It can be helpful to have in-person guidance and the motivation of having other people around you doing the same as a way to concentrate on this practice. But that is something you can try when you are ready. For now, I want to walk you through some simple ways you can explore and begin to practice at home.

  GUIDED MEDITATION

  First, find a quiet space where you can be uninterrupted for a period of time. Within that space, find a comfortable position. I don’t recommend lying down because sometimes you may fall asleep in this position (although this comes in handy in the middle of the night when you can’t sleep!) . So find a comfortable seated position in a chair or just on a pillow on the floor. Try to get yourself into a position where you won’t be inclined to move much for at least five minutes. I like to sit in a chair with a back and have both of my feet on the floor, legs uncrossed, with my hands resting gently in my lap. I’ll ask you to time your meditation, so set a timer for five minutes (you can also rely on your own timing, although choosing to rely on your own internal clock may cause you to think more about time while you’re trying to meditate).

  Now close your eyes, and first just take some breaths and orient yourself to this space. Begin to note any tension in your body. Notice where you are holding the tension, and take a moment to release it. Relax your shoulders, unclench your jaw, and let your tongue be soft in your mouth and your eyelids be heavy and closed. Now just begin to breathe normally through your nostrils.

  As you breathe, focus your awareness on the feeling of air entering your nostrils. Keep your awareness right there, and use the actual feeling of the air coming and going to keep your attention focused there. If you hear an outside noise or your foot suddenly feels itchy, just note those things and return your attention to your breath. You will notice that thoughts will begin to come and go. You may think of your grocery list or the plans you have for this evening. You may have a sad thought about your loved one or an anxious thought about the future.

  Notice those thoughts as they arise. Do not judge them; try not to feel annoyed or disappointed with yourself for having them. Just observe them. Let them come and go. You don’t need to grab
on to them and follow them, going from one grocery item to another—just let it go. You can always think about your grocery list when you come out of meditation. Observe each thought as it arises, and do your best to view this process with compassion.

  Becoming an observer of your thoughts is what is key here. The goal is not to silence your thoughts altogether, although that is something that may begin to occur as you develop a deeper and more regular process. For now, all you are working to do is observe your thoughts rather than react to them. Choose to return to your breath over and over again. And watch the thoughts come.

  After five minutes, slowly blink open your eyes and bring your awareness back to the room. Take a deep breath, and move your body around a little, shaking out any tension. You can now choose to end your practice, or you can close your eyes and do another five or ten minutes. In the beginning of developing a practice, it can be helpful to practice a couple of times back-to-back like this.

  But whether you continue for another round or not, take a moment and note the experience you just had. What was easy about it? What was hard? Were you able to observe your thoughts rather than following them? How did it feel to do that? Did you notice a difference in control? Feel free to keep a journal in the beginning phases of building a practice, and write down your observations after each session.

  WHERE AND WHEN TO MEDITATE

  What I remember most about my initial experiences with mindfulness is that my early meditation practice filtered so quickly into my overall life experience. While I did not feel that I had mastered meditation yet, I very quickly began to be able to notice my thoughts in a way that I never had before. The relief was so huge for me. Whereas I had spent my days prior to meditation being controlled by my anxious thoughts, I no longer felt that I had to let them control me. I noticed them when they came, but I did not feed into them.