How to hold space for emotional events
I entitled my October newsletter “Holding Space,” which went out on Friday. I shared a number of emotive experiences that I have every October, but this month, I shared more than most (my son also got married). If you want to receive my monthly newsletter in your inbox, click here. Newsletters are usually filled with book and film recommendations, spiritual perspectives, and contemplative or self-effacing stories. I also share news about speaking events or book news. This month, I just talked about feelings.
It’s been one of those weekends.
I’ll share a piece of the helpful part of that newsletter below, the wisdom about holding space for joy and sorrow. I’m also listing links to blogs about events that have prompted my obsession with holding space. They explore and unpack the importance of addressing heartache instead of filling the emptiness with distraction. I think they will be helpful to you as well.
- My parents’ birthday is today, on Halloween. I’ve written a lot about grief:
- My father died in a naval air crash in 1969, which I write about here.
- My mother died from dementia in 2016. I write about handling this great, lingering grief here:
- I had my 56th birthday this week. For the moment, I’m clear about my age, but somewhere around mid-2023, I’ll forget and then be horribly surprised later by how hold I actually am. I may freak a little and then make my husband assure me that I don’t look my age. As if that changes anything.
- My second-born son got married Saturday to an absolutely incredible girl. I write about those kinds of changes to motherhood here:
And now for holding space.
Holding space preserves our identities during transition periods that threaten to erase who we are meant to be. This holding practice keeps us from completely losing ourselves when life rushes us toward change and into new realities. I’m not talking about hanging on to the past. There’s no point in that. It’s gone. I’m talking about how to move on without denying yourself of the good things you can no longer experience or recreate.
Holding space gives you permission to remember, savor, and appreciate something you used to have that you no longer actually have. The trick, I think, is gratefulness. Without it, bitterness and regret wait greedily to consume.
HOW DO YOU HOLD SPACE?
The phrase “holding space” is a term used in therapy. Maybe that’s where I got it. It means to be emotionally, physically, spiritually, and mentally present for someone, even yourself. It is the act of creating and maintaining personal safety. It is anti-fear training. Click here for more info.
That makes sense. Grief is basically fear. When I’m grieving a loss of something, I’m afraid I won’t be happy in the future. Or I’m afraid I won’t recover from the past. Or I’m afraid simply because I don’t feel like myself and I worry that I will never be myself again.
Can you identify with those fears?
Then you have grieved. And by acknowledging the struggle—and transition—from one stage to the next—you have courageously decided to hold space for yourself to adjust. You have dared to imagine another life and another version of yourself.
You have grown. And therefore, you will have joy in the growing and the exploring of something else new and exciting, that one day you’ll miss when its time has ended.
Practical ways to hold space for yourself or someone else
- Celebrate the wins, even if they’re small
- Remember with your senses
- Honor what made you who you are
- Dream about what might still happen
- Listen to heartache but believe it’s only a piece of the story
- Express how you feel (write a poem, a song, a blog, a letter, etc.)
This weekend, we hung out with old friends and family. We ate a lot of carbs. We stayed up late laughing. We danced (me, not well, but my husband can boogie like the best of them!) We collected seashells and dug our feet in the sand. We also shivered in strong wind from the ocean (we had all kinds of weather this weekend!) We opened gifts and gave gifts. We took pictures and posted online. We attempted to hold every visual and emotional image in our minds. We listened to vows written from the heart and toasts given by brothers who normally don’t tell each other how much they admire one another. We prayed over our children and thanked their friends. We said a lot of good-byes. We cried.
I’m trying to hold space for all of it. Honestly, it’s overwhelming, so I’m sure I’m not doing it right. Somehow, I need to let the little things go and hold the best close. But when it comes to love, all of it feels like big things. It all feels important. The details form the big picture, and the big picture keeps us grounded in the reality of everlasting love.
