I Did an Experiment, and The Results are In; Coffee Can’t Cure Grief

(And neither does time.)

I arrived at work 20 minutes early, hoping to get some paperwork done, return emails, and have a third cup of coffee. My office is a hot mess littered with piles of paperwork that I’ve been planning to sort through “once Covid is over,” whatever that means.

But instead, I curled up on the floor and cried.

Isn’t it funny how tears don’t ask for permission to run down your cheeks? They didn’t get the “me too” memo. They touch me when and where I don’t want to be touched. I didn’t ask for this.

Damn it. I was going to sort those piles of clutter.

I’ve just been so tired lately. Sheer exhaustion I don’t recognize.

So I thought I had figured out what the problem was. My amazing husband very thoughtfully picked out some fancy coffee from Whole Foods for me to replace my normal Aldi brand. I usually put four tablespoons of coffee in my French Press. I decided this bougie coffee might not be as strong, so I gradually added more and more.

Five tablespoons.

Six tablespoons.

I still wasn’t waking up. Where had my energy gone?

I’m a fast-moving machine. Or at least I used to be. I haven’t needed to set an alarm clock for over a decade. I used to wake up before 5 AM feeling well-rested and refreshed. That’s when the sprinting would start. Go for a run, dash off to work, throw something together for dinner and then relax for family time.

As a mental health professional, I am fully aware of the value of mindfulness and intentional living, but it has always been hard for me to put it into practice.

It’s not for lack of trying. I downloaded a meditation app, took a private yoga class, and I tried to improve my diet. All my efforts felt forced and frustrating.

And Now I Am Finally Exhausted

It’s grief.

My Dad died six weeks ago.

I don’t feel awake yet. I’m not hiding in bed all day, but I feel like I’m sleepwalking.

No amount of coffee is helping me feel my energetic spirit. I wait for it, but it’s not coming yet.

I Miss You, Dad

I know you’re in a better place. I know your suffering is over, and I know you have given me everything I need.

I’m 51 years old, for goodness sake.

My heart wrenches for young children who lose a parent or a parent who loses a child. But a 51 year-old-grown up should be ready to carry on after losing an 80-year-old father. I was blessed by the opportunity to be by his side for his last breath and to say my goodbyes while he was still mentally there.

Why do I feel like a small child?

I don’t want to be a small business owner right now. I don’t want to be in charge of a household full of kids and pets. I can’t do things like pay bills and wipe down dirty counters. It all feels so hard.

My friends are gently telling me I need to slow down. They send supportive texts asking me how I’m doing. And I start to cry again. I feel so loved and so grateful to be surrounded by such amazing people.

I Started a Meditation Program

My meditation guide is half my age, but he carries the wisdom of a millennium.

It turns out I’m not advanced enough to meditate on my own quite yet. I just needed someone to sit across from me on the floor and gently help me out.

I had never been able to slow down and just be until I had someone sitting with me. An hour goes by with my new teacher, and I feel like I could sit for another three.

It’s a little embarrassing to admit this because I feel like I should have figured it out before now. I finally know the difference between actually sitting in mediation and impatiently going through breathing exercises and calling it meditating.

It took my dad’s death to actually slow me down. I had met my match with the physical, emotional, and mental fatigue that weighed me down. Tears came whenever they want to, and my body knows that this is just too important to ignore.

It’s Love

Maybe this is obvious to you, but for me, it hit me like a ton of bricks.

My tears are not assaulting me; they are healing me. The exhaustion is not weak coffee; it is an invitation to slow down.

I was wrong all along in looking for a cure for my grief. I wouldn't be sad if I didn’t love my dad so much. I wouldn’t be lost and feeling like a little kid if I hadn’t had such joyful and wise fathering. I don’t have to be tired because all I have to do is stop sprinting.

I Am in Awe

There is a spiritual force that is larger than me. It is behind the eyes of my meditation instructor as he tells me he is delighted to see me. I honestly can feel his delight. He says it in a way that I believe him.

He feels delight when he sees me, not because I am so delightful, but because he knows how to be with himself and, therefore with me.

Now that I, too am paying attention, I am in awe of the ways my dad has been showing up for me. I see his face. I hear his voice. I feel his grace.

Thanks, Dad :)

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