Learning to Grieve as Men

Why We Need to Stop Running From Pain

Last week, I sat across from a client who was carrying the weight of his friend's words: "I'm tired of grieving." His friend had lost several close buddies in just a couple of years. The exhaustion in those four words hit me like a truck.

We talked about this impossible tension we all face. Grief is absolutely necessary, but it can also drown us if we're not careful.

Here's what I've learned: both things can be true at the same time.

If you want to dive deeper into this topic, I did a podcast about grief that explores some of these ideas further:

What Grief Actually Is

Grief is our felt sense of loss. It's what happens when someone or something we cared about is gone to any capacity, and that bond we had gets severed without our permission. It feels uncertain, unpredictable and uncomfortable.

Most of us weren't exactly raised with a grief manual. Sure, we've been to funerals. We've worn the black suit or dress, shaken hands, and heard people say "I'm sorry for your loss." But past that? We're pretty much winging it.

Our culture taught us to buy something when we feel bad, or just stay busy enough that we don't have to think about it. People mean well when they offer prayers and condolences, but they leave us with this gaping hole of not knowing what to actually do with what we're feeling.

The lie we all tend to believe if that, if I push it down, ignore it or avoid it, then it will go away. But it doesn’t. It’s yours. The longer you take to face it, the greater the unnecessary suffering happens to you.

The thing is, none of us gets a choice about whether we'll face loss. The only choice we get is how we'll respond to it.

Four Types of Grievers

The Avoider is someone who is aware that grief is present but does everything they can to avoid it. This is done through staying busy, constant stimulation and resisting stillness and silence.

The Optimist is someone who only sees the bright side and ignores the power and gravity of grief. This is done through a pep rally spirit that believes staying positive is the cure.

The Downer is someone who is overwhelmed by grief to the point of being defined by it. This happens through being overly present and engaged with the negative feelings that come with grieving.

The Unawarer is someone who isn't even aware of the presence or need to grieve in their life. This type is most rare but is done through living in a way that numbs you out and shuts you down in a constant state of apathy.

The Anger That Comes Before The Tears

Here's something I've noticed in my work with people (specifically men): we often get angry before we get sad.

When loss hits, the first emotion that surfaces is usually rage. Anger at God, anger at the unfairness, anger at ourselves for not doing more, anger at the person who left us. We punch walls, slam doors, and snap at people who don't deserve it.

But here's what I've learned: anger is often a bodyguard for sadness.

It's easier to be pissed off than to admit we're heartbroken. Anger feels powerful; sadness feels weak. Anger gives us something to do with our energy; sadness asks us to just sit with the pain. The problem is, we've been taught that anger is the only acceptable emotional response for men. We can be frustrated, irritated, or furious, but we better not cry. We can rage about injustice, but we better not admit we're scared or lonely or lost.

This is killing us.

Men need to cry, yell, scream and groan. We need to feel the full weight of our losses. We need to share our struggles with others in honest ways instead of bottling it up, sucking it up, or pretending we're fine when we're falling apart.

The strongest thing you can do isn't to tough it out alone. It's to let yourself feel what you actually feel and find safe people to share it with.

What Actually Helps

I've found a few things that make a real difference:

Take inventory of your losses. Not just the big, obvious ones. The smaller disappointments, the friendships that faded, the dreams that didn't pan out. All of it matters. Name the pain.

Learn to be still. This is the hardest one for most guys. We're not used to sitting with our thoughts without distraction. But grief needs space and emptiness to be processed. It’s in the silence and stillness we find our enoughness.

Find someone safe to talk to. A partner, therapist, a pastor, a friend who won't try to fix you. Someone who can handle your mess without trying to clean it up. Start by naming that person and asking for some intentional, unrushed time to practice this.

Figure out what you need. Sometimes you need to cry alone in your car. Sometimes you need to look through old photos. Sometimes you need to hit something at the gym. There's no wrong way to process loss. The key is to start consistently and safely processing it. I relate it to opening up a soda bottle quickly. The drink will explode sporadically if you shake it all at once. By slowly but consistently opening the cap, you alleviate the pressure and effectively release the tension.

The Balance We're All Learning

Grief is personal and messy and there's no timeline for it. We're all trying to find that sweet spot between not running away from our pain and not letting it consume us completely.

The goal isn't to "get over" loss. The goal is to learn how to carry it in a way that doesn't break us.

Here's what I know: healing is waiting for us, even when we can't see it. Even when it doesn't look like what we expected.

Just as real as the pain was that caused the grief is the healing that causes the gratitude.

Questions

• Which type of griever are you?

• What loss are you avoiding right now?

• How can you honor your past without getting stuck in it?

Quote

"How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard." -Winnie the Pooh