How to Know if You are Stuck in Grief? @grieftherapist 

Do you have a paetron program set up for viewers to contribute monthly support in gratitude for your services?

I feel exactly the same. I feel Its aged me also.

I agree. I read another comment from someone else on another grief support video saying basically that "grief is not a "process" to "get through", but it is a condition of the soul." Now that we've suffered a tremendous, life-changing loss, that loss is permanent. And, so is the accompanying grief that goes with it. Maybe not feeling quite as deep or intense as in the early months as time goes on. But always there. Yeah. We're "stuck" (with it) as it's a part of us, now.

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Hugs

Please ask them to give you more time It is not fair of them 😢

jennifershort:. What a nightmare; so very sorry for all you're trying to muddle thro'. Wish I had wisdom to share; well-intentioned experiential advice that might offer something more than additional burden. I don't. I am not religious; that was forced upon me all my life. We have religion to thank for all the absurd platitudes & social attitudes presented as "norms." Together these are each and all masques for the basest urges of human behavior; you might say, "vulture culture." Or, simply, family. At 75, still having the awful nightmares EVERY NIGHT since childhood & only just now realizing this is "life on the freeway." Have always understood that "Life is hard. And only going to get harder.". As last resort, in early 40s, turned to the One I had loved as a child til I went to orphanage age 4+half. I got pretty mad at Him pretty quick & stayed mad very long time. One day, I found myself just sliding off foot of my bed into a 93# pile of bones, no longer able to go to my great big wonderful job decked in Calvin Klein paisley silk charmeuse or Ellen Tracey or Donna Karan mud boots. Guts had been bleeding for 10 years by then but I just painted my face & put on my really big show. A regular Emelda Marcos parade on Wilshire Blvd. (Every city on earth is L.A.) My last parade was the day before. No more parades. No more shows. No more war. The float would not float; the tank was tread-bare. The million-dollar retirement was not even a bag of pennies any more. All I could do as I went down was say, "I give.". [There was no parental home for me to be kicked out from; my siblings had already drained that & would continue to drain what I did have in future. I had been poisoned by the "cannot-say-no, don't com- plain, be-the-peacemaker, respect- able, responsible (for yourself + everyone else, esp "family"), reliable, relentlessly chippy, chirpy, shiny, SILENT, HUMBLE Go-getter, .... That One did very often & softly whisper, "I Am here if you ever need Me.". But, of course, I never did. Until I did. I was 41. I, too, am still here. Because I understood that day (& every day since). And I asked. Every day thereafter has been exactly like that day. Some even worse! But I ask. And I seek. And sometimes , it feels like I have broken both feet KICKING the door. But I tell you truly: I would not be here otherwise. 💜

Same… I lost mine in 2016 and it feels more painful each year.

I just wept for my grandmother.... died decades ago!!!! 😢❤