(Part 2) What Grief Feels Like to a Highly Sensitive Person

This is part II of a II part series. If you have not read part I, please read it here first: What Grief Feels Like to a Highly Sensitive Person

Many people who are highly sensitive need time alone to process the sensations they feel. In consideration of serving highly sensitive people in grief, the alone time is not only needed, it is crucial for working through the hurt and pain.

That may sound like all highly sensitive people need to be alone to process their grief. However, that’s not always true. Remembering that Highly Sensitive People easily get overwhelmed with the sounds, sights, and energies from other people, it’s important to make time to process grief alone. That sacred time and space helps to establish rituals for mourning, reconciliation, and healing.

In this article, I’m going to share three stories of Highly Sensitive People who did special things to establish rituals that helped them grieve the loss of their spouse, parent, and sibling. I’ve changed the names of the individuals mentioned in these stories to help protect their privacy but the things they did to create rituals, show up to their pain, and hold space for their grief is all shared here to help inspire you to create something meaningful and special for your own grief journey.

We’ll begin with Sharon. Sharon was married to her husband for 23 years before his death. Sharon is playful, kind, and carries a persona of laughing at life and doing everything she can to make the best of whatever life throws at her.

Sharon’s husband died of a heart attack. His death was a shock to her. She had no anticipation of losing him so soon. When he died, Sharon spent a lot of time sitting in the lawn chair in the backyard, sobbing and staring at the cracks in the patio concrete.

Sharon’s best friend, Kim, came over every day for the first three weeks. She would spend several hours at Sharon’s house each day, helping her bathe and eat. Kim didn’t say much to Sharon because Sharon wasn’t too responsive. But Kim cared for Sharon to ensure her basic needs were met.

Sharon started to show signs of coming around and Kim stopped making her food. Kim didn’t come over as often and Sharon was able to get out of the house and return to running her own errands.

That’s when Sharon reached out to me. She called after listening to a Podcast episode and said she would like to work with me. After learning she lived over 1000 miles away and what she needed most, I suggested we schedule a regular ‘walk and talk’ session.

Once a week, for a year, we laced up our tennis shoes and headed out our front doors together. She told me about what she saw on her path. I listened and asked for more details. When we started, she would tell me about the trash on the street, dead animal carcasses, and dried out lawns. At the conclusion of our work together, she was describing how tall some of the trees were, the sounds the birds above her were making, and the shapes of the clouds in the sky.

It was a beautiful transformation for her. She went from looking down and perceiving death and destruction to looking up and seeing possibility and growth. Sharon needed to physically move to process her grief. She needed that experience of a forward motion to get her brain working in a way that helped her healing; and to help the flood of emotions move through her.

Over 52 times we walked and talked. It became something Sharon anticipated and felt more comfortable doing. And in doing so, she felt more comfort in her grief. The pain lessened.

Sharon made space to be with her grief. Even though it would hit her hard at unexpected times, our walk and talks were invitations to set intentions and to move through the feelings.

Sharon is doing okay now. She still gets sad but she knows to make space for those feelings. I’m so proud of the commitment she made and how she took care of herself. Sometimes just saying yes to something for a while will help the feelings flow. Sharon was able to honor both her grief and her sensitivity with movement, especially with moving in a forward motion.

There’s also Gary. Gary is a Highly Sensitive Person who hasn’t embraced his gifts. He chose a career in the financial industry, made a lot of money, and became skilled at intimidating people with his wealth.

When Gary lost his daughter Lynn to suicide, he became full of rage. He reacted with immense anger in most of his conversations. He would also ride the bumper of cars in front of him on the road, yelling and screaming at the driver to “get the f*ck out of my way!”

My first conversation with Gary was quite challenging. He called me because his wife gave him an ultimatum: “Get help or we’re done!” When I asked him to tell me more about Lynn, he hung up on me. I called back because I thought we lost the connection but he didn’t pick up. I didn’t hear from Gary again until two months later.

When we reconnected, I knew that if we were to work together, it would have to be on neutral territory. I thought if we were to meet in a space more known and comfortable to him, he would try to control everything too much and he would mostly do so with anger.

Anger can be helpful at times to process grief. It is an emotion that, if authentic, helps people to feel something deeper when expressed. I was supportive of Gary expressing his anger but I helped to create space that was a different form of expression than what he normally did- like yell and rage on other people.

Gary and I started working together by meeting in a park. We would sit on a bench, both of us looking in the same direction, and he would unleash his fury. He would express frustration and disgust with his wife and his son, stating they weren’t respecting him anymore. He would complain about his colleagues, mostly criticizing their “jackass” mentality.

There came a point in our meetings when I asked him if he thought about other ways to express anger. I could see that the talking about his anger would get him through the rest of the day and maybe a few days later but it wasn’t the breakthrough he needed to get to the sadness that was deep within him.

On this particular day, we were at a park on the Pacific coast. Both of us were wearing T-shirts, shorts, and flip flops. I told him that sometimes when I feel a lot of anger, I go into the ocean, go underwater, and yell with all my might. I asked him if he wanted to try it.

He looked at me like I was crazy and told me it was the stupidest thing he’d ever heard. I didn’t say anything. I just looked at him with smiling eyes, sending the intention of how transformative it would be. He leaned forward, then backward, and finally said, “f*ck it.”

We both went in and took big breaths, went under water, and yelled. We bobbed up. I looked at him. He took another deep breath, went back under, and did it again. When he popped back up again, I saw some change in the look in his eyes. I said “one more.” He went back under, but only for a moment, and popped up again sobbing.

That was the breakthrough Gary needed.

He tried to stop his tears the moment he looked at me. But what he saw from me was that I was crying too. He realized he had permission to feel and express the deeper sadness inside him. Both of us stood there, halfway submerged in the ocean, and cried for nearly ten minutes.

From that moment, there was a big change in Gary. During our time together, we went to that same beach but instead of Gary voicing his anger, he expressed his sadness. We created a ritual of Gary writing Lynn’s name in the sand and watching the waves wash it away.

Gary didn’t say much when we did this. He didn’t need to. His eyes filled with tears and he expressed his sadness. That’s all he needed to do.

He told me that he would do the ritual almost every day but it was more powerful to him when I was there. He never said why but I knew it was because he felt supported, witnessed, and cared for. We all need that in life.

After a couple years of mourning, Gary asked his family to help manage a foundation in honor of Lynn. They created one to support families impacted by suicide loss. Gary kept working at his financial job but he found a lot of meaning and purpose in the work and mission of the foundation.

Gary misses his daughter tremendously. He always will. But now, he is more aware of the possibility of a deeper sadness when he recognizes how angry he feels. He accesses and expresses that sadness instead of the anger.

The last story I’d like to share is about Tara. Tara tragically lost her twin sister, Tessa, in a car accident. Both were in the car and both were critically wounded. Tara made a recovery. Tessa didn’t.

Tessa and Tara were more than sisters. They were Soul mates. They were inseparable as children, getting along nearly every moment spent together. Tessa had a stronger personality than Tara. Tara was a bit more timid and shy. Tessa was always sticking up for her ‘big’ sister (16 minutes apart) in times when Tara was bullied or picked on.

When Tessa died, Tara didn’t leave her house for 3 months. She was too depressed, lost, and hopeless. Fortunately, she had a caring family that lived close by. Her parents, aunties and uncles, and even cousins and a niece scheduled around the clock visits to care for her. Her physical needs were cared for to help keep her alive.

When I met Tara, what I noticed first was how sensitive to sound she was. At the time I said hello to her, a crow cawed outside her front living room window. She cringed and had a strong physical reaction. I took a mental note that one of the ways to empathize with her would be to whisper and speak ever so softly.

And I did. I would sit on the floor and whisper to her. She would just look at me with tears streaming down her face. I would make eye contact with her and I could see that she wasn’t just heart broken. Her Soul was cracked. It was devastating.

What became a practice for Tara was to breathe with ‘self-compassion’. What I mean by that was we would sit there and consciously breathe together, dedicating each breath to either ourselves or to Tessa. It was so sacred and special. It made the moment more monumental.

As Tara felt her way through grief, it became more manageable and her breathing evolved into a yoga-like practice. Tara developed a specific yoga routine that lasted about 45 minutes; every posture led by her breath. She did this every day and dedicated her practice to her beloved sister, Tessa.

It is now 3 years later and Tara is still practicing. Her tears are not as prominent but her intention and dedication has become pure devotion. Tara dedicates her daily practice to Tessa and she says it’s the best way for her to stay connected to her beloved sister.

There’s a special side note that I love and want to share about Tara’s story. In her daily yoga practice, she refrains from using music. If you were to listen to her move gracefully on her mat, you would only hear her feet and hands move, as well as the sound of her breath. It’s peaceful, harmonious, and created from pure love.

I hope these three stories help you understand not only the importance of rituals for highly sensitive people in grief, but also gives you ideas for some of the things you can do to establish your own rituals to honor your grief, sensitivity, and healing.

Perhaps you already have an important ritual that is helping you process grief. If so, it would be great to hear about it. Feel free to contact me to share more if you feel inspired.

If you don’t have a ritual but know you need one, I’d be more than happy to help you create it.

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Reid Peterson is the Creator of the Grief Refuge app. Grief Refuge is a daily companion to help support people on the grief journey. Download for free on iOS or Android to get daily support.