Delayed Grief

“I’d like to go into the woods and give an offering”, I told my friend who, a few years ago, had held a retreat that unravelled my life post-miscarriage. I had landed back in the UK, and it was clear that my heroine’s journey was ending. I wanted to give something back to the place and space that had held my tears, rewilded my soul, and planted a few seeds all those years ago. I had picked wildflowers from her garden, and we headed into her woodlands, where she had led a small ceremony. When we got home, my phone rang, my ex’s name popped up, and I stood there in shock. What timing. We chatted, tears flowed, and I accepted his apologies for not following me into the underworld or standing at the threshold. I asked him to call me again a few days later to chat, and eventually, we agreed to meet.

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“Do you think you grieved our relationship?” he asked me as we sat in the same woodlands where I’d buried my pregnancy test. The question took me aback. I’d never really thought about it. I’d heard and read a lot about anticipatory grief, but if I hadn’t grieved the relationship, was there some delayed grief about to head my way by this reconnection? It had been three years since we hadn’t seen each other. The last time was when I removed the boxes from the flat, we shared in Kensal Rise, London. We’d stopped speaking entirely and had sent each other a message or two in the last year, saying things we’d left unsaid, and now we were meeting. “Well, I’d lost so much at the same time: my career, my drive, my purpose, my life, as a result of the miscarriage. I think it all got mixed up into one big grief.”

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As we stood in the woods, I read a letter I’d written to my unborn child earlier that day. Something that many healers had suggested I do is to let go. For a long time, the idea of that felt heavy, brutal, and quite frankly impossible for my soul. But I was coming out of the underworld and back into ordinary life. It was time to close that cycle. So, I picked up a pen and put prose to my grief, tears, and journey. I talked about how grateful I was for all the gifts this little soul gave me and how I’d felt throughout the last three years. It wasn’t time, but if there was a time in the future, I would happily welcome that little soul back into the world if they were ready. I signed it off as "Love, Mum x".

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We both stood there hugging, crying, and holding hands. It was raw, tender, and nourishing all at the same time. This journey had finally come to an end. We sat down for a picnic and discussed all my adventures in Colombia and the spiritual path that grief had thrown me onto. How much I’d changed, how much my life had changed and, consequently, how much my business was changing. Throughout the day, I felt these pangs in my heart for the most abundant and beautiful life I had created from the ashes of my last life. My life was rich with good souls, an earthy community, a stunning landscape of rolling hills and natural pools to bathe in. It wasn’t the life I envisioned for myself, but it was the life my soul needed to put itself back together again.

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The following day, I crawled under my duvet and cried. I hadn’t cried like that in a long time, and more came gushing out when the tears were drying up. I cried for what could have been. I cried for the life I once had. I cried for the love that had been lost. I cried for the loss that we’d lived. The day before had stirred so much in me. I’d anticipated the emotions but hadn’t precisely anticipated the grief. It was like no time had passed when we met, yet so much had. Our lives are seemingly the same and yet different. He’d met me at as the bold and strong powerhouse that I was. Grief had stripped me back. Removed the layers and left me a little wilder, more feminine, and softer.

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We talked about the issues I had been having with my lung pain since I landed back. A week after I landed, I caught a horrible cough, which hasn’t let me go. The doctors couldn’t figure out what it was. Still, after numerous tests two months later, yesterday, I got a formal diagnosis at the hospital of whooping cough that has inflamed my lungs and caused minor damage. When I was desperately trying to figure out what was wrong and had been researching lungs, I often came across lung issues linked to grief, sadness, and fear. It felt quite apt for the landing back in the UK. The end of the heroine’s journey. The grief of what I'm letting go. But with endings come new beginnings, and the space to birth new things.

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With love and magic,

#AuthenticAlex

I have evolved a lot in the past few years and so have my words, my work and my wisdom. That's why it feels time to birth a new brand and I can't wait to show you! If you've been following me a while, you know that my love for the healing journey and getting to the core of who I am is my purpose. Not only for me personally but also in guiding people on the same journey. That's why I'm super excited to launch new offerings supporting people in that way.

This work is deep. I hold space for you to bring whatever is present for you. Guiding you with practical wisdom, spiritual tools and myths that alchemise transformation for you to meet yourself. If this sounds like you, I have three spots opening up to start in October to work with me on a 1:1 basis. I'm offering a free 20 mins call to see if we might be the right fit to work together.

I'm also opening up space to do some akashic record readings. For those unfamiliar with what it is, I'd recommend having a look at?this article ?for an in detail explanation. In a nutshell, people that are trained can open up the library of your soul and look into the past, present and future to gain insight, awareness and guidance.

If you're curious and feel called, you can?email me directly here: [email protected] .