On May 31 of last year, someone very close to me passed away from brain cancer. I’ve experienced death before, but never in a way as immediately life changing or devastating as this has been. In the months since he’s been gone, everything I thought I knew about grief has been proven wrong. It’s not linear, logic doesn’t make it stop, and it has brought on emotions I didn’t expect to feel—namely fear. Grief has been a rocky journey, one that’s hard to put into words at times.
One thing I can explain about the fear, though, is how afraid I was to come back to university. The thought of leaving my family behind after the hardest summer of my life, while also knowing that I was still actively grieving daily, was nightmarish to say the least. Grieving when you have nothing to do is hard; grieving when it feels like your future is on the line is almost unbearable.
I have survived, though. If you’ve read this far, that means you have as well or are trying to. Both are commendable achievements! From here I want to preface that I can’t provide you with magic solutions. I can only tell you what I’ve done to make the transition from grieving back into academics as sustainable as possible. Here we go:
Start conversations with your professors
One of the things that kept me from falling to the wayside in my 4th year history seminars this semester was maintaining an open dialogue with my professors about where I am mentally. Looming participation marks while not being able to get out of bed can be nauseating—I get it—but it’s worth remembering that your professors are human beings with compassion. In every case of not being able to meet the mark for going to class, I was met with understanding. They can’t help you if you don’t reach out, though.
Use the services available to you
Dalhousie offers a wide range of mental health services to students, including same-day counseling, peer support group services, and connections to religious/spiritual supports. It’s worth checking out the website for more information if you think these could benefit you. Personally, I connected with Rev'd Dr. Ranall Ingalls when I had questions about grief and death that were weighing heavily on me. Honestly, those conversations were integral to my integration back into university life. I cannot thank him enough.
Evaluate your support systems
Grief has been a monumental test on my relationships and my understanding of them. I’ve always been someone who is hesitant to lean too much on others, but in this case I had no choice. True family and friends are there when times get tough and will show up with that mentality. I’ve relied on my support systems for help, distractions, and grace. Grief changes you. Since he died, I’ve become someone who is slow to text back and quick to cry at Christmas lights, carved pumpkins, and the dark. You need to surround yourself with people who will—to the best of their abilities—accept those changes.
Slack off where you can
Making concessions for myself is one of the only reasons I didn’t give up halfway through this semester. Before this, I was someone who lived and breathed for my academic career. I wouldn’t have been able to fathom a grade of 70. This year, however, I’ve come to accept an occasional dip in my grades as par for the course. Sometimes exerting less effort in my classes to be able to conserve for the day-to-day things is worth it. Be smart about it but let yourself show up with less perfection if it means being able to show up at all.
Find a balance
I don’t advocate for ignoring grief, but I do advocate for putting it on do-not-disturb for a while. Going out with friends, fostering relationships, and keeping up with your hobbies are integral to staying afloat while grieving, especially when at university. Sometimes I feel guilty that I’m still able to do all these things. However, depriving yourself of joy won’t bring them back. Nor does living a full life invalidate how great a loss it was. If anything, I’ve found comfort in seeking out beauty where I can because it’s in that beauty where I see him the most.
Document your journey
Robert Frost said it best: “the only way out is through.” He didn’t say how hard the through part is, though, nor that it might never end. Nevertheless, my grief journal has been a light in the darkness during this part. It has allowed me to express emotions I don’t feel comfortable expressing to others in a tangible way. Filling pages feels like progress. In a very unstable period of transition, being able to write down my thoughts has created a touchpoint to look back on and a way to sift through the noise of grief while juggling school.
Give yourself grace—a lot of it
Sometimes I’m afraid that my grief has made me a bad person. I don’t care about as many things as I once did, be it personally or globally. I’m more apathetic, angry, and sad than I have ever been and it translates into me nurturing myself over others in order to survive. There are a lot of issues in the world right now that rightfully demand our attention. However, it isn’t selfish to not be able to show up for everything and everyone. Or to not even show up for anything until you find peace. You can’t save those drowning while underwater yourself. Accept where you are with the understanding that, no, you’re not a bad person. You’re human.
Remember: Each person is different, so our grief journeys are also different. I encourage you to make choices based on this understanding. Not everything I’ve done will work for others, but I hope something works.