Lately, I have been asked to appear on several podcasts, or take part as a speaker or be interviewed for “Grief Summits” and “Grief Conferences” and other such events which have intimidating and very serious sounding titles. The reason I’ve been asked to do these events quite often recently, is because the TEDx talk that I did in June of 2017 recently celebrated 5 years, and also went viral with over 2 million views and counting. (If you havent seen it, its about the concept of “moving on” after the death of someone you love, and why that is a horrible message to be sending to people. If you search in Google ‘Kelley Lynn, Ted talk’ it comes right up.) So, many people in the grief community are seeing my talk, and then contacting me to be a part of whatever they are doing in the grief world. Its a wonderful thing, because it means that I get to help others, which in turn gives my life meaning and purpose and fills me with joy.
It is also very surreal.
The most recent conference I was a part of; “Surviving Trauma and Grief and Awakening the Soul”, the woman who introduced me called me “an author, comedian, TED talk speaker, and grief expert.” Usually they ask for a bio to use so they can introduce you, and in the one I provided, I certainly never called myself a grief “expert.” I wasnt so much offended by this title, so much as confused I guess. I also found it humorous. What makes one a grief “expert?” Losing your spouse or partner to death? Grieving and processing that in a way that is deemed healthy and acceptable by society standards? People who have written books on grief? Something else? None of that? Who the hell knows, really. There are days when I feel like grief is a full-time job and a total energy and time-suck, but I wouldnt refer to myself as an expert , and honestly, the thought of ANYONE being called an “expert” on grief is sort of laughable to me. You could have 4 years of schooling and research and testing on all things grief, and still, when it happens to you in your own life, you havent got the faintest idea what to do or how to go on. The amount of times I found myself sitting on my apartment floor hyperventilating from grief emotions, or having to pull over my car from another panic attack in the months and years after he died – the amount of times in those early days that I thought “I no longer want to be here” but didnt have the strength or desire to “do” anything about it – the amount of times I honestly had no idea how I would make it through the next hour or minute or second – the amount of times for all these things and more is too great to count.
And even now, almost 11 years later, grief can still send me into a frenzy of tears, or come out of nowhere and attack me when I least expect it. Nobody is a grief expert, except grief. I think the goal is to manage and work WITH your grief, and try to see it as a part of your life, instead of the enemy. Its not going anywhere, and once you start to see the grief shift into a less harsh place in your world, then you become less terrified and less intimidated by it. And once that happens, many things become possible.
But being a grief “expert?” Not a title I feel I deserve, nor one that I really even want, actually.
When it comes to grief, maybe we could say that Im an “active participant” in the grieving process.
Yeah. Let’s go with that.
