Grief and Jiu Jitsu by Meagan Cooper
First, if you searched for this, let me say that I am sorry for your pain. I lost my father March 31, 2019.I helped him palliate in my home. Early in my bereavement I searched this topic and didn’t find the information I was looking for, so I am offering you my experience with anxiety, limited capacity, ego, community,and goals. Grief changes you; you don’t have much choice. Don’t be destroyed;lean in and rise.
In bereavement I was anxious all the time. Nothing triggered it.It was a monster butterfly flapping in my stomach 24/7. Before my first night back on the mats, I asked a trusted friend for help. I had no idea what would happen-I didn’t know if I would make it through the hour, burst into tears, or pass out. I knew that whatever happened, he had my back. For the next few months,I asked for the support of my trusted people. I managed my anxiety by being very selective about my training partners and my rolling partners. I didn’t roll right away,either. I had to build the capacity for rolling.
The lack of capacity in bereavement was a shock. I had maybe half an hour of concentration and energy before I was unconscious. When I first came back to Jiu Jitsu, had about 30 mins of attention before the familiar, floaty sensation of disassociation set in. Each week, I’d gain about five mins before the feelings of disassociation returned. Because of the lack of capacity, I found that one class a week was enough. Once my capacity reached a full hour without feeling disassociation, I added another class. I managed my capacity by guarding my energy. Having patients with myself during this phase was frustrating.
Some days I was angry at the grief process. I wanted to be “who I was”. Today, I feel gratitude; I feel solidified. The way I approach Jiu Jitsu has also changed: I am softer-not as hard on myself. When I first came back, I told myself my game should be like it was. With the support of my coach, I saw all the should’s for what they were: ego. After seeing ego for what it was, it was easy to drop the story and start cheering for the small accomplishments. Even if I tapped a million times, replacing the should’s and focusing on the small accomplishments gave me something positive to hang on to. I managed my ego by cheer leading myself.
In all of the management strategies I’ve talked about, I’ve received the support of my community. When I first lost my Dad, I questioned everything and fell out of love with most things,including Jiu Jitsu. The only reason I kept going was the people. Few people at my dojo knew what I was going through, but no matter whether they knew or didn’t know,they held space for me. No matter whether they knew or didn’t know, I felt supported. The dojo was (and is) a place of acceptance and connection. Today, it is six months later, my love for the community continues to grow and my love for the game is retuning even though the skills aren’t where I’d like them to be yet.
Increasing specific skills has become my new goal. For so long my Dad and his health were my goals. When he died, I became untethered and disengaged. Most days I’m fighting apathy. A teammate and friend who recently complete in the World Masters casually mentioned he’s looking for his next goal. In that moment, I suddenly saw that goals are our anchors. They give us something to be interested in, cultivate attention to living, and provide something to grow into.
Grief forces you to grow. Grief burns away who you thought you were. You are forced to manage anxiety, limited capacity, and ego. Feel the support of your community and set goals to anchor yourself. You have no choice but to be changed by grief, so lean in and rise.
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