Pet Loss Grief: Functioning but Still Heartbroken
- 21 hours ago
- 4 min read
You Can't Fail at Grief
I lost my soul dog Lexi 118 days ago. Losing her has been the most painful thing I have ever experienced in my life. Over the past few months, I've reluctantly received a crash course in grief. One thing I've noticed is that people have metrics for how they perceive I'm "progressing" in my grief.
The metrics:
If I look happy and am laughing.
My physical appearance. (If I have dark circles under my eyes. If I'm wearing makeup. How I'm dressed).
If I'm leaving my house and doing social things.
If I'm able to do something they think I should do on their timeline. (For me, that's making the drive to visit my family without Lexi and sitting on my porch).
If I'm ready to get another dog.
If I'm not crying as much in front of them.
After I lost Lexi, I remember the first time someone asked me if I had done anything fun that week. She questioned me like there was going to be a pop quiz later, and I panicked, thinking, "What did I even do today?"
I couldn't remember.
I looked at her and said, "You know, I really don't know."
At this point, most of my energy was spent surviving. It took everything I had to get out of bed, eat, shower, and go to work.
After that conversation, I felt like a failure because I could tell she was measuring my perceived "grief progress" by my answer. Like, if I had done something fun, then maybe I was doing better.
But just making it through every day felt like progress to me. The added pressure of thinking I wasn't doing enough was stressful.
How Things Look Vs. How They Feel
During my grief journey, it's been really triggering when people comment on how I look physically or tell me I seem like I'm doing better. I feel invalidated. It's like they think that because I might look okay on the outside, then I’m "over" my grief.
The truth is: I’m brokenhearted. I miss Lexi every day.
About two months ago, I went to a concert with some friends. The musicians were entertaining, and I enjoyed it. However, I was thinking about Lexi because she was my best friend, and I feel her absence so deeply. Although I had fun at the concert, I also had a few sad moments, just missing her. On the drive home, I sobbed in my car because I knew Lexi wasn't going to be at our house to greet me when I got there.
From an outsider's perspective, I was doing great. I had gone to a concert. I was out with friends. I had worn makeup and clothes other than sweatpants.
But, inside, I was in pain.
Along with others' ideas of how I should be doing on my grief journey, I realized that I also measure my own grief. Sometimes I feel like I'm failing because I still cry so much. I think: Shouldn't I be farther along? Is something wrong with me? Am I "doing" grief wrong somehow?
But I've learned from both my counselor and Pet Loss Community that two things can be true at the same time, without negating each other. So, I can have fun with my friends while I also love and miss Lexi. Both of these things are equally true and don't take away from each other.
What I Wish Others Understood
I think I finally understand that you can't fail at grief. It's an experience you go through because your pet, whom you loved deeply and shared a special, pure bond with, is gone, and you are trying to learn how to navigate your life without them.
Grief is a very personal experience. It's not really "progress" that can be measured.
Some people cry a lot. Some people don't cry much at all. Some people get another pet right away. Some people wait years to get another pet. Some people never get another pet. Some people want to go out and be social. Some people would rather stay at home.
None of these people are "doing" grief wrong. That's impossible. Grief is different for everyone.
You aren't behind. You haven't failed. You are just where you need to be.
I personally have learned that I have to try different things and figure out what I need and what works for me. And I give myself grace because it's so very hard.
It’s also helped me to find others who truly understand the depth of my grief.
I went to my first Pet Loss Community group session four days after losing Lexi. I wasn’t able to
do much but cry in that first session.
Since then, I have been to 22 sessions, including 1:1 sessions. After every meeting, I feel seen. I
know I can cry there, and I don’t have to apologize. In fact, other people cry with me.
Everyone makes space for each other’s grief. Everyone listens. Everyone is a pet person who
truly loved and misses their pet. Everyone relates to what I’m going through.
It has made me feel less alone.
Please, Take Heart
I have cried each one of the 118 days since I lost Lexi. Sometimes it's just a few teardrops, and sometimes it's gasping sobs where I clutch her toy sloth and her blanket, missing her so much I physically ache. Does it mean I'm not "progressing" as much if I have a day where I sob a lot versus a day when I cry just a few teardrops?
No. Not at all.
Grief isn't linear. Sometimes waves of grief crash over you and knock you over, and sometimes you can stay standing as they swirl around your feet.
The idea that you should be progressing in your grief at a certain rate is a totally society-imposed concept.
Your pet was yours to love, and they are yours to grieve in whatever way you need to.
Disclaimer: I'm not a mental health professional. I have had a lot of therapy, so I may occasionally reference concepts I have learned in my sessions. If you have any mental health concerns or questions, please talk to your doctor.
Thank you so much for putting this all Into such beautiful words. It really Is a comfort not to have to to through this alone but with others who really get It. See you In group!
Meaghan, this is beautiful. So honest. So loving. Honored to be in groups with you and hear your heartfelt words. See you soon. There will be tears. There will be facial tissue for us. XXX