Pet Loss Grief: Functioning but Still Heartbroken

In this article:

You Can't Fail at Grief

How Things Look Vs. How They Feel

What I Wish Others Understood

Please, Take Heart

You Can't Fail at Grief

I lost my soul dog, Lexi, 118 days ago. Losing her has been the most painful experience of my life. Over these months, I've reluctantly received a crash course in grief. One thing I've noticed is that people often have metrics for how they perceive my "progress" in this journey.

The Metrics:

• If I look happy and laugh.

• My physical appearance, such as dark circles under my eyes or whether I'm wearing makeup.

• If I'm leaving my house and engaging in social activities.

• If I can do things they think I should do on their timeline, like visiting family without Lexi.

• If I'm ready to get another dog.

• If I'm not crying as much in front of them.

  
  

After losing Lexi, I remember the first time someone asked if I had done anything fun that week. She questioned me as if there would be a pop quiz later. 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 that moment, most of my energy was spent just 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. I could tell she was measuring my perceived "grief progress" by my answer. If I had done something fun, then maybe I was doing better.

But just making it through each day felt like progress to me. The added pressure of thinking I wasn't doing enough was overwhelming.

Get Pet Loss Grief Support

How Things Look Vs. How They Feel

During my grief journey, it has been triggering when people comment on my physical appearance or tell me I seem to be doing better. I feel invalidated. It's as if they think that because I might look okay on the outside, 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 friends. The musicians were entertaining, and I enjoyed myself. However, I was constantly thinking about Lexi because she was my best friend. I feel her absence deeply. Although I had fun at the concert, I also had moments of sadness, just missing her. On the drive home, I sobbed in my car, knowing Lexi wouldn't be there to greet me when I got home.

From an outsider's perspective, I was doing great. I had gone to a concert, spent time with friends, and wore makeup instead of 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?

I've learned that two things can be true at the same time without negating each other. I can have fun with my friends while also loving and missing Lexi. Both of these truths coexist and do not diminish one another.

What I Wish Others Understood

I think I finally understand that you can't fail at grief. It's an experience we go through because our pets, whom we loved deeply and shared a special bond with, are gone. We are learning how to navigate life without them.

Grief is a very personal experience. It's not something that can be measured in terms of "progress."

Some people cry a lot. Some people don’t cry much at all. Some get another pet right away, while others wait years or never get another pet. Some want to be social, while others prefer staying 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 have learned that I must try different things to figure out what I need and what works for me. I give myself grace because this journey is incredibly hard.

It has also helped me to find others who truly understand the depth of my grief.

I attended my first Pet Loss Community group session just four days after losing Lexi. I wasn’t able to do much but cry during that first session.

Since then, I have attended 22 sessions, including one-on-one meetings. After every meeting, I feel seen. I know I can cry there without needing to apologize. In fact, others 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.

This community has made me feel less alone.

Join PLC

Please, Take Heart

I have cried every 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 blanket, missing her so much that I physically ache. Does it mean I'm not "progressing" 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 us and knock us down, while other times we can stand as they swirl around our feet.

The idea that we should be progressing in our grief at a certain rate is a societal concept that doesn't hold true.

Your pet was yours to love, and they are yours to grieve in whatever way you need.

Disclaimer: I'm not a mental health professional. I have had a lot of support, so I may occasionally reference concepts I have learned in my sessions. If you have any concerns or questions, please talk to your doctor.