Giving Myself Permission to Grieve
Content note: This blog post contains references to the death of a pet.
Four months have passed since I wrote a meaningful blog post—a tribute to my dog and beloved editorial assistant, Roxy. That means I’ve been grieving for four months (not to mention the anticipatory grief and the emotional toll of caring for her for the many months she was sick before that). And throughout this time, I’ve struggled with what this grief has meant for me as a human and as an editor running my own business.
Inspired by the Deliberate Freelancer podcast episode “I’m Grieving. How Can I Keep My Business Running?” and Maya Berger’s blog post “Out of Focus: Editing while Grieving,” I’m reflecting on how I’ve tried to give myself permission to grieve the loss of my companion while still working as an editor.
Withdrawal
These past months, I’ve been more withdrawn when it comes to being active and present in the editing community. I don’t expect anyone else to have noticed this, but I’ve definitely noticed a huge shift within myself. The week Roxy died, I tweeted twice. That was vastly different from my tweeting at least once or twice every day. I’ve since gone back to my usual tweeting habits to a degree, but less than I used to. I also don’t interact as much, both on social media and in private spaces. I do talk to other editors, especially in smaller group settings, but less than I used to. I still volunteer with professional editing organizations, but less than I used to.
And that’s okay.
Mental energy
These past months, I’ve had less mental energy to do things that I might have done in the past. I’m not creating the amount of content I was before. I’m not doing the number of presentations I used to. I’m not replying to people’s comments like I might’ve in the past, often only “liking” them instead of responding in a meaningful way. I’m not attending as many virtual social events. Roxy’s death and the subsequent grief have sapped a lot of my motivation.
And that’s okay.
Flexibility
These past months, I’ve asked for flexibility from clients when it comes to deadlines, and I’ve asked for flexibility from myself when it comes to my own schedule. I’m grateful that my clients are wonderful and understanding, but I’m less so with myself. I expect myself to work during “work hours,” even though I’m the one who sets what those hours are. My ability to focus on editing throughout a given day is less than it was before, so I sometimes need to take more breaks or end my day early, then make up hours if I need to.
And that’s okay.
Priorities
These past months, I’ve reassessed my priorities. There are things I was doing before that I didn’t have to, but I felt obligated to for one reason or another. Maybe something that was good for my business before isn’t needed anymore. Or maybe something I really enjoyed doing in the past now feels like a chore. I’ve been saying no to things or referring opportunities to others.
And that’s okay.
But … the emotions
I tell myself “That’s okay,” but it doesn’t feel that way a lot of the time. Instead, I struggle with a lot of difficult emotions, on top of the overwhelming sadness of losing her.
I feel guilty for withdrawing, for having less mental energy, for asking for flexibility, for evaluating my priorities and saying no to things.
I feel frustrated with myself that I’m not being as “productive” as I was before, whatever that means.
I feel worried that people will forget about me. That since I’m not putting myself out there as much, I’ll fade into oblivion.
I feel shame that I’m going through all of this when Roxy was “just a dog.” This one is especially silly, I know. People who understand what it’s like to lose a pet get it—but I worry about judgment from people who don’t. Even though that worry is ridiculous, it still exists.
Managing these many emotions has been a huge, complicated part of my grief. But I’ve also realized that I’m the one placing these burdens on myself. No one else is. As long as I’m doing what I want to for my business and I’m meeting clients’ expectations, that’s really all that matters. Engaging with the editing community, doing presentations, creating content, and growing my business are all important, but only because they’re things I’ve come to expect from myself.
Final thoughts
In the end, I am a human being before I am an editor. The grieving process has made me realize that I weigh myself down with expectations, and I think a lot of other editors and freelancers do the same. We feel the need to do, do, do rather than allowing ourselves to be.
I’m working on being more compassionate and forgiving of myself, as well as giving myself permission to not be the same as I was. Roxy’s death was a catastrophic loss, and it’s natural for that experience to change me. Whether that change is temporary or permanent, I don’t know. But I do know that no matter what happens over time, it will be okay.
