Originally posted September 15, 2021

It’s mid-September but my nearly-5 year old has started talking about Halloween already. My heart sank. My grief season has started.

For me, Halloween is a grief trigger, closely tied to my father’s accident and death. As Theo has gotten older, he’s gotten increasingly excited about Halloween decorations and celebration - hence talking about it earlier and earlier. But this means I have an unpredictable amount of sadness under the surface during these conversations.

I’ve been talking to people about how to think about making space for, and navigating, triggers in advance of this season.

One idea was to make space for daily grieving: journaling, or making remembrance part of Theo’s bedtime ritual.

At work, I’ve made different decisions at different times. I’m still working on practicing checking in with how my body is physically reacting to triggers, without judging those reactions.

I’ve chosen to walk out of potentially triggering meetings or conferences when they were happening in person. I’ve gone to private spaces to cry, but depending on the intensity of the feelings, it can be hard to recover enough to return to professional activities in a day.

I’ve chosen to join a journal club with a potentially triggering topic, and acknowledge to attendees that I was navigating this possibility in order to normalize to others (especially trainees) that this is normal (especially in our fields of geriatrics and palliative care).

In the era of remote work, I’ve muted meetings or turned off videos. I’m trying to tell myself it would be ok to walk to the other side of my desk and cry on my bed, but I haven’t yet done this. More often I distract myself (less than ideal), or go for a walk (better).

I’ve created WhatsApp groups of friends who know about grief to be able to message and put words to what I’m feeling. They are good at not fixing, just being present with me in those reactions.

And, as you can tell, I write about it.

What do you do?