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Key points
- Major losses are often followed by a slew of secondary losses.
- Secondary losses can show up in many forms and catch us off guard.
- Acknowledging your losses in whatever form they take is key to healing.
Imagine you’re on a sailboat that gets caught in a relentless storm. Maybe you were warned that the weather was coming; maybe you were caught off guard. In either case, you’re up all night battling the waves, doing everything you can to keep from capsizing. You’re nauseous and tired and shivering. You worry not only that the boat will fall apart but that you will, too.
The next day, miraculously, the storm is over, and the sun is shining. It will be smooth sailing from here, right?
Not exactly. Your boat is left in shambles, and so are you. You’re no longer fearless. There are holes in your sail. You pulled three muscles. All you want to do is find some sturdy ground.
If the storm is how it feels to lose someone you love, the ripple effects are your secondary losses.
While the impact of the primary loss is something we can anticipate, even as it’s excruciating and devastating and feels unimaginable, the secondary losses often catch us off guard. They come in many forms, each making the hole of the initial loss expand even further.
Here’s what they might look like.
Our relationships change.
It’s a sad fact of grief that on top of losing our person, we often lose other relationships, too. Friends and family might think we’re grieving too long or not grieving long enough. They might be uncomfortable around our sadness and become more distant or resent us for not being able to spend time with them in the ways we used to. Friends who promise to be there fall off at exactly the time we need them most.
Relationships that were anchored by your person inevitably change, too. A double date isn’t the same when you’re single. Parents of your kids’ friends feel impossible to be around after your child dies. Nurses and other professionals who were part of your life because of your person are no longer in the picture.
We question our identity.
This was the most immediate and surprising spillover impact when I experienced my first major loss. I grew up as the youngest of three sisters. When my middle sister died at 30, I didn’t know how to integrate that I was now one of two. I’d defined myself largely in relation to my other two sisters for my whole life, and suddenly that definition didn’t hold.
Years later, when my daughter died, the identity crisis was even more pronounced. Who was I, if not the mother of three children? The mother of a child with a rare disease? The mother of a daughter? All these were core to who I was and who I still am. But how we see ourselves doesn’t always match how the world sees us.
Our livelihood might be at risk.
Maybe the person who died was financially supporting us. Maybe we’re suffering too intensely to perform at work like we used to. Either way, the added pressure compounds the stress and anxiety of grief.
Our dreams or expectations for the future are shattered.
There are losses we anticipate “in the natural order of things.” We expect our grandparents and parents to die before we do. But when those deaths happen outside of older age, they don’t only change the present; they also change the script for our future.
When the person you lose is “out of order,” it’s not just the script that changes; suddenly, you’re in a completely different play.
So what can we do?
- As with all kinds of grief, the more we can acknowledge and name our feelings, the less power they have over us.
- Find other people who “get it.” Compassionate friends, support groups, connections through social media, and/or a grief therapist can be the life jackets that keep you afloat.
- Be honest about what you’re going through. People who want to help may not realize the slew of secondary losses you’re dealing with.
- Give yourself grace. There’s no right or wrong way to grieve, no schedule you need to adhere to, and no stages you need to check off a list.
And if you’re supporting someone else in their loss, keep in mind that their grief will likely take many forms and look different day to day, sometimes even hour by hour. The most valuable thing you can do is to keep showing up and acknowledging your friend’s pain.
