What do you need in grief?
Deborah Kourgelis, LCSW, LCADC
I recently read a quote by Amy Poehler, which said “It’s never overreacting to ask for what you want and need.” I first thought of the hundreds of clients I have counseled in my practice as a grief therapist, especially women, who have felt judged by society as being “too emotional” when they express feelings, make requests, or stand up for themselves.
Human beings lack authority for so many reasons, including adverse childhood experiences (or what therapists refer to as ACEs), stress, mental/physical health issues, negative thought patterns, genetics, expectations, discrimination, etc. Regardless of the cause, work can be done in therapy sessions, as well as outside of the rooms, to improve quality of lives. Over the years, I have been honored to help guide these wonderful souls, by working together to explore many tools which empower them. As many therapists do, I reflected on how my work began with my own story; thirty-two years ago I learned my own lesson in assertiveness.
My husband and I had been married a couple of years, and although a cradle barely fit in our one-bedroom apartment, we were thrilled to be expecting our first child. As I was nearing the end of my pregnancy, which had gone very well, I recall a particular day when I returned from errands. As my two male neighbors stood by chatting in the frigid weather, I huffed and puffed carrying heavy packages up several flights of outdoor steps to our bright and sunny apartment. I shook my head wondering why no one offered to help me, a very undeniably pregnant woman, who was clearly struggling. I speculated about whether or not they would feel bad if I fell and something happened to the baby. I pushed forward up the staircases focusing on the gifts contained in the bags that I was excited to wrap for the holiday that week. In a few weeks, it would be the New Year, and my baby would soon be here!
Throughout my life, up to this point, I usually didn’t ask for what I needed, assuming people should just know.
A couple of weeks after I happily handed out those holiday gifts, I was at work one morning and noticed I had not felt my baby move in a while. After reaching out to my doctor, and driving to his office, a bad feeling came over me as I entered the freezing cold exam room. The sterile surroundings gave off an energy fraught with doom. While the ultrasound technician dug the frigid wand into my abdomen, her eyes squinted and stayed alert to the images of my baby. It was so eerily quiet in that office, as she gaped at the screen.
It became immediately obvious that there was a problem, as she bolted out saying she wanted to grab the doctor. As many of us know, sonographers are not allowed to give bad news to patients.
It turned out my obstetrician did not want to be the bearer of the dreadful news either, so he suggested I go down the street to the hospital for another ultrasound. Panic took over as some far-off voice urged me to call my husband. As I trembled, it was difficult to convince him to leave work at first, because he had so many questions I could not answer. He needed to know what was wrong, and so did I. As I walked to my car, I pondered, “Why hasn’t my baby moved all morning? What’s wrong? I had followed all the rules to have a healthy pregnancy: no drinking, eat well, take supplements. What is going on?”
I steered myself to the hospital, checked in, and eventually, after yet another test, a physician gave my husband and I the devastating news that our baby was no longer alive. “Fetal demise” was the term he used, as if we were not talking about a precious little baby boy who would have been giggling and crawling around in the near future.
Weakness overwhelmed my body, and others in the room became invisible. In my trance, I focused on all the stainless steel around me. That faucet looks really shiny. As I attempted to process this unbelievably shocking news, the hazy outline of the doctor, standing there staring at me with his arms folded across his chest, came into view. It was just another day at work for him. After the scan, he and his stoic assistant had moved further away from me on the table, closer to the exit door. I struggled to hear his muffled tone, “There are no open beds on the floor. I want you to go home for a few days, and I will call you when I find space to induce labor and deliver the baby.”
As the doctor spoke, I thought to myself, “Wait a minute, this is not a normal delivery; our baby has died.” It felt like an emergency to me. I have often heard other mothers speak about how they are normally very accepting of things in life, but when it comes to their children, “mama bear” comes out. They will advocate with full force for things they feel their children need and deserve. Even though I knew my baby was gone, I still felt in that moment I needed to advocate for his dignity. He deserved to be born and be laid to rest, not “wait a few days.” It was both the first and last thing I could do for him as his mom. Throughout history, women like myself have kept quiet, reluctant to speak our own truths for fear of being labeled a crazy person. Criticism to “lower our voice” or “calm down” to control ourselves have chipped away at our self-esteem for centuries. Interestingly, those requests were not only from men to women, but also from women to other women as the perception remains that it is not becoming for a female to appear angry or hysterical, when she is simply asserting herself. But it was more than that. It was outrage. All the other times in my life, where I stood by silent and angry, and did NOT ask for what I wanted, came to a culmination; this was too devastating to remain quiet.
I instinctively knew that now was the right time in my life to start asking for what I needed. I had found my voice and was able to be assertive. In the end, they “miraculously” found a way for me to stay there, and I realized that even in my own sorrow, I could pressure others to give me what I desperately needed.
For me, it was essential to take back some semblance of control, at a time when death activated an enormous lack of control. I could not alter the fact that I just lost my son, but I deserved to regain power over my life. It was all I could grasp onto as that tragedy unfolded. Now, over 30 years and countless clients later, I continue to learn to ask for what I need. Sometimes my education comes reading quotes from people like Amy Poehler, sometimes from my clients, and sometimes from colleagues. As I was relaying my story to a fellow therapist, she shared with me her mantra, “I love you, JUST ASK,” which she uses as a reminder to all of us that we need to ask people who love us for what we need from them in life.
I pondered this and thought about how if we are able to ask for what we need in ordinary times, we will be better prepared to advocate for ourselves when grieving. Today, I always remind myself to “JUST ASK” and have my own reflections on the acronym.
Just think about what you really want and need
Use your voice to ask for it
Strength will begin to be felt throughout your body
Trust that you are taking good care of yourself
Assertiveness empowers us
Stay with your authentic self
Kindness to yourself is a gift
We can show the world that we are not overreacting, but being assertive and self-confident, thus leading us to remain in control of our own well-being.
About the Author
Deborah Kourgelis, a "David Kessler Certified Grief Educator," has been a therapist for 25 years, who has seen life through the lens of grief, loss and trauma, since experiencing her own death of a child. Through her work in the community with crisis intervention, as well as in private practice as a Licensed Clinical Social Worker (LCSW), she creates a safe, compassionate, and non-judgmental environment where clients learn tools to cope with the pain which has brought them to sessions. Recently, she has started working on a book, along with another colleague, which will help people learn to ask for what they need during their time navigating loss. She has learned an important lesson over the years: while everyone's circumstances are different, many of the feelings - the emotions and the struggles - are the same. Licensed in NY, NJ, OH and FL, she guides people through these challenging parts of life.
