How to Mourn for Neurodivergent Minds

Yesterday, my rattie Rosie, The Brave Girl, passed after an unsuccessful fight for her life. She lived a long life filled with lots of treats, pets, free roam, and love. I already miss her so much. It hurts. A lot. It hurts so badly. But at least I’m not burdened with the feeling that “I don’t know how to do mourning” anymore. 

When I was younger, I absolutely didn’t know how to deal with death. I felt shame over the fact that I didn’t know how to do mourning right. What’s the right way to mourn, after all? People seem to do it all the time, yet I didn’t know how. And it made all the pain and sadness worse. 

When my grandparents died, I didn’t know how to process pain. I did it in a lot of unhealthy ways that didn’t help in the long run. It was too much, and I was too inexperienced. It was only when my beloved animal companions were leaving me that I learned how to cope with grief in healthy ways. 

I think my heart mousie Daisy was the one who finally taught me how to mourn. She was my closest person, my soulmate, and her death was hard. A friend had to stay with me for five days, sleeping on my couch, so that I didn’t completely fall apart. 

And I let myself feel everything. The strange relief that comes when a long illness comes to an end. The intense, overwhelming pain. The tears came and went. Sometimes I felt good, like we were just doing a sleepover, more often, there was a knot of pain inside my chest that hurt, hurt, hurt. I cried. I cried a lot. I called her name through my tears. I told my friend all of the fond memories. We laughed through the tears. 

After a week, the worst of the pain passed, and I was able to let her go. The memories will always be there, as well as the pain of missing my little friend, but it is no longer the acute bite of intense grief. 

We, neurodivergent people, feel everything strongly, and that means grief as well. But we may be confused by its contradictory nature, by the conflicting emotions, by the process of mourning that no one explains to us, that seems to come naturally to everyone but us. We want to “do it right,” yet we don’t know how. 

So I wrote everything that my beloved animal companions have taught me. I hope it can help you in difficult times as well. Please, remember that you are not alone. Hang on tight. You can make it through. 

Anticipatory grief is a real thing

Sometimes waiting in fear when someone will die is even harder than the grief that comes after. You might be angry with yourself for feeling this way instead of savoring every minute that is left. Don’t. Try to be present, but acknowledge that waiting helplessly for death is hard. It’s natural to feel this way. Give yourself grace. Take good care of yourself, drop every responsibility that can wait, order food, keep yourself fed, sleep whenever you can. Read a good book if you are able. Reach out to friends and family for help. Don’t feel guilty for taking care of yourself. If you don’t do it, you won’t be able to take care of anyone else. I was so exhausted when I was taking care of Daisy in her last days that when a friend came, I handed her over and immediately fell asleep. When I didn’t sleep, I was reading a favorite book. I stopped cooking at all and was ordering all my lunches so that I had something warm to eat. I spent a lot of time at my friend’s place with Daisy in my hand, sometimes talking, sometimes sleeping. I remember thinking that I was never so exhausted in my life. And yes, in a way, it was worse than the grief that came after my little friend’s passing. Luckily, I had read about anticipatory grief some time ago, so I wasn’t surprised by it and didn’t blame myself for not enjoying every moment. I enjoyed enough of them, and I did the best I could. I found peace in the fact that I was taking the absolute best care of her that I could. 

You may feel relief at first

Especially after a long illness when you had to take care of someone you love, your first emotion after their passing will be relief. Don’t worry, nothing is wrong with you. It is a natural reaction to all that time spent in stress, in anticipation of the grief, feeling intense feelings, nerves coiled tight, and suddenly that tightness is released. It has finally ended. Let yourself feel the relief. The grief will come later, and you can work through it when it comes. When Daisy died, I woke up the next morning, and all that I felt was relief that I could use both of my hands now. In her last days, I carried her in my left hand and never put her down. I was surprised by this emotion, but I tried not to feel guilty over it. And the grief hit me hard later that day. 

You may feel the need to laugh even when sad

Laughter is a natural pressure safety valve. When you feel a lot, it sometimes bubbles up to the surface. It helps to think of it as a natural, involuntary reaction. You can’t help it. You may be scared that the people around you will react to it badly, or you may feel guilty over it. After all, when you are mourning, laughter seems inappropriate. But that isn’t exactly true. A lot of people describe the impulse to laugh at funerals, for example. When we were on the train with my sister on our way to put our beloved dog to sleep, we joked all the time on the way there. It didn’t mean we weren’t taking it seriously, on the contrary, it meant the opposite. We were feeling so much pain and sadness that our brain had switched it off for a while as a self-protective mechanism. It was a welcome reprieve. We knew that the pain would come later. When I was waiting to see if Rosie would make it, a laugh sometimes escaped me among the tears. It doesn’t diminish everything I have felt waiting, or after she passed. It didn’t diminish my love for her. 

Grief comes in waves 

As you are mourning, you will notice waves of intense pain and waves of relative peace. It’s another natural reaction to our nervous system being overloaded by feelings. Try to rest a bit during the peaceful time. Most of all, don’t blame yourself if you are feeling good at the moment! Think of it as recharging your batteries before another wave of pain hits you. It’s a natural survival mechanism that protects you from burning out by feeling intense pain all the time, a small mercy by Mother Nature. 

The worst passes after a week

My therapist told me that the worst of the pain lasts roughly a week, and it was my experience as well. It helped that I was not looking at a longer timeframe. You can make it through one week, and then it becomes better. Try to make that week as easy on yourself as you can. Give yourself space to mourn, but also stay connected to life. Surround yourself with people. It helps immensely not to be alone. Don’t succumb to the impulse to isolate yourself. I did it after my dog died, and it was the absolute worst decision I could make for my mental health. Spend time in nature. After Daisie’s passing, I spent a lot of time walking in the green of the forest. It was soothing and comforting. 

You don’t need to do anything special

When the grief comes, let it come. When you feel good, take it as a welcome relief. If your feelings suppress themselves, it’s their way of protecting you from the overload of emotion. Either way, it’s okay. There is no wrong way to do this. Trust the process, find help where you can, and forgive yourself for anything and everything. Or, even better, know that there is no need to forgive. 

Seriously, forgive yourself

Even if you feel you have done something wrong, made a mistake, or even if there is something you regret, your loved one wouldn’t want you to feel guilty. This is hardest for me. Rosie was taking corticosteroids for an itchy tail that suppressed her immune system, and I was supposed to give her betaglukan for immunity, but she didn’t want to eat it, and I fell out of the habit of trying to give it to her. I can’t shake the thought that if I tried harder, if I forced her to eat it, she might still be with me. But maybe not. Maybe the illness was stronger, and it would come anyway. Maybe her little body was so wracked with the corticosteroids that it would have ended this way anyway. The point is, I can never know. And I know she wouldn’t want me to agonize over this. So I try to let it go. Learn from it, sure, but let it go anyway. I believe she would tell me that there isn’t anything to forgive. I can honor her by believing it. 

Honor your loved ones your way

Make a tribute to those who have left you in a way that makes sense to you. For me, what helped me immensely by the end of the first week was writing about Daisy. On impulse, I started writing a text that expressed my grief and celebrated her life, and in the process, I felt my grief slipping and peace making its way in. Later, I made a photobook with all my favorite photos of her. I have some of the photos on the wall, and I look at them every day. I also made some paw prints when she was still alive, and my friend has made them into a wall display and a necklace in the shape of a heart. When Rosie died, the same friend snipped off a bit of her fur to make me a heart-shaped necklace. Some people like to make a video with a photo collage and music. It helps to use your creativity in some way. Creativity always eases the pain. Even writing this blog post helps me immensely right now.

If you are missing someone right now so badly that it hurts, please know you are not alone.

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