Finding Light in the Depths of Grief: My Journey of Routine, Microdosing and Healing

I had never truly experienced depression before my brother passed, the incredible loss took away my joy. I didn’t smile or laugh as easily, I stopped dancing spontaneously and I struggled to face each morning with a sense of purpose. I was numb and going through the motions. 

It was during this time that I leaned into my routine with unwavering consistency. I had to put my full trust into the things I teach, and what I believe about being well. Even though that felt far away and it would take some time before I would start to feel anything. 

“Slowly I found myself sitting in the beauty of grief. I began honoring what we shared, collecting memories to keep. And beginning the slow walk toward acceptance that what has been will never be again.”

While the pain of loss is deep and unrelenting, there's a newfound understanding that emerges – a realization that even through this pain, life's beauty remains, if we're willing to see it.

This isn’t a fast, happy turn around. But the shift from numb to moving forward was pivotal. 

In this time microdosing emerged as a source of light. I began to perceive the world in a slightly altered way. It wasn't about escaping reality, but rather about gaining a new perspective on it. Microdosing helped me appreciate the nuances of life, even within the depths of my grief. It allowed me to see the intricate beauty in everyday moments, and gradually, it helped me rediscover myself.

In addition to the basic ways I care for myself; movement, foods my body prefers, mobility work- these simple practices became my lifeline. Each morning I committed to getting up and facing the day. It wasn't about finding immediate joy; it was about trusting the process and believing that this routine that has always been my lifeline would bring me back to myself.

One of the most challenging aspects of grief is accepting the permanence of loss.

The person we loved and lost will forever remain frozen in time, while life continues to move forward. I confronted the painful reality that I wouldn't experience the milestones of life with him – the big events, the shared celebrations, the growth that comes with age. And yet, in this acceptance, there was a strange sort of solace. It became a driving force to honor his memory by embracing my life more fully.

Looking back on the hardest year and a half of my life, I can say that I emerged stronger than I ever thought possible. I have so much more understanding for depressive episodes, having experienced the depths of one myself. And through the interplay of routine, microdosing, and consistency, I found a way to break free.

When I say I value my routine, it’s not about perfection and it’s not because it guarantees happiness. It’s because it’s a sustainable way for me to find and maintain presence in my life. It’s the safe place I create for myself to bring whatever is happening in my world. And it’s literally the practice that brought me back from the darkest places I’ve ever been.