One of the ways that I decided to deal with the grief of losing my mom was to stay committed to the goals I shared with her. One of those goals was to bring Lemons 2 Lemonade back in person.
I created Lemons 2 Lemonade out of a need to find a community that I didn’t see. It’s always been a safe place for creative and entrepreneurial women (and men) who were trying to climb the corporate ladder to build a business despite the obstacles in our way. It was easy to turn back to the thing that felt safe and poured into me as much as it did to my community.
So, when grief felt unbearable, I took that energy and put it into planning three in-person events during the summer. I thought being around people and doing what I love would help, but I didn’t prepare for what it would feel like to network while grieving.
In June, I hosted my first mixer for my community, just two months after she passed. I was doing OK setting up and having my friend there for support. I didn’t expect anyone in the room to know or remember that I was bereaved, and as long as it wasn’t brought up, I should be fine, right?
Well, one of my speakers decided to share her condolences and more right before we started the panel, and I was no good after that. I was off my game as a moderator. I read the questions but kept looking at the seat next to my friend where my mom would have sat. All I wanted to do was hurry up and finish. I was angry that the panelist reminded me who wasn’t in that room. I was doing so well until it wasn’t, but was it her fault? Should I have expected it? I wrapped up the conversation and cried in front of my guests. Afterward, everyone came up to me to share their condolences. I never meant for that to happen, but it was just the beginning of how awkward it has been to navigate getting back out there socially with the heavy weight of grief.
The number one rule for networking is to show up as your best self, but whenever someone asked me how I was doing or what I was up to, I immediately experienced a range of emotions. My head would spin with questions that I didn’t ask out loud:
Do they know?
Should I tell them?
Is this person safe to share this information with?
Do I feel like reliving it?
Do they have the emotional capacity?
Is this an appropriate space for this?
Will their response annoy me if I share?
Should I act like nothing has happened?
I would feel the grief in my chest turn to panic because I needed to decide whether, to be honest or pretend that everything was terrific because, according to the Instagram grid, I was living my best life.
For six months, I showed up in rooms when I wasn’t at my best. I was breaking all the rules, but I needed a creative outlet to be around other people and keep going.
Networking while grieving is another layer the bereaved must navigate within their first year after a loss.
Most of you are probably thinking that it might have been too soon for me to be “outside” or open myself up to new people. You might be right, but in the same breath, I’m a connector at heart. What better way to find comfort than to be in alignment with your purpose? Connecting, hosting, creating community, and storytelling fill my cup. Being around people felt better than being alone in the darkness of grief. I was avoiding the dark.
Anytime I was trying to get to know someone (even in dating), my grief was a secret that was hard to keep. Sometimes, I uncomfortably tried to ignore it, but specific questions like whether my parents still lived there. If I visited often or what my plans for any particular holiday came my way, I would then make the reveal because my eyes would water to think she no longer lived there or that this would be the first holiday without her. I was spending a lot of time trying not to make the people around me uncomfortable, but in reality, we all need to get comfortable with grief because we all will experience it.
We all need to discern when it is appropriate to offer condolences or converse about grief in social settings. For me, networking events, dinners, or parties are my places to escape. I want a good time, and those spaces shouldn’t be the times that it is brought up unless I open the conversation. I have been learning to be vocal about my boundaries for this, but I’m still a work in progress.
There comes a point when bereaved people have to try again. They have to go back to work, socialize with people, and be in community with others. Each person does it when it feels suitable to them and at their own pace. What I have learned in my first year bereaved is that it is OK to feel how I feel, and it is OK to set boundaries if I don’t want to talk about my grief.
Here are my takeaways for anyone else who is struggling through networking while bereaved:
- Be gentle with yourself
- There’s no shame in being bereaved
- Stop worrying about how others will perceive how you manage your grief
- Set boundaries if you aren’t ready to have specific conversations
- Everyone won’t get it right, and that’s OK
If you’ve been in a similar situation, what were some ways that helped you manage?