Afraid to Talk About Death or Grief? Why Saying Your Fears Out Loud Doesn't Make Them Happen

“I’ve been afraid to talk about this.”

I’ve heard clients and friends say some version of this many times.

“I’ve been afraid to talk about it.”

“I want to let people in, but I’m afraid it will make it more real.”

“I know I need to face this, but I don’t know if I can.”

“I’m scared that if I say it out loud, somehow I’m inviting it in.”

There can be something incredibly powerful about the things we are afraid to say.

Sometimes we avoid talking about what we're afraid of because the fear already feels so big.

And sometimes, there is a different kind of fear underneath it:

What if saying it out loud makes it happen?

What if talking about death makes death feel closer?

What if saying, “I’m afraid I’m going to lose them,” somehow speaks that loss into existence?

What if admitting how scared we are makes the thing we are trying so hard not to think about more real?

I understand why someone might feel that way.

When something is uncertain and frightening, it can feel safer to keep it tucked away.

But talking about a fear doesn't create the thing you're afraid of.

It doesn't make a diagnosis happen.

It doesn't make someone die.

It doesn't cause a loss.

It doesn't invite something terrible through the door.

It gives the fear somewhere to go.

You don't have to face everything all at once.

I also don't believe that “facing your grief” means sitting down and staring directly at it until you feel everything.

That's not always helpful.

Sometimes you need to talk about it.

Sometimes you need to take a break from it.

Sometimes you need to cry.

Sometimes you need to laugh.

Sometimes you need to talk about something completely ordinary because, for an hour, you just need to be a person.

There are school pickups.

There are groceries to buy.

There are dinners to make.

There are work meetings and performance reviews.

There are bills and mortgages.

There are birthdays and weddings and kindergarten graduations.

There are dogs who need to go to the vet.

There are other people who need you.

Life keeps happening, even when something enormous is happening inside you.

So I personally don't think grief needs to be an all-day job.

And I don't think you need to spend every waking moment confronting it in order to be moving through it. That is unsustainable.

Sometimes we need somewhere safe to put the hard things.

This is one of the things I hope to offer my clients.

A place where they can say the thing they've been afraid to say.

Without judgment.

Without needing to make it sound better than it is.

Without having to reassure me.

Without worrying about how I'm going to react.

You can tell me that you're terrified.

You can tell me that you're angry.

You can tell me that you're not ready.

You can tell me that you're relieved.

You can tell me that you don't want to talk about it today.

You can tell me that you are afraid to talk about it because talking about it makes it feel too real.

We don't have to force anything.

We can sit with it.

We can talk around it.

We can take a breath.

We can laugh.

We can cry.

We can change the subject.

And we can come back to it when you're ready.

Because sometimes having someone beside you doesn't make the difficult thing disappear.

It just means you don't have to hold it completely and entirely by yourself.

And maybe that's what talking about our fears can offer us.

Not a way to control what happens.

Not a way to make the future less uncertain.

But a place to put some of the weight we're carrying.

A place where the fear can exist without taking up every inch of the room.

And sometimes, that's enough for today.