Ambiguous Loss

In this episode of Holding Space On the Mountain, we journey again into the world of ambiguous loss—a form of grief that arises when closure is impossible, relationships are changed, or loved ones are physically or emotionally absent. Through storytelling, psychoeducation, guided reflection, and practical coping strategies, we explore the emotional impact of ambiguous loss and how to hold space for ourselves and others in the midst of uncertainty. This episode offers validation, support, and tools for healing when loss is hardest to name.

Transcript

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Welcome to Holding Space on the Mountain. I'm your host, Amber Surstead. Think of this as a cozy cabin in the forest up on the mountain. A place to slow down, breathe deeply, and talk honestly about grief, growth, and mental health. Here we explore life's peaks and valleys, share stories, and find practical ways to keep moving forward, even when the path gets rough. So, pour yourself a warm drink, settle into a comfortable spot, and let's climb this mountain together. One conversation at a time. Today we're embarking on a deep journey into the world of ambiguous loss, a kind of grief that is often invisible, misunderstood, and profoundly challenging. We've talked about this in an earlier episode, but we're going to dig just a bit deeper. This episode is for anyone who has felt loss in uncertainty, who has mourned what cannot be named, and who needs space to honor that experience. Ambiguous loss is everywhere, yet we rarely ever speak about it. It's the pain of not knowing, the ache of absence without closure, the confusion when someone is here but they're not really here. It's the grief that lingers in the background, shaping lives and relationships in ways we don't always see. Today we'll explore what ambiguous loss is, how it affects us, and most importantly, how to hold space for ourselves and for others as we navigate its complexities. Dr. Pauline Boss first described ambiguous loss and identified two main forms. One was physical absence with psychological presence. So someone is missing but still alive. This might be a loved one who is missing, estranged, or separated by distance or circumstance. The second one is physical presence with psychological absence. Someone is present, but emotionally or cognitively unavailable, like a family member with dementia, severe mental illness or addiction. Both forms disrupt our sense of closure. The loss is real, but it's hard to name. It's hard to mourn and it's hard to move forward. Ambiguous loss often brings a tangled web of emotions. There's on one hand you have longing and hope. We hope for return, for change, for clarity, then there's anger and frustration. Why can't things be different? Why can't others understand? There's guilt. Am I allowed to grieve? Am I betraying someone by acknowledging the loss? Or what about confusion? How do I make sense of all of this? These emotions can feel overwhelming, especially when others don't recognize or validate our pain. Ambiguous loss is often disenfranchised, unseen, and unsupported. Let's pause for some real life story scenarios. Dementia. So imagine a spouse watching their parents slowly fade, memories slipping away, conversations growing shorter. The person is physically present, but the relationship has changed. My mom personally has dementia. And when she's stable and things are going good, she's doing good. And she's we're able to talk as if most things are normal. And if things are just a bit unstable, um things have a have have a wild way of shifting very quickly to where all of a sudden it's as if we were 35 years in the past and she's reacting as if it's today, or or if she's not sure if I'm me, or if I'm her mother who is deceased. Uh so it's just so grieving that it's it can be a very, very complicated, confusing type of ambiguous grief. Ambiguous loss. Another one is missing persons. A parent waits for news, every phone call, a possibility, every day a mix of hope and despair. What about a strangement? So a child no longer speaks to their parent. The absence is not death, but it's still a very big loss. Migration is another one. So someone leaves their homeland, their family, and culture behind. The loss is both physical and psychological. These stories show how ambiguous loss can shape lives, relationships, and identity. Clinically speaking, ambiguous loss may lead to several different things that we're going to talk about. Number one is chronic grief. Loss doesn't resolve. So grief persists. Anxiety and depression, the uncertainty is stressful, sometimes very, very overwhelming. Difficulty with decision making. Without closure, it can be very difficult to move forward. Family conflict, different members may cope in different ways, leading to misunderstanding and tension. Recognizing ambiguous loss is the first step in supporting those affected. Our brains crave closure. Ambiguous loss leaves us in limbo, unable to process and integrate the loss. So what's the result? Well, persistent rumination. So we replay scenarios, we search for answers, we hope for resolution. And there's emotional exhaustion. The uncertainty drains us physically and emotionally, and difficulty trusting. If loss is unclear, we may struggle to trust ourselves, to trust others, to trust the world. Understanding this can help us be a bit more gentler with ourselves. Holding space for ambiguous loss means listening without judgment. So allowing ourselves and others to name that loss even if it's unclear. Validating feelings. It's normal to feel angry and sad and confused or hopeful. And sometimes all of these in the same minute. Accepting ambiguity. Closure may never come. And that's okay. Doesn't make it easy. It's okay, and it's okay to recognize that. Practicing compassion. We are doing the best we can with what we have. Here are a couple tools for navigating ambiguous loss. Number one is mindfulness. Practice being present with the uncertainty. Just being present, being aware, being mindful of what's going on. Journaling. So write about your loss. Write about your hopes, your fears, your angers, your disappointments. Another one is rituals. So create new ways to honor that loss. Some people light a candle, some like to create art, others will hold a ceremony. Another one is therapy and support groups. Seek spaces where ambiguous loss is understood and validated and not judged and criticized. And honestly, probably most importantly, self-compassion. Remind yourself that grief is not a sign of weakness, it's a sign of love. I want to try a guided reflection. Wherever you're at, find a comfortable seat. Close your eyes if you wish. Think about that ambiguous loss in your life. Notice the emotions that come up for you. Ask yourself, what do I need right now? What would help me feel seen and supported? Imagine holding your loss gently, without judgment, breathing in compassion, and breathing out self-criticism. And you can return to this practice whenever you need. Just take a couple minutes out of your day. Just be mindful of what's going on. I invite you to share your story with a friend, coworker, family member. What ambiguous loss have you experienced? How did it shape your life and relationships? What support did you find or wish you had found? Your stories help others feel less alone. If you're struggling right now, I encourage you to reach out to a therapist that's trained in grief and trauma. Explore books like, for example, Ambiguous Loss by Pauline Boss. Find online support groups for families affected by dementia or mercy missing persons or estrangement, whatever your situation may be. And remember you are not alone. Ambiguous loss is like climbing a mountain without a clear path. There are moments of hope and despair and uncertainty. There's also strength, there's resilience and community. As we close, I invite you to hold space for ambiguity in your life. Let yourself feel, let yourself grieve, let yourself heal one step at a time. Thank you for joining me today and holding space on the mountain. If this episode resonated with you, please share it with someone who you might think will also need some time to sit and pause and reflect on some of the ambiguous loss in their life. I hope this episode has left you feeling a little less alone and a little more understood. Until next time, this is Holding Space on the Mountain, and I'm your host, Amber Surstead.