“Feel the loss instead of filling it.”

For flight crews, the duty day doesn’t end when the last passenger deplanes. For instance, United adds 15-30 minutes to the in-flight schedule for the captain’s debriefing. During this time, the captain gives an assessment to the crew and discusses the flight. Most of the time, the captain’s debrief is brief, and we all jet.

Hey, look, most flight crews commute, and they have planes to catch to get home, too.

Usually, there’s nothing to report anyway. Flight attendants discuss the flight with the captain during the final potty break. They have confirmed that the wheelchairs will meet the flight upon landing. If there’s a layover, they’ve all made dinner plans.

However, if there is an in-flight emergency, the captain will use the allotted time to discuss the incident and ask if everyone is safe.

The crew answers questions like:

• What happened?
• What could we have done better?
• What did we do right?
• Did we communicate with each other properly?
• What can we do better?

Then the captain will say,

“Make sure you get your reports in within 24 hours. We’re deplaning by the jet bridge, and it doesn’t get any better than that in the airline business. This flight is closed, and it’s behind us now. Release from duty.”

Recently, it was as if I were the captain of my own flight when I needed a debriefing. I found myself crying for seemingly no reason and eating my weight in ice cream. I couldn’t understand what was wrong. I watched Hallmark movies, for godsakes, so I had to be happy. Then it hit me. My editor killed two—actually, three—articles, and a giant gaping hole in my soul took their place.

That’s right. I was experiencing the aftermath of loss. It was as if everything in my life came to a screeching halt – along with my identity intertwined in telling other people’s stories. I thought I was soldiering on, but I was distraught.

For some reason, this time, before someone lost an eye due to my expanding waistline and the metal button popping off my jeans to become a projectile, grief made itself known.

I didn’t hide.

I welcomed its presence.

I would use this as an opportunity to debrief myself.

“Feel, not fill the loss.“

Loss, big or small, leaves an emptiness that some of us work overtime to fill when we should feel our way around it.

Instead, we reach for whatever is available to fill the void: a vat of chocolate ice cream, nicotine, opiates, alcohol, sex, you name it.

Seriously, who wants to relive their worst moments to get to the answers that could save them from compounding moments of a lifetime of loss until they’re unrecognizable to themselves?

No one. We’d rather hide from ourselves.

But we’d be better humans if we did get answers.

What if we honored grief with the same focus we’d have for rubbernecking a sinkhole that sucked down a 3200-square-foot house.

Get up close and give grief the attention it deserves. If we let too much time pass, we tend to confabulate, which serves no one.

So, when I experienced loss, I went into it like a post-flight debriefing.

“What happened?” Grief asked, hoping to force me to face what I’d truly lost.

I mentally scanned the sequence of events that led to the loss. Unfortunately, I also experienced a host of emotions that I didn’t want to feel. But in doing so, I could see how I got to the point of despair. I wanted to point fingers to distance myself from the pain, but I realized it would’ve only pushed me further away from the answer Grief wanted me to learn.

Hint: It wasn’t the loss of a paying gig.

Instead, I was mourning the loss of my “easy button.”

Unlike most news reporters, journalism came for me. I didn’t go looking for the job. OK, I prayed for the gig, but in the end, it was a calling that led me to the field. And when you don’t have to work for something, it is easy to walk away.

And I did just that. I left journalism almost a decade ago. So, when another editorial director recently came knocking, I answered again. I had a story to tell, and the editor needed content. It was the proverbial match made in heaven—except this deal came with a little bit of hell to pay.

What could you have done differently? Grief asked.

I could’ve prepared to do the necessary work to remain in play.

It’s not enough to go through an open door; the challenge is to keep it open. When someone opens the door for you, it’s a gift to themselves. It’s up to you to determine if you want to be (a) present.

If the answer is yes, show up in every way, do the work to keep it open, and give the gift to yourself.

“What did you do right,”

I said, ‘Yes,’ and worked to find these three stories a new home. These stories, which I had invested so much time and effort into, were a part of me. By finding them a new home, I was able to find closure. But when the editor killed them, it precipitated loss.

So, the moral of this story is simple. #KnowThySelf

Emotions are a Divine superpower bestowed upon humans. We often see them as adversaries, but it’s time we realize their potential to work for us. Loss doesn’t have to be your teacher. You have the power of curiosity to seek out the unknown, even within yourself.