The Silence of Grief ( Elizabeth Barrett Browning)

 

Frederick Elwell’s work, The Wedding Dress (1911). 

The previous painting was created 10 years after the Victorian era officially ended. Yet in many ways, Victorian society did not simply disappear with the end of Queen Victoria's reign. After 40 years living under a monarch who was deeply associated with mourning, propriety, and traditions, many Victorian customs remained deeply rooted in British society long afterward.

 The Queen was an important and the most influential public figure of her time; royal life had long been observed the public and chronicled. Monarchs often became cultural compasses, influencing everything from fashion and etiquette to social behavior and, in Victoria’s case, mourning.  Her public mourning reinforced the idea of how a widow should dress, behave, and publicly express or contain her grief.. This is why many customs associated with the Victorian era survived beyond the period itself and eventually became traditions.

Read more about Victorian customs: Here

GRIEF

ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING 

 I tell you, hopeless grief is passionless; 

 That only men incredulous of despair, 

 Half-taught in anguish, through the midnight air 

 Beat upward to God’s throne in loud access 

 Of shrieking and reproach. Full desertness, 

 In souls as countries, lieth silent-bare 

 Under the blanching, vertical eye-glare 

 Of the absolute heavens. 

Deep-hearted man, express Grief for thy dead in silence like to death 

— Most like a monumental statue set 

 In everlasting watch and moveless woe 

 Till itself crumble to the dust beneath. 

 Touch it; the marble eyelids are not wet: 

 If it could weep, it could arise and go.

A young woman wearing a veil and black clothing mourning at a tombstone, with her dog attending on he by C. Hancock, 1836.

What does grief look like when it has nothing left to say?

Psychology has developed multiple models, and modern grief research generally does not consider grief a fixed sequence that everyone passes through. The American Psychological Association explicitly says there is no “normal” timeline and that people should not expect to pass through grief in progressive stages.

The famous 5 stages by Elisabeth Kübler-Ross

Denial — “This can't be happening.”

Anger — “Why is this happening?”

Bargaining — “If only…” / “Please, God, if you could just…”

Depression — confronting the reality and pain of the loss.

Acceptance — beginning to acknowledge and live with the reality.

They were developed by Swiss-American psychiatrist Elisabeth Kübler-Ross and published in her 1969 book On Death and Dying. Importantly, however, Kübler-Ross originally developed the model from interviews with terminally ill patients, describing their responses to their own impending death. It was subsequently applied much more broadly to bereavement and other losses.

And this is crucial: they were never meant to be a universal five-step recipe for grieving. The APA describes the model as nonlinear: stages can overlap, recur, or occur in a different order. 

When Dreams Become Memories of the Dead Part I

 

"I dream of you, to wake" is the third sonnet in Christina Rossetti's Monna Innominata, a group of sonnets about love, separation and longing ( one of my toxic hobbies ). Monna Innominata roughly means Unnamed Lady. This sonnet describes a person who dreams of a beloved; she experiences a lovely reunion with him in her sleep, only to wake to find him gone. Of course, this means that the dream is more beautiful than anything experienced in real life; waking up means realizing loneliness and the loss of this beloved person.  Another thing to think about is that, in this case, death could be sweeter than real life.  

Has that ever happened to you ? When I was still going to high school, from time to time, I used to dream about strangers, people who wanted to reach out, but even if I had never seen them before, it felt sad; it felt like I made a connection and then I would wake up and they were gone, never to be seen again. Now, some people in my life have crossed over to the other side, and yes, I have seen them, especially in the first couple of months. The dream was sweeter and waking up used to hurt, but somehow I had to believe they are with me. Even if I can't see them, I am sure I will post more about this. 

"I dream of you, to wake"

By Christina Rossetti

I dream of you, to wake: would that I might

Dream of you and not wake but slumber on;

Nor find with dreams the dear companion gone,

As, Summer ended, Summer birds take flight.

In happy dreams I hold you full in night.

I blush again who waking look so wan;

Brighter than sunniest day that ever shone,

In happy dreams your smile makes day of night.

Thus for in dreams I may comes to your side,

And love you without measure, without fear,

And know that you are mine, and I am yours.

Ah, brief delight! The morning comes so fast,

And waking brings the cold light of the day,

Where I must live without you, as before.

Edgar Allan Poe’s “A Dream Within a Dream,” published in 1849, is a meditation on the painful realization that nothing in life can truly be held onto—not time, not hope, memories, love, or even life itself. The poem begins with the speaker saying goodbye to someone and questioning whether his entire existence has been nothing more than a dream. This uncertainty becomes more powerful in the second stanza, where he stands on a shore trying desperately to hold grains of sand as they slip through his fingers and disappear into the sea. The sand can be read as a symbol of time.

I think Poe is showing what the realization of losing feels like. Seems the character is trying to hold on to time, maybe existence, memories, love, etc but it all is already slipping away with every hour and every day.

A Dream Within a Dream

by Edgar Allan Poe

Take this kiss upon the brow!

And, in parting from you now,

Thus much let me avow —

You are not wrong, who deem

That my days have been a dream;

Yet if hope has flown away

In a night, or in a day,

In a vision, or in none,

Is it therefore the less gone? 

All that we see or seem

Is but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roar

Of a surf-tormented shore,

And I hold within my hand

Grains of the golden sand —

How few! yet how they creep

Through my fingers to the deep,

While I weep — while I weep!

O God! Can I not grasp

Them with a tighter clasp?

O God! can I not save

One from the pitiless wave?

Is all that we see or seem

But a dream within a dream?

I Am! by John Clare: The Poem of Identity, Loneliness & Mental Illness

 

   I Am! - John Clare 

I am - yet what I am, none cares or knows; 

My friends forsake me like a memory lost: 

I am the self-consumer of my woes —  

They rise and vanish in oblivion's host, 

Like shadows in love frenzied stifled throes 

And yet I am, and live — like vapours tost 

Into the nothingness of scorn and noise, 

Into the living sea of waking dreams, 

Where there is neither sense of life or joys, 

But the vast shipwreck of my life's esteem; 

Even the dearest that I love best 

Are strange — nay, rather, stranger than the rest. 

I long for scenes where man hath never trod 

A place where woman never smiled or wept 

There to abide with my Creator God, 

And sleep as I in childhood sweetly slept, 

Untroubling and untroubled where I lie 

The grass below, above, the vaulted sky.

Click here to go to album page 1 and here to album page 2

In "I Am!", John Clare explores the profound loneliness of feeling invisible, misunderstood, and disconnected from both society and himself. The poem expresses the anguish of existing in a world where one's identity seems forgotten, while longing for peace beyond suffering. Drawing from his own experiences of mental illness, isolation, and personal loss, Clare reflects on the fragility of human identity and the emotional burden of alienation. Yet, amid its sorrow, the poem also reveals a quiet yearning for spiritual comfort and a return to the innocence and tranquility of childhood, making "I Am!" one of the most moving meditations on identity, solitude, and the universal search for belonging in English Romantic poetry.

John Clare (1793–1864) was an English Romantic poet often celebrated as the "Peasant Poet" for his vivid, deeply empathetic depictions of rural life, nature, and the changing English countryside. Born to poor agricultural laborers in Northamptonshire, Clare achieved sudden literary acclaim in 1820 with his debut collection. However, as public interest in pastoral poetry waned, he sank into severe poverty, financial distress, and psychological illness. Struggling to support his large family alongside his fading career and the physical destruction of his beloved childhood landscapes by parliamentary enclosure, Clare suffered a severe breakdown characterized by deep depression, anxiety, and vivid delusions at times, even believing he was Lord Byron or Shakespeare.

It was within the walls of the Northampton General Lunatic Asylum (later renamed St Andrew's Hospital) that Clare wrote his masterpiece, "I Am!". Composed around late 1844 or 1845—just a few years into his 23-year stay at the institution—the poem was born out of profound isolation and alienation from his family, friends, and the literary world. Despite his fractured state of mind, Clare retained periods of extraordinary creative clarity; he dictated or wrote out his poems, which were then transcribed and preserved by W. F. Knight, the asylum’s sympathetic house steward who encouraged his writing between 1845 and 1850. First published in the Bedford Times in 1848, the poem serves as Clare's definitive statement on human existence, capturing the tragic contradiction of being physically alive and self-aware while feeling entirely abandoned and forgotten by the world.

From: My Poetic Side

The rest of his days were spent in this institution and he died in 1864, aged 71.  He is buried in Helpston churchyard, the village where he grew up and his poetry is commemorated every year by children of the John Clare Primary School who honour him every summer on the 13^th of July- the date of his birth.

Mauvaise Foi: Sartre, Freedom, Fear & the Courage to Start Over

"Man is condemned to be free; because once thrown into the world, he is responsible for everything he does." -Jean-Paul Sartre

 

Making mistakes is also part of the journey. Every decision, even those that seem like mistakes, teaches us something about who we are and where we want to go. Starting over is never truly starting from scratch; we carry with us what we have learned, the scars we have collected, and the experiences that brought us to where we are.

In the end, we all have a choice: to live a life designed around the expectations of others, or to build one that genuinely reflects who we are.

So, do we stay where we are or do we dare to start again?

I'm not talking about mediocrity, but about the comfort that comes from fear. This “comfort” isn't always conscious. Sometimes it simply feels like security, familiarity, or the certainty of knowing what comes next.

The fear of moving

-The false security of staying where one no longer grows.

I firmly believe that staying where one no longer belongs is a phase, which can become dangerous and endless.

Most of us probably go through this phase; for some it lasts a few weeks, maybe months, but it becomes dangerous when it stretches into years.

Many people live in what I now think of as a state of existential passivity. I used to describe it simply as "living without awareness," but philosophy and psychology offer more precise language for this condition.

Philosophical and Psychological Concepts

1. Bad faith (Jean-Paul Sartre): The existentialist philosopher used this term to describe the act of self-deception to escape freedom. The person pretends they have no options ("I have no choice," "I must do this") to avoid the anguish and responsibility of choosing their own path. A psychological state that can develop after repeated experiences of powerlessness. Eventually, the person believes that nothing they do will make a difference, so they stop trying ... even when change becomes possible.
2. External locus of control: Psychologists such as Julian Rotter define this as the belief that external forces (luck, fate, society, or family) determine everything that happens, thereby eliminating the notion of personal agency.
3. The impersonal "Self" (Martin Heidegger): Heidegger described inauthentic existence as living under the dictates of "what is said" or "what is done." The person doesn't choose for themselves but lets the masses choose for them.

All these definitions have something in common: the self-deception or self-convincing that we have no control over anything. Once our mind "awakens," it wants to change, and we realize that we do have some control; we want to start over.

The phases of becoming responsible and aware of our lives

Now, this is the hardest part, but keep reading. We used to live deceived, but now we're awake. Now the challenges and doubts begin, and many voices in our minds will try to make us stop taking responsibility for our choices.These are the phases you will go through: 

1. Conformity

You want to change your mind, your life, your world. It all sounds very broad, very difficult, and you don't know where to start. After mentally torturing yourself, you tell yourself it's easier to leave things as they are. What's good about changing? Why did you even think about it? Then the same thing happens, but in reverse: your mind awakens to new possibilities and starts asking yourself why you can't live a different life.

2. Authenticity

You've lived for many years the way you are: you dress a certain way, you speak a certain way, you have certain friends, you go to certain places, etc.

When you decide to start over, you realize you've changed, sometimes drastically, sometimes only in certain aspects, and that to live differently, many things have changed or will change because it's the natural evolution of everything. It isn't about becoming someone else. It's about becoming a more complete version of yourself.

Once this starts happening, you might feel like a fraud. You think differently, you want to talk about different things and look different; you begin to doubt whether the change truly reflects who you are or if you're just disguising yourself as someone else.

Conversely, other people return to their original form, and this has the opposite effect; they feel stronger. It feels like an archaeologist uncovering a forgotten civilization. Piece by piece, what was buried begins to explain who we really are.

3. Failure

This phase comes after you've overcome the doubt about your new or renewed self. Why do you feel like you've failed? Because, as is natural for human beings, we want every change and result to be immediately apparent. When the change in your life doesn't happen, you feel like you've failed. Of course, this isn't the case. It takes time and work on yourself. The change is primarily in the mind.

4. Comparing Yourself to Others

Another hurdle in the process of your rebirth. Before, you didn't notice people who were more successful, happier, or healthier than you, but once your eyes are open, your mind creates an unnecessary comparison, and you can sabotage yourself.

5. The Perfect Moment

This is the part where we waste time; we are waiting for "the perfect moment" to start changing, but that perfect moment may or may not arrive if we let life take charge; we are the ones who decide when the perfect moment is to start, ready or not.

Mauvaise Foi -Bad Faith  (Jean-Paul Sartre)

What is "Bad Faith" 

According to Sartre, humans are condemned by their freedom. Why? Because we are forced to make choices every day of our lives, which means we are responsible for our lives. Let's face it, when we think about it, that level of responsibility can cause anyone to get anxious or sick. 

So what do we do to survive, to soften the blow of the realization?  We lie.

According to Sartre, we lie to ourselves. We pretend we are not 100% responsible for our actions; we are not responsible for the path our life has taken; we pretend we don't have options. To give you some examples:

1. That's the way I am ( my favorite one): Of course you can change, maybe not immediately or completely; you just don't want to) but you are avoiding the harder question:

"What if I could change?"

2. I can't leave him because I love him.: AKA Love removes my freedom. Love is real. Attachment is real. Leaving can be extraordinarily difficult. But Sartre would argue that even in those circumstances, we are still making a choice. Love influences us; it does not erase our freedom.

3. I don't have time for anything: I am not on my priority list; everyone else is, or I'm choosing to spend my time on other priorities.

Jean-Paul Sartre illustrates Mauvaise Foi with these examples

The Café Waiter

Sartre describes watching a waiter whose movements are a little too precise, a little too eager, a little too mechanical. The waiter is playing a role: he is turning himself into a "waiter-object." He acts as though his entire identity and essence are defined by his job description. He pretends that "waiter" is just a social role he chooses to perform, not what he inherently is.

The main point: People often confuse our job title, social role, or public persona with who we actually are. If we become mothers/fathers, we think we have to change; if we have a different social position, we don't socialize with others as we used to. We begin confusing the roles we play with who we actually are. 

The First Date

Sartre describes a woman on a date. Her companion takes her hand. She knows this signals a romantic move, but she doesn't want to make a choice (either to accept it or reject it). She leaves her hand in his and pretends not to notice, talking deeply about intellectual matters. She treats her hand as a passive piece of physical matter, a mere object, to avoid deciding what she wants.

The Takeaway: Passive indecision/ Refusing to decide is still a decision, a choice to deny your own agency. You are pretending you don't have power. You pretend you are helpless to this "opportunity in front of you." It happened; now you have to let it run its course. 

How does this affect us today?

• Social Media: Social media encourages us to become the authors, editors, marketers, and actors of our own identities. We carefully select photos, captions, opinions, and even personalities depending on the platform. LinkedIn asks for one version of us, Instagram another, TikTok another. None of these identities are necessarily false, but they can become performances we mistake for our authentic selves.
  
• Professional burnout: Staying in a miserable career because "it's the only option" is a classic example of hiding from our scary, real choices. We stay because telling ourselves "I have no choice" feels less frightening than admitting we do have one.
• Algorithm Culture: Recommendation algorithms don't make our decisions for us, but they can tempt us to outsource them. The more we let trends, influencers, and recommendation systems tell us what to watch, wear, believe, or pursue, the easier it becomes to avoid asking ourselves what we actually want.

Sure, we have been conditioned and grew up in an environment where people actually believe we don't have choices, we can't be responsible for our lives, but we are now conscious of it. We need to understand that we make everyday choices; sure, they are not easy, pretty, or comfortable, but who wouldn't like to be in control of their destiny?  Recognizing Mauvaise Foi in yourself isn't meant to cause guilt; it's an invitation to take the wheel back. The next time you catch yourself saying "I have to," try swapping it for "I am choosing to."

But as Sartre reminds us: The script is never finished, and you're the one holding the pen.

Sartre wasn't arguing that we control everything. We don't choose where we're born, our past, our genetics, or every circumstance we face. He called these realities our facticity. What we do choose is how we respond to them. Freedom doesn't mean unlimited possibilities; it means responsibility within the possibilities we actually have.