Welcome to tonight's guided sleep meditation for grief and loss.
If you're here,
I'm guessing you're tired,
But your heart or your mind is still awake.
Some nights,
Grief is loud.
Other nights,
Grief is quiet,
But it sits there anyway,
Like a weight you can't shift.
Either way,
It can make sleep feel strangely far away.
Even though loss is a part of life,
We're never really prepared for it.
When it happens,
It can take us by surprise.
It can feel overwhelming and disorienting,
Like the world kept moving and we didn't get the memo.
Now,
I know grief is painful,
But it's also a sign that something mattered.
That someone mattered.
That there was love there.
So tonight,
If it feels possible,
Let's make space for both.
Let's make space for the grief and for the love that gave rise to it.
And this includes all kinds of loss.
It might be someone you love.
It might be a relationship,
A friendship,
A chapter of your life you didn't want to end.
Or it might be a pet.
And if it's a pet and you ever felt like you have to justify that kind of grief,
You don't have to.
That bond was real.
So the grief is real.
I'm Chibs O'Carrick,
And I'll be here with you for a while.
I've known grief too,
So I get how heavy it can feel.
In the body,
In the chest,
And in the quiet moments like this.
Tonight,
We're not here to fix anything.
We're not here to push the grief away.
We're creating a safe,
Kind space to sit with what's here.
So that your nervous system can soften,
And your body can do what it's been doing all this time.
Trying to do all day.
Rest.
We'll begin by settling the body and softening the nervous system.
Then we'll move through a calm body scan.
Then,
If it feels okay,
We'll meet any memories gently,
Without forcing anything.
And we'll finish with gentle affirmations,
Repeating softly in the background,
While you sleep.
If you're ready,
Feel free to gently close the eyes.
But if closing your eyes makes you feel more on edge,
You're more than welcome to keep them slightly open for a while.
Maybe you can keep a soft gaze,
Letting a little light in.
Whatever helps your body feel safer,
That's the right option.
If you want to skip a part,
That's completely fine.
You're in control here.
You can let my voice fade into the background.
Or you can press pause and come back another time.
This meditation is support.
It's not a test.
So now,
Whenever you're ready,
Let's take a moment to help your body settle and get comfortable.
Shifting position if you need to.
Letting the head feel supported.
Allowing the neck to feel long and easy.
If you're on your back,
Perhaps letting the arms rest by your sides.
Or maybe one hand on the belly,
One hand on the chest.
If you're on your side,
Perhaps you could bring a pillow between the knees.
Or hug something soft.
This is your time.
You're in control.
So finding the position that feels most kind for tonight.
And if you're not sure what position that is,
Maybe experimenting a little.
Sometimes,
A small adjustment changes everything.
Let's begin to notice the weight of the body.
The mattress holding us.
Gravity doing its job,
So we don't have to.
Letting the shoulders drop,
Even by 1%.
Softening the muscles around the eyes.
Noticing the jaw and letting it loosen.
Letting the tongue rest in the mouth,
If that feels comfortable.
Allowing the hands to be easy.
Nothing to grip,
Nothing to brace for.
Just our body,
Being held.
And if any part of you still feels on alert,
That's ok.
We're not forcing calm.
We're simply offering the body a few signals that it can start to power down.
So now,
In your own time,
Bringing gentle attention to the breath.
Starting just by noticing the breath.
Nothing to change,
Nothing to get right.
Just noticing the inhale.
And noticing the exhale.
If it feels good,
Paying just a little more attention to the out-breath.
We're not forcing the exhale.
We're just noticing the exhale.
And if the mind wanders,
To thoughts,
To memories,
To the person or the pet that you miss,
That's completely normal.
Whenever we notice we've drifted,
Just gently coming back.
Back to this feeling of breathing.
Back to this moment.
And if it feels ok tonight,
Allowing the exhale to be a little longer than the inhale.
Not by a lot,
Just a small nudge.
Like a soft sigh,
Without any effort.
And perhaps we're noticing how a longer exhale can send a quiet message to the nervous system.
A message to tell the nervous system that it can power down.
And staying with this longer exhale for a few breaths,
At your own pace.
And whenever you like,
Allowing the breath to return to its natural rhythm.
And noticing what's here now.
Maybe the body feels a touch heavier.
Maybe the mind feels a little less sharp.
Or maybe it feels the same.
Whatever we notice is fine.
The breath can be a home base tonight.
Something simple to come back to,
Whenever we need.
And from here,
Gently scanning through the body,
With that same kind attention.
Not to force anything to change.
Just noticing what's already here.
Grief can show up in the body in quiet ways.
A heaviness,
A tightness,
A tiredness that sits in the bones.
So we're checking in,
With kindness.
And let's begin to bring our attention all the way down to the feet.
Noticing the soles of the feet.
The heels.
The toes.
Maybe there's warmth.
Maybe there's coolness.
Maybe there's not much sensation at all.
Whatever we find is okay.
And if it feels right,
Allowing the feet to soften,
Just a little.
And now bringing that same gentle attention up into the ankles.
And into the lower legs.
The calves.
The shins.
And now to the upper legs.
The thighs.
The hamstrings.
Allowing the legs to feel a little heavier against the bed.
As if the legs are allowed to be off-duty for a while.
And now bringing our awareness to the hips.
The pelvis.
This is a place where we hold so much without realising.
If it feels okay,
Letting the hips settle.
Letting the bed take a little more of our weight.
And now bringing our attention to the lower back.
The middle back.
The upper back.
Noticing all the points of contact where our body meets the mattress.
And if there's tension anywhere,
We don't have to get rid of it.
We're just making a little space around it.
Now bringing our attention to the belly.
And now to the chest.
For many of us,
Grief shows up around this area.
A tight chest.
A heavy chest.
A belly that feels knotted or unsettled.
So if it feels safe tonight,
Maybe we can try allowing the belly to soften a touch on the exhale.
Not forcing.
Just allowing.
And now noticing the rise and fall of the chest.
The gentle movement as we breathe.
If emotion shows up here,
That's okay.
If nothing shows up here,
That's okay too.
Being here,
Breathing,
Is more than enough.
And now moving our awareness to the shoulders.
Noticing if the shoulders are lifted.
Or braced.
Or tired.
Allowing the shoulders to drop just a fraction if they can.
And now moving to the arms.
The elbows.
The forearms.
The hands.
The fingers.
We are letting the hands be unbothered.
Not doing.
Not holding.
And now bringing our awareness to the neck.
The throat.
The jaw.
Allowing the jaw to loosen again if it feels comfortable.
And allowing the tongue to rest.
Moving our awareness to the face now.
The cheeks.
The eyes.
The forehead.
We are letting the muscles here soften.
Like we are taking off a tight mask.
And now,
Let's bring our awareness to the whole body.
From the top of the head,
Down to the tips of the fingers and the tips of the toes.
We are sensing the body as one shape.
One weight.
Being held.
And if the mind has wandered,
That's perfectly normal.
All we need to do is gently make our way back to the feeling of the body.
Back to this bed.
Back to this moment.
And from here,
Just noticing what's present.
Without needing to do anything with it.
Grief can come in waves.
Sometimes it's right on the surface.
Sometimes it's somewhere in the background.
But it still takes up space.
So tonight,
We are letting it be what it is.
If there's sadness,
Noticing sadness.
If there's anger,
Noticing anger.
If there's guilt,
Noticing guilt.
And if there's relief mixed in there somewhere,
Noticing that too.
And if there's numbness,
Or nothing much at all,
That counts as well.
Grief doesn't always show up as tears.
Sometimes it shows up as a tight chest.
Or a lump in the throat.
Or a restless mind that keeps replaying things.
Or a tiredness that doesn't shift,
Even after a full day.
And none of this needs fixing right now.
This isn't the time for life admin.
This isn't the time for solving our whole story.
This is a moment to acknowledge what's here and let the body rest underneath it.
And if any feeling starts to get too big,
We're welcome to gently widen our focus.
We might shift our focus to feeling the bed again.
Perhaps feeling the points of contact.
Maybe hearing the sound in the room.
We can allow the breath to be simple.
And we can come back to the basics.
And only if we feel up to it.
Moving towards something gentle.
Maybe a small memory.
Or a quiet sense of connection.
Without forcing anything.
We're not digging.
We're not making anything happen.
We're simply allowing a small sense of connection.
If it's there.
And if it's not there tonight,
That's okay too.
Sometimes the kindest thing to do is simply rest.
So for the next few moments,
We're welcome to allow one small memory to arrive.
Not the whole story.
Not the hardest moment.
Just something simple.
Maybe a look.
A laugh.
A routine.
A shared place.
If this is a person you're missing.
Maybe it's the sound of their voice.
Or the way you felt around them.
When things were calm.
If this is a pet.
Maybe it's the sound of paws.
Or the way they greeted you when you came home.
And if the mind tries to turn this into a full movie.
Just seeing if we can allow it to stay small tonight.
One moment.
One snapshot.
Noticing what happens in the body as that memory is here.
Maybe there's warmth.
Maybe there's an ache.
Maybe there's nothing obvious.
All of it is allowed.
And if it feels too sharp.
Feel free to zoom out.
And come back to the bed.
Or come back to the weight of the body.
But if it feels ok to stay with it.
Feel free to stay.
Feel free to stay with this memory.
Just for a few breaths.
And now allowing that memory to soften into something even simpler.
A quiet sense of what they gave you.
That you still carry.
It could be a value.
A lesson.
A softness.
A sense of humour.
A feeling of being loved.
We're not trying to make meaning.
We're just noticing.
And we're allowing love to exist here.
Without demanding anything from it.
And now easing into a gentle release.
Not pushing anything out.
Just allowing the body to soften where it can.
Noticing the hands.
Allowing the fingers to rest.
Allowing the palms to be open.
Or relaxed.
In whatever way feels easiest.
Noticing the shoulders.
Letting them sink just a little.
Noticing the space behind the eyes.
Letting it soften.
And if it feels ok.
Allowing one slow exhale.
Like a quiet sigh.
Nothing dramatic.
Just a soft letting go.
And if emotion shows up.
That's ok.
If tears come.
Letting them be there.
If nothing comes.
That's ok too.
Now imagining this.
Just for tonight.
Placing the grief somewhere safe.
Not getting rid of it.
Not shutting it down.
Just giving it a place to rest.
While you rest.
Our place might be a box with a lid.
It might be a shelf.
It might be a book that we close.
With a bookmark inside.
And knowing we can come back to it when we need to.
But for now.
Allowing the night to hold you.
Letting the bed do the work.
And slowly.
Drifting into something quieter.
Something simple.
Something steady.
And now.
Settling into that quiet.
Imagining a warm light in a window.
Not bright.
Just soft.
Like the kind of light that tells the body.
You're safe enough to rest.
Maybe you're inside.
Looking out.
Or maybe you're outside.
Seeing it from a distance.
Either way.
There's a feeling of shelter.
A feeling of being held.
Imagining the night air.
Cool and calm.
The world quieter.
Than it was during the day.
Fewer demands.
Fewer voices.
Just the steady rhythm of night.
And as you picture that warm light.
Noticing your own body.
The heaviness of the legs.
The softness in the shoulders.
The face relaxing.
Breathing happening on its own.
Nothing to manage.
Nothing to monitor.
And if thoughts come.
Allowing them to pass like clouds.
If memories come.
Allowing them to pass too.
We're not pushing.
We're not pulling.
We're just allowing.
Coming back to this feeling of being held.
The mattress underneath us.
The warmth of the blanket.
The simple fact.
That we're here.
And we've made it to bed.
And if the grief is still present.
Allowing it to be present.
Not as a problem.
But as something that's here.
Like weather moving through.
And slowly.
Allowing the body to sink.
A little more.
Each inhale.
Each breath.
Settling.
Each exhale.
Softening.
Each moment.
Becoming less effort.
And if sleep comes.
Letting it come.
No need to notice it.
No need to chase it.
Just allowing the night to do what it does.
More space.
More quiet.
We're noticing the breath.
Just as it is.
We're noticing the body.
Just as it is.
Allowing the jaw to be loose.
Allowing the shoulders to be heavy.
Allowing the hands to be still.
And now.
We're going to allow a few gentle affirmations to play.
You're welcome to listen to them.
Or you can allow them to fade into the background.
As you drift.
These gentle affirmations will now repeat for a while.
So you don't have to do anything at all.
Just allow them to play.
I'm allowed to rest.
Even while I miss you.
Missing you doesn't mean I'm doing this wrong.
This hurts because the love was real.
Grief can be here.
And sleep can come too.
I don't have to hold it all together tonight.
I'm safe in this bed.
In this moment.
It's okay to miss you.
And still let my body sleep.
I don't have to replay everything tonight.
Sleep can come in its own time.
And I don't have to chase it.
It's safe to let the bed hold me.
One breath at a time.
My body can soften.
Whatever shows up tonight can be here.
If feelings rise.
That's okay.
They can pass through.
I don't have to make sense of this tonight.
If numbness comes.
That can be here too.
However it is tonight.
It's okay.
I can carry the love.
Without carrying the strain.
I'm allowed to rest.
Even while I miss you.
Missing you doesn't mean I'm doing this wrong.
This hurts.
Because the love was real.
Grief can be here.
And sleep can come too.
I don't have to hold it all together tonight.
I'm safe in this bed.
In this moment.
It's okay to miss you.
And still let my body sleep.
I don't have to replay everything tonight.
Sleep can come in its own time.
And I don't have to chase it.
It's safe to let the bed hold me.
One breath at a time.
My body can soften.
Whatever shows up tonight.
Can be here.
If feelings rise.
That's okay.
They can pass through.
I don't have to make sense of this tonight.
If numbness comes.
That can be here too.
However it is tonight.
It's okay.
I can carry the love.
Without carrying the strain.
I'm allowed to rest.
Even while I miss you.
Missing you doesn't mean I'm doing this wrong.
This hurts.
Because the love was real.
Grief can be here.
And sleep can come too.
I don't have to hold it all together tonight.
I'm safe in this bed.
In this moment.
It's okay to miss you.
And still let my body sleep.
I don't have to replay everything tonight.
Sleep can come in its own time.
And I don't have to chase it.
It's safe to let the bed hold me.
One breath at a time.
My body can soften.
Whatever shows up tonight.
Can be here.
If feelings rise.
That's okay.
They can pass through.
I don't have to make sense of this tonight.
If numbness comes.
That can be here too.
However it is tonight.
It's okay.
I can carry the love.
Without carrying the strain.
