I‘ve been stuck in grief limbo.

TW: Tod & Euthanasie

Danke für eure Anteilnahme und die zahlreichen Nachrichten zu Frieda. Ich hab jede einzelne gelesen und mich sehr getragen gefühlt. Bisher konnte ich keine davon beantworten, weil es mich immer noch zerreißt.

Frieda wurde am 9.6. in unserem Beisein kremiert. Mein Wunsch war es, ihr noch einen handgepflückten Wildkräuterstrauß umwickelt mit einem handgeschriebenen Brief, sowie ihr Lieblings-Kuscheltier beizulegen. Seither ziehen die Tage ins Land. Die Trauer kommt und geht in Wellen. Gute Sachen passieren, die sich gleichzeitig aber immer ein wenig überschattet anfühlen. Meine liebste Jahreszeit wurde zur größten Hölle aller Zeiten. In den letzten Jahren ist alles sehr schnelllebig, performativ, redundant und austauschbar geworden, sodass ich nur noch wenig Freude am kreieren oder Teilen auf Social Media finden kann. Und ich weiß eh, dass es den allermeisten gerade so geht. Die kollektive Erschöpfung ist spürbar.

Das ist ein Versuch, mich dem Thema Sichtbarkeit wieder etwas anzunähern, weil ich weiß, dass sich dadurch tiefgreifende Connections und wunderschöne Synergien bilden können. Es ist ein aktiver Gegenversuch zu meinem automatic coping: hiding in nature and/or solitude.

Ein paar Zeilen & Gedanken zur Trauer über den Verlust meiner geliebten Wegbegleiterin (EN) - 06|26

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TW: pet loss & euthanasia (including a brief description of a difficult euthanasia experience).

Still trying to process the traumatic euthanasia experience from May. It was such a stressful situation for all of us because it didn't unfold the way any of us had hoped. The medication didn't have the effect it was supposed to, and Frieda became very distressed. This isn't about blaming the vets. I just want to de-romanticize the story of "letting your pet peacefully fall asleep." Watching her fight so hard made it even more heartbreaking to let her go.

The ongoing weeks were accompanied by the ongoing guilt and wondering if I made the choice too soon or waited too long.

Cremation ceremony and having the chance to see her body once again lying in state with some handpicked wildflowers and her favourite cuddly toy next to it, made it easier for me to replace the traumatic experience of saying goodbye with a more peaceful image.

Still, my brain struggles with reordering my life to this new reality. Going through all the stages of grief.

I can’t accept how fast everything went. When the vet got her out of sedation after the CT, she said she'd never seen a dog of Frieda‘s age radiate so much vitality. I keep scrolling through my camera roll, looking for „the moment“ when I should have known something was wrong. Then i keep questioning my decision. Until i go back to the videos of her last days where she was struggling so much to breathe and was already in the dying process. I remember moments when her eyes looked like looking into the void. The last days i nearly didn‘t sleep anymore. Still Frieda had one last burst of strength before the grave. When we had our last walk outside, it felt like she wanted to lead us one last time to her favourite spot at Wienerberg, which is where she probably wanted to die.

In this process of grieving i tend to isolate so i can go inwards and process that immense loss. I know it might not be the healthiest way, but being around people feels almost unbearable right now. Usually, Frieda was the one who carried me through moments like these. Now i have to walk this path by myself but have no idea how.

I wanted to share this in hope it reaches the right people who know how deep a bond with an animal can be and to write it off my heart so it hopefully will help me in this process of whatever that phase of my life is called. I‘ve never felt such guilt in my life.

It‘s been 30 days and my brain gets used to the fact that coming home means walking into an empty apartment.

At least i don't wake up every morning anymore with the first thought that she's not here. It usually comes a little later now.

But she still visits me in my dreams, where I'm usually trying to find a way to heal her and keep her alive. I wanted her to find peace. Now I'm trying to find some for myself, too. I'm still trying to find trust in life again after everything the last seven years have brought - so many losses, lessons and encounters.

Two days after Frieda died, i had to teach my first course for the new herbal teacher training. Life didn't pause because mine had fallen apart. I showed up because people were counting on me, but part of me was still sitting beside her. That experience made me realize how little space our society leaves for grief. We expect people to function almost immediately, while inside they're still trying to understand what happened.

I don’t know much about grieving properly. But I do know that it doesn’t fit neatly into a few days or weeks. And that’s okay.

I want to practise what i wish existed more in the world: This is a place where grief is welcome.

And i want our society to become more open to making space for grief. Until then - or until I feel a bit more like myself again - I'll probably keep retreating into nature and solitude for a while.

It's the only way I currently know how to grieve.

If you’ve read up to here, you’re part of a very small group. Thank you for going this deep with me.

Frieda 14.07.2014 - 28.05.2026