Grief and Healing

Grief.

I can feel the word as it glares from the page… a flood of feelings and memories overcomes me: a prolific ache for a past version of my life,  for a past version of them, for a past version of my… self?

When I say the word aloud, I’m all over the place: sometimes chaotic, and other times, ebbing and flowing, but it’s never the same… grief. It’s never chronological, and it’s never linear. Grief is nuanced and overlapping, and I can hardly tell if it’s friend or foe, for I wouldn’t be lamenting if it weren’t for the absence of all I thought was good— no matter if the good was all a figmentation. 

It was real to me; it was my reality; it was my perception: it was mine. 

Grief implies thievery, and who’d willingly invite a swindler? I did. 

The risk of loving far outweighed my conceivability of loss. Losses that I prayed would never win. I lived beneath the veil of illusion, and my body paid the price: suffering. And then suffering again when I heard the sound of my own laugh, a villain, betraying me through admittance that I can feel full again. 

I still remember the shame I felt at the loss of that relationship; it somehow felt worse to grieve a tangible person. I wept longer for a once-stranger who freely roams the earth than I did for the kin I buried. I felt unbearably guilty, and could hardly see for all the tears, but I could still identify my acquaintance: grief. 

Grief affected me at different times in dissimilar ways that were all somehow the same, and I have hated grief with an unparalleled seething. But I just as soon knew that I must embrace grief with equal and opposite affection because: I loved. 

It's confusing how when grief takes, it also gives.

Grief reminded me of the magic that still surrounded me in human form: the ears that listened to my broken-record words; the hands that glued my cracked-glass pieces back with gold; the hearts that beat double-time for mine so that it could, again, find its rhythm. 

Grief made me grateful for the ones who knew just what to say and equally grateful for the ones who didn’t. They sat, acknowledging the insufficiency of words: knowing that nothing is enough to erase the wounds of being ripped apart, not even time; especially not time; never time. 

Now I wear the wounds like tattoos. I wanted this. I wanted grief. Because without it, I wouldn’t know love’s extremities, or, in some cases, I wouldn’t have learned to love the lesson. 

Two things can be true at once: I love what once was and despise the loss. 

Maybe three things are true with grief: I am glad for both sides of the experience… for I wouldn’t know one in the absence of the other. 

So what do we do with all of this?

Grief makes us question what’s real, what was lost, and who we are now; it can feel like there’s no way through. And while grief doesn’t come with a roadmap, there are mental health tools that can help us hold it more gently.

Grief isn’t something to “get over.” It’s something to tend to, to sit with, to move with rather than push away. Whether you’re grieving the loss of a loved one, a relationship, a dream, or a version of yourself, you’re not alone, and there are ways to care for yourself as you walk this path.

Here are some things we at Caring Heart Counseling encourage our clients (and ourselves) to remember…

1. There’s No “Right” Way to Grieve

Grief doesn’t follow a script. You could feel a multitude of emotions, some simultaneously: sad, angry, numb, guilty, grateful. There’s no timeline; there’s no finish line; there’s no moral high ground in “doing it right.” Permit yourself to feel exactly what you feel, without shame.

2. Let the Body Speak

Grief isn’t just emotional; grief is physical, too. You could experience exhaustion, tension, stomachaches, headaches, brain fog, and so much more. Tending to your body is imperative. You can do so through rest, hydration, movement, and stillness. Find ways to honor your grief and your humanity. 

3. Name the Losses, Big and Small

Sometimes, we only validate the “big” losses, like death and divorce, but grief also comes with smaller, less visible goodbyes. Sometimes we lose a routine, a friend group, or a future we’d imagined. Acknowledging these losses matters too.

4. Create Small Rituals

Lighting a candle, journaling, revisiting a memory, walking in a meaningful place, or even saying someone’s name out loud can create space for healing. Rituals help us remember, release, and reconnect with ourselves and what we've lost.

5. Let Others In—Even When It’s Messy

Try not to worry about eloquence when reaching out to others. Simply saying, “I’m not okay right now” is enough. Surrounding yourself with people who can sit with your grief without trying to fix it is one of the most healing things you can offer yourself. 

At Caring Heart Counseling, we believe grief is not a sign of weakness, but rather, it’s a reflection of love. 

Whether you're navigating fresh loss or holding grief that’s decades old, you deserve support and compassion. If this piece speaks to you and you’re wondering where to begin, we’re here.

Let’s walk through it together.