What grief really feels like is different for everyone, but there’s one thing I’ve come to know in my work and as a human: grief is not something to fix or rush through.
It is a process — one that deserves space, attention, and gentle care. It doesn’t follow a script and can take many forms.
It's the ache of losing a loved one, the painful sorrow after a breakup, the absence left behind by a mate from times gone by, or the loss of a pet who was a best friend.
I’ve learned that grief, much like the wind, can be both a gentle breeze and a cataclysmic tornado, that could knock you off your feet at any given moment.
And does.
There was a misconception for many years that grief follows stages - denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance - which was 'debunked' in recent years as not being linear or prescriptive.
The quotation marks are because, in On Grief and Grieving, Kübler-Ross says that her idea was never intended to be interpreted that way but instead as the 'debunked' perception of recent years.
Grief flows in waves, sometimes gently, sometimes crashing over us in unexpected moments. Some days, it will makes us feel like we can't breath. Other days, it’s a quiet hum that we carry with us, just beneath the surface, making it easier to momentarily trick ourselves into thinking that its presence is becoming less foreboding.
Before the next tsunami comes and we're reminded that grief is far from done with us.
If you’re grieving right now, you might feel that your experience is different from others and so nobody understands, and that’s okay.
Your grief is your own. You don't have to explain it and you definitely don't need to be comparing it to anyone else's experience or timeline.
Perhaps it feels like a deep, heart-shattering sadness, or maybe it’s a numbness that feels like you’re walking through life in a fog.
There, but vacant.
Maybe you’re angry, or you’re bargaining with the universe, or God.
Maybe you're not speaking to Him at all right now, and that's ok too.
It’s all valid.
Grief isn’t about fitting into a neat box or following a prescribed path. It’s about honoring what you’re feeling in this moment, however that looks for you.
In the quiet of my cottage, I’ve come to realise that grief can also be sacred — sitting in it, although painful, is a time to reflect, remember, and connect.
Even if we can only tolerate it for a moment.
And that’s why it’s so important not to rush through it. When we rush, we miss the opportunity to sit with our feelings, to allow them to unfold and teach us things we didn’t know we needed to learn. We feel like there is a finite amount of grief to sift through and if we go quickly that it will somehow hurt less, like ripping off a plaster.
But grief is not a finite thing. It is a process with no timeline or end goal other than learning to live with the process.
How to Navigate Grief at Home
It’s easy to feel like grief is consuming us. And while there’s no quick fix, there are gentle ways to care for yourself during this time.
Here are a few small, simple steps you can take in the comfort of your own home to help navigate the emotional landscape of grief.
1. Create a Special Space
Find a quiet corner of your home, or a place that feels safe to you, where you can sit with your emotions. It could be a cosy chair by the window or a nook in your bedroom — anywhere that feels like a sanctuary. Light a candle, sit in silence, and allow yourself to simply be with your feelings. There’s no need for words, just a space to honor what you’re going through.
Trust that the wave will come and then pass.
2. Journaling: The Essential Grief Companion
Writing is one of the most powerful tools for processing grief. Let the words be messy, and let them come without judgment.
Try and get into the habit of taking your journal everywhere you go - including from room to room as you go about your day. Sometimes (often) grief can cause the mind to race so write down every thought that hooks your attention. It is not a waste of time. Whether it's keywords, bullpoints or full sentences/paragraphs/pages, writing will help you to feel contained whilst navigating the choppy waters.
3. Grounding Through Nature
As someone who lives surrounded by the gentle hum of nature, I’ve found that being outside can be incredibly healing. It's not the same as distracting yourself with a task. It's a means to connect to something deeper and more peaceful, allowing you some respite, even if it is a space for your grief to explore.
If going outside isn’t possible, try bringing nature into your space. Place a few plants in your room, light some herbal incense, or even just open a window to let in the breeze. Put on a meditation or nature/rain/wind sounds.
Nature has an innate ability to hold space for us, grounding us when everything feels uncertain.
4. Self-Compassion: Be Gentle With Yourself
Grief is overwhelming and debilitating.
All you can do is just allow yourself to be. No pressure or expectation.
Soften the inner (and sometimes outer) dialogue that is telling you to try and 'move on.' Instead, offer yourself the kindness you would extend to a friend. Place your hand on your heart, take a deep breath, and remind yourself that it’s okay to feel what you’re feeling. Whatever that is.
Grief doesn’t need to be fixed, it simply needs to be acknowledged with love and patience.
5. Acknowledge the Loss, and Honor What Was
One of the most powerful ways to cope with grief is to honor the love and connection that was.
Andrew Huberman talks about this when he discuss grief and the concept of space, time and closeness. Our brain is wired to being able to detect all three and in grief we are unable to meet the first two concepts, which is why you keep asking over and over again -
Where are they? When will I see them again? Will I ever see them again?
Yet the love remains, unshakeable.
You might want to create a small ritual to commemorate the person or the loss you are grieving. It could be lighting a candle each evening, writing a letter to them, or finding a small object that reminds you of them.
These rituals are not about holding on to the past but about acknowledging the depth of the connection and the significance of the love you shared and still do.
Grief is like a river, moving at its own pace, and we can’t hurry it along. You have to ride the river wild.
In the stillness of the softer moments, remember thatthe only things that matter are the truth of your grief, the beauty of your love and memories, and the strength that comes from allowing your heart to simply be...whatever that feels like, or as much as you think you can't bear it.
You can, and you will.
And if you feel like you can't, then reach out for a helping hand.