Personal Work
Grief isn't a sign something went wrong. It's what love does when it can't reach someone.
Maybe you lost someone, and the world went back to normal while you're still standing in it. Maybe the person is alive, and that's its own kind of grief: the marriage that ended, the friend who drifted, the family member you love and can barely talk to. Or maybe you're grieving something that never got to happen: the years you thought you'd have, the relationship that never became what it could have been, the apology that isn't coming.
All of it counts. And here's what I want you to know early: you're not doing this wrong, and you don't have to do it alone. I've sat with grief in all its shapes, and it changes. Not by shrinking the love. By teaching you how to carry it.
You might recognize this
I was fine. Then a song, a smell, an ordinary Tuesday, and I wasn't.
I say I'm okay, because the real answer takes longer than anyone can stay.
I still reach for my phone to tell them things.
If it stops hurting, does that mean I'm leaving them behind?
Why it comes in waves
Nothing is wrong with you. Grief doesn't run on a schedule, and it doesn't move in a straight line. It comes in waves because love comes in waves, and the size of the missing matches the size of the love.
A lot of people quietly hold onto the pain like it's the last thing connecting them to the person. It isn't.
The love was never in the pain. It just got tangled up with it for a while.
What the work is
There's no getting over, and I won't ask you to. The work is making room: for the sadness and the ordinary days, for the missing and the living, both at once. We untangle the love from the pain, so you can keep one without being run by the other.
If the person is gone, we work on carrying them with you instead of only aching after them. If the person is living, we work on your side of the distance, which is the only side you can do anything with, and it's enough to change things. And if you're grieving what never got to be, we give it the honest goodbye it never got.
What changes
The waves keep coming, but they stop taking you under. You can say their name without bracing. You can remember without drowning, and laugh without guilt, because joy stops feeling like a betrayal.
The missing doesn't disappear. It softens into something you can hold. And the love gets to be love again.
Start here
Bring the grief exactly as it is: messy, complicated, brand new or years old. There's no wrong version, and there's no deadline.
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