Grief has a way of pulling the ground out from under you.
One moment, you’re standing – the next, you’re kneeling, gasping, wondering what just happened.

Maybe you’ve lost a person you loved.
Maybe it’s the death of a relationship, a dream, a version of yourself you thought would always exist.
Grief doesn’t only visit when someone dies – it comes in many shapes, through life’s many tiny and massive endings.

If you’re here reading this, I want to tell you something:
You are not broken. You are grieving.

Let’s walk through this together, one breath at a time.

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What Is This Feeling?

Grief is a strange creature.
It’s heavy and hollow, loud and silent, numb and aching – all at once.

You might feel:
✦ a deep tightness in your chest or throat,
✦ a foggy brain that can’t focus,
✦ waves of anger or sadness that strike without warning,
✦ or a numbness, where you should feel something, but don’t.

You are not doing grief wrong.
This is what grief is. It’s your heart trying to make sense of a world that has shifted.

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How to Survive the Days That Feel Unbearable

When you’re inside grief, survival often feels like the only goal.
Not thriving. Not “moving on.” Just getting through the next five minutes, the next hour, the next slow-turning day.

If you’re in that space, here are some gentle anchors to hold onto – tiny lifelines you can return to, again and again, no matter how lost or broken you feel.

✧ Let your grief move.
Grief isn’t meant to stay locked inside your body.
It’s not tidy or polite – it wants to move through you like a wave.
Cry if you need to. Let your tears be medicine. Scream into a pillow if anger is pounding at your chest. Go for a walk and feel your feet on the earth. Shake out your arms or dance wildly to a song that cracks something open. Write down the tangled mess inside your mind.

Emotions are energy in motion. When we bottle them up, they stagnate and turn inward, creating tension, anxiety, or even illness. Give your grief permission to flow – it doesn’t have to look pretty, it just has to move.

✧ Rest more than you think you should.
Grief is exhausting.
Not just emotionally, but physically, mentally, spiritually. It’s like your whole system is working overtime to process an invisible storm. Even on days when you do “nothing,” your body and nervous system are doing enormous behind-the-scenes work to help you survive this loss.

So rest. Nap in the afternoon. Stay in bed longer. Sit in silence without trying to fill the space. You don’t have to earn rest right now – you deserve it simply because you are carrying something heavy and tender. Let yourself off the hook. Healing happens quietly, often when you’re still.Grief is a full-body process. You are healing, even when you’re not “doing” anything.

✧ Stay soft with yourself.
Grief can stir up an inner critic – that voice saying, You should be better by now. You should be working. You should be coping like that other person.
Let me say it clearly:
There is no timeline. There is no right way.

This is your grief, your path. Skip the “shoulds.” Release the productivity guilt. You are not failing because you can’t keep up. You are surviving a life rupture – and that survival is more than enough. Hold yourself with tenderness, as you would a dear friend. You don’t need to be anywhere but here.Skip the productivity guilt. Skip the “shoulds.” You don’t need to be anywhere but here.

✧ Reach for tiny comforts.
In the vast, overwhelming landscape of grief, small comforts can be surprisingly powerful.
Wrap yourself in a blanket that feels like a hug. Sip a cup of tea, feeling the warmth between your palms. Breathe deeply, even just three slow inhales and exhales. Listen to a song that puts words to your ache when you can’t find them yourself.

These small acts won’t erase your pain, but they will offer tiny islands of relief. Little moments of safety, softness, and presence that remind your system: I’m still here. I’m still held. I can take one more breath.

✧ Stay connected – even when you want to isolate.
Grief often whispers, Pull away. Hide. No one can understand this.
But isolation only deepens the ache.

Reach out, even in the smallest way. Send a message to a friend – not to “talk it out,” but just to say, I’m here, and I’m hurting. Join a space where your grief is welcome, where you can sit quietly among others who know this terrain. Let yourself be witnessed, even without words.

You don’t have to carry this alone. Let others stand beside you, even if all they do is hold the silence with you.Message a friend. Join a space where your grief is allowed. You don’t have to carry this alone.

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What to Do (and Not Do) With Your Grief

Grief is not a project.
It’s not something you can tick off a list, fix with a meditation, or push through on sheer willpower.
It’s a tender, raw, very human process – and it unfolds in its own way, on its own timeline.

Here’s what I want you to remember as you navigate this delicate space:

✓ Let it be messy.
Grief doesn’t move in straight lines.
You might laugh unexpectedly at a memory, only to dissolve into tears a moment later. You might have a good day, followed by a day where getting out of bed feels impossible. You might feel totally numb, then suddenly gutted by pain.

This is all part of the process. You are not “backsliding” or doing it wrong if your grief feels unpredictable or chaotic. Healing isn’t tidy. Let yourself be in the mess – it’s a sign that you are alive, that you are feeling, that you are honoring what has been lost.

✓ Tend to your nervous system.
Grief is not just emotional – it’s a whole-body shock.
Your nervous system takes a massive hit when you experience loss. You might notice shallow breathing, tightness in your chest, headaches, digestive issues, or a constant hum of anxiety.

Supporting your nervous system can help anchor you through the storm.
Try gentle practices like slow, intentional breathwork, EFT tapping on your chest or hands, somatic shaking (literally shaking out your limbs to release built-up tension), or yin yoga poses that invite softness and surrender. These aren’t meant to “get rid” of your grief – they are small ways to help your body feel safe and held inside it.

✓ Avoid bypassing your pain.
It’s tempting to rush past the hard stuff.
To stay busy, stay positive, or tell yourself you should be over it by now. But bypassing your grief only buries it deeper, where it can quietly harden into long-term emotional and physical pain.

Grief needs to be met, not avoided.
You don’t have to heal it overnight – you can’t. You just have to allow it to exist, even when it’s uncomfortable, even when it scares you. Trust that your heart knows how to mend, little by little, if you let it speak.

✓ Give yourself permission to not be okay.
You are allowed to crumble.
You are allowed to feel lost, broken, or incomplete. You are allowed to have days when you can’t show up, when you cancel plans, when you stop pretending you’re fine.

This is a tender season. You don’t have to rush through it or prove how strong you are.
You can simply be. Resting, grieving, pausing, surviving. That, in itself, is an act of courage.

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Inside The Self Care Space: The Grief Collection

If you need support beyond words, I created a special corner inside The Self Care Space just for you.

Our Grief Collection holds:

⟶ Guided yin yoga to help your body release tension and sadness.
⟶ Breathwork journeys for grief release and nervous system reset.
⟶ Meditations and somatic practices designed to help you surrender and let go.

This is not about “fixing” you. It’s about walking with you.
Letting your grief breathe, soften, and slowly transform – at your own pace.

You can explore the Grief Collection inside The Self Care Space here>
You are not alone. You never have been.

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A Love Note to Your Grieving Heart

If you take nothing else from this:
You are allowed to grieve in your own way.
You are allowed to rest, rage, weep, and wonder.
You are allowed to survive one tiny moment at a time.

Your heart knows how to heal, even when you can’t feel it yet.
I’m holding you from here – always.

With all my love,
Pheebs ♡