Grief is a Living Process, Not a Project
When someone you love dies, or when a relationship, identity, or future you counted on disappears, your system reorganises around that absence. We treat grief as a sacred adjustment to love. We don’t have to get over it; we need companionship and permission to feel what’s real.

Beyond “Stages”: Seasons and Waves
Clients often ask about the “stages of grief.” I frame them as helpful lenses, not a to-do list. The old stages model was presented as a heuristic; experiences can overlap, repeat, or disappear entirely, and hope often coexists with pain. That nuance matters; it keeps us from policing our feelings or assuming we’re doing grief “wrong.”

The Many Doors Sorrow Walks Through
Grief isn’t only about death. Francis Weller describes five “gates” through which it arrives: losses of what (and whom) we love; the unloved parts of ourselves; the sorrows of the world; what we expected and did not receive; and ancestral grief carried in our bodies. This model helps people recognise why their hearts feel heavy, even when nothing “obvious” happened last week. Naming the gate can soften shame and open care.

Ritual, Community, and the Nervous System
Grief needs movement and witnessing. In sessions, we may use gentle, somatic pacing and simple rituals like breath-led grounding, and symbolic practices so that the load becomes shared. When we allow others to hold us in our deepest pain, our body loosens its defensive grip and allows tears, tremors, or stillness to do their quiet repair. Grief has always been communal; ritual gives it safe pathways again. So, taking part in talking circles outside of therapy is also recommended.

Practicing Grief in Daily Life
Here’s how I invite clients to work with grief between sessions:

• Make room for waves. Block small, regular time for grief care (writing, walking, or sitting with a photo) so sorrow doesn’t have to ambush you. (Think seasons, not steps.)

• Choose company wisely. Share with people who can witness without fixing; companionship beats advice.

• Let the body lead. If your chest tightens or your breath shortens, slow down, lengthen your exhale, and allow micro-movements. The goal is tolerable contact, not catharsis on demand.

• Hold both/and. Grief and gratitude belong together. Many clients notice glimmers of meaning after a ritual or a good cry. Not because pain vanishes, but because it’s finally met.

As a therapist, my role is to help you build a relationship with grief that’s honest, embodied, and supported. When sorrow is welcomed through language, ritual, and attention, it tends to move. And as it moves, life does too: not back to “before,” but forward into a deeper, more truthful connection with what (and who) you love.

For more information, check out my recommended reading list or the references below.

References:

• Devine, M. (2017). It’s OK That You’re Not OK: Meeting Grief and Loss in a Culture That Doesn’t Understand. Sounds True.
• Kübler-Ross, E. (1969). On Death and Dying. Macmillan. (40th anniversary ed. 2009, Scribner).
• Weller, F. (2015). The Wild Edge of Sorrow: Rituals of Renewal and the Sacred Work of Grief. North Atlantic Books.