09/28/2026
Through my own Craniosacral journey and witnessing others I find this to be true with GRIEF:
Grieving is a lifelong journey—one that teaches us about love, needs, loss, and learning to let go. Like the ocean, grief ebbs and flows. It changes shape. It recedes and returns, sometimes gently and sometimes with a force we did not expect.
Without the ability to grieve, we may find ourselves blocked or bracing, carrying a sense of not fully belonging—as though something is missing, yet we cannot quite put our finger on what it is or what is wrong.
We may grieve parts of ourselves that disappeared, became quiet, or moved out of reach in order for us to survive. We may also come to know parts of ourselves that emerged during difficult or traumatic experiences—parts we did not know existed until they were needed. Fierce parts. Protective parts. Capable parts. Parts that learned how to endure, disconnect, fight, freeze, adapt, perform, caretake, or keep moving when stopping did not feel possible.
Some of these parts may have carried us through what once felt unbearable. Later, when the danger has passed, we may discover that the ways they protected us no longer fit the life we are trying to live. Grief can be part of meeting all of this with compassion: mourning what had to disappear, honoring what came forward to help us survive, and making space for parts of ourselves that may now be ready to return—or for the capacity to bring forth a part of ourselves we never knew existed, allowing us to live more fully and to discover new ways of thriving.
Sometimes healing is not only about reclaiming what was lost. It can also be about discovering what has not yet had the chance to emerge—new capacities, new ways of relating, and new possibilities for how we move through the world.
We may grieve the things we had to endure, the things we had to become, or the things we had to do when there seemed to be no other choice. Sometimes it takes years, even decades, to find the words for what happened —to recognize the feelings connected to it and to discover where those experiences have been held in the body.
Grief asks to be felt, not solved.
We process so that we can digest what could not be digested before. We make room for what happened without allowing it to occupy every part of us. Slowly, what has felt frozen may begin to move. What has felt unbearably heavy or painful may become something we can carry differently. We may find more space to breathe, soften, connect, and flow.
Sometimes we grieve the death of someone we love—their presence, their voice, their touch, the memories we shared, and all of the “yet to comes” that never will. We grieve not only what was lost, but the future we imagined continuing alongside them. Sometimes we grieve a different version of the person that passed that we needed and did not get. Grief, like healing is not linear, it can be complex and messy but when you can give yourself permission to grieve, it changes and you change.
Allowing ourselves to feel that grief can bring immense pain and sadness. Yet grief is also an expression of love. The depth of our sorrow often speaks to the depth of what mattered.
Perhaps healing does not mean filling the absence or closing the cracks left by loss. Perhaps it means allowing grief, love, memory, and life to flow through those spaces—softening their edges over time.
We do not necessarily “get over” grief.
We learn its tides.
We learn how to live beside it.
And, little by little, we may discover that grief is not only about what we have lost. It can also become a way of honoring what we loved, what we needed, what we survived, the parts of us that carried us through, the parts that may now be finding their way home, and the parts of ourselves that are only now beginning to emerge—helping us live more fully and find new ways of thriving.
