Grief Is a Place: How to Care for Yourself in the Landscape of Loss
Grief is not a problem to be solved. It's not linear, tidy, or predictable. And despite what many think, grief isn’t reserved just for death. It can arise from breakups, job loss, identity shifts, dreams deferred, and the subtle heartbreaks we carry silently. Grief has no one face, only many expressions.
One of the most loving truths I can offer is this: grief is different for everyone. It doesn't follow a timeline, and it doesn't ask permission. It’s not something you “get over,” but something you live through. In my practice, I've found it helpful to think of grief not as a feeling, but as a place. A terrain. A season. A sacred, aching inner landscape that you now find yourself in.
If grief is a place, how might you tend to it?
You didn’t choose to arrive here, but now that you’re in it, you can choose how to care for yourself within it. Think of grief like a river, it flows at its own pace. You can’t control the current. But you can light a candle beside it. You can bring in softness. You can decorate your grief with gentleness, with art, with rest, with music, with warm food and safe people. You can name it, draw it, write to it. You can bring beauty to the banks of that river. You can plant something there.
Here are a few ways to care for yourself inside grief:
Create small rituals: light a candle for what you lost, write daily letters to your grief, speak aloud to it like a friend.
Be generous with rest: grief is exhausting. Take naps. Let your body lead.
Name your seasons: some days are tsunami, some are mist. Know that both are valid.
Soften your space: surround yourself with colors, textures, and scents that soothe you. Let your environment reflect comfort.
Let others walk with you: share your story with someone safe. You don’t need to navigate this place alone.
And here’s something else that may feel mysterious and true all at once: sometimes, without notice or effort, grief lifts. It doesn’t leave entirely. But it changes. The river slows, or you find a raft. One day, the colors return, and the world feels a little less heavy. Not because you forced it. But because the place of grief, like any natural season, eventually transforms.
Grief will mark you, but it doesn’t ruin you. It is a holy, human terrain that asks only this: be tender with yourself while you’re in it.
Therapy can help. Whether you need a map, a witness, or a quiet space to feel, grief counseling offers a place to be held in your sorrow without needing to rush through it. Together, we can tend your grief-place with care, intuition, and heart.
Disclaimer: this blog is NOT intended as medical advice and does not imply any kind of specific guidance or treatment recommendations, and should NOT be used to guide a treatment protocol.
