How to Grieve in a Way That Heals
I’m going to make a bold claim:
Grief is the most misunderstood phenomenon in our society.
It’s common to hear people curse grief, blame themselves for it, or hide it like a dirty secret whenever they’re around others.
If you’ve ever met with me, you’ve heard me talk about grief. This guide is for you. I created it as a resource you can return to outside of session—after a particularly hard day, when a part of you is asking to grieve, or when you realize it’s been a while since you let yourself feel it.
The Cleansing Nature of Grief
If you consult any major dictionary, you’ll likely find definitions of grief as “deep sorrow” or “annoyance,” and to “grieve” as to “suffer” or feel “distress.” All these words point to helplessness—as if our only option is to avoid grief, and if it lands in our lap, we’re doomed.
That’s exactly how grief used to feel for me. When I experienced it, I was told to smile anyway and give it to a religious figure to hold. When that didn’t work, I thought something must be wrong with me… or with my faith.
Let me be the first to say: nothing is wrong with you.
What is wrong is the information we’ve been given about grief.
Let’s come back to the basics and remember what grief actually is:
Grief (noun): an emotion our minds and bodies hold and process after transitions, losses, realizations, or changes.
To grieve (verb): the act of holding and processing grief—in our mind, our body, or both.
Common Questions I Hear About Grief
Can I get rid of it?
People often ask this, but here’s the truth: grief isn’t something to “get rid of.” It’s not a malfunction or flaw. Grief is actually your system working—it’s a built-in, ancient response designed to process deep change. Rather than something to eliminate, grief is something to move through.
How long does grief last?
Early grief is often said to last around two years—but it’s not a straight line or a fixed timeline. Think of grief as something that will walk beside you in different forms. It can be loud at first, then quieter over time. If you tend to it—intentionally and regularly—it won’t stay stuck. It becomes a companion, not a captor.
What does it mean that my body and mind already know how to grieve?
I say this a lot because it’s true: you don’t have to figure grief out or master it. You’re already wired to grieve. Your body has ancient knowledge. Grief is like an internal tide—it rises, it softens, it flows. When we give ourselves permission to feel it in small doses (before it overwhelms), it becomes bearable. Like taking a sip instead of trying to gulp the whole cup.
What if others don’t understand my grief—or back away from me because of it?
You're not alone in this. Many of us have been taught to hide grief. Our society treats grief like something private or shameful. But in many cultures—especially historically—grief was a collective process. People gathered to wail, sing, move, and remember. If others withdraw, it doesn’t mean your grief is wrong. It means you’re grieving in a culture that has forgotten how to hold it.
Is something wrong with me if grief makes me feel disconnected from others?
No. In fact, I would say that kind of disconnection is often a sign you’re grieving in a real, embodied way. Your nervous system is doing something powerful—and not everyone will understand that. This isn’t a flaw in you. It’s a mismatch between your healing and the discomfort others might have with grief. Let that be okay. You don’t have to shrink your sorrow.
A Grounding Exercise to Support Your Grieving
Just like with IFS (Internal Family Systems), grief has become a spiritual practice for me. I drink from it almost daily. When I treat grief as a ritual—something sacred and intentional—I stay in relationship with it. That way, I’m in charge of how it moves through me, instead of it crashing in unexpectedly when I’m most vulnerable (like right before bed).
[ID: Find a physical container in your home - whatever container speaks to you (vase, cup, pot, etc.) Fill it with your grief (metaphorically). Put the container in a place you can see it everyday. Once a day, week, or month (however often your inner world needs grief) intentionally sit down with your container and drink from it. Once you feel “full", set it aside until next time. End with movement by Paul Denniston to unclog any emotion and transform your grief into action. End ID]
Grief isn’t always about death—it can come from change, distance, or losing a sense of who you are.
I'm Katherine Linscott, LMFT. I offer Grief Therapy for those navigating life shifts like emotional distance from family, identity loss, or transitions that leave you feeling untethered.
I also offer therapy for women 45+ and their support systems going through perimenopause.
This season of life is complex—but you don’t have to go through it alone. Learn more about me, or visit my Blog & Podcast or Homepage.