As a holistic practitioner, I have the privilege of walking alongside people through many of life’s transitions. Every person’s story is unique. Some seem to ride the waves with grace, while others feel as though they are barely keeping their head above water. Yet even those who appear to be coping well often tell me there are moments when they suddenly feel stuck again.

Which brings me to the question I hear more often than almost any other.

“I thought I was doing better… so why am I suddenly feeling overwhelmed again?”

It is such an honest question. Perhaps beneath it lies another:

“Why does it feel like I’m moving backwards instead of forwards?”

Whether grief has come through the death of someone you love, the end of a relationship, retirement, a move, illness, the loss of a job, or simply realizing that life no longer looks the way you imagined, many people begin to wonder if they are grieving “the right way.”

The truth is, the shoreline of grief rarely follows a straight line.

It comes in waves.

Some days you feel steady. You laugh with friends, enjoy a walk, lose yourself in a good book, or find yourself making plans for the future. Then, without warning, something shifts. A familiar song begins to play. You catch the scent of someone’s perfume. You drive past a place that holds a memory. Suddenly, the emotions return as though no time has passed at all.

It can feel confusing.

You may wonder if you’ve gone backwards.

But what if you haven’t?

What if this is simply how grief works?

For many years, people believed grief moved through a series of stages in a particular order. Today, we understand something quite different. Research shows that most people naturally move back and forth between focusing on their loss and rebuilding their lives. Neither state is better than the other. 

Both are healthy parts of adapting to change.

Take a moment and think about this.

Our minds and bodies are remarkably wise. They are constantly trying to help us make sense of a world that has changed. Sometimes they invite us to slow down, to pause, and to gently reflect before we are ready to move forward.

When something our minds have categorized as important changes, our brains don’t simply erase what was. Instead, they slowly begin adapting to a new reality. During that process, our nervous system responds. Sleep may be disrupted. Concentration can become foggy. Our muscles tighten. We may feel exhausted. At times, we become emotional over something that seems, on the surface, quite small.

But it usually isn’t small.

Often, what we are experiencing is a reminder of something that mattered deeply.

Sometimes our bodies recognize those reminders before our minds do.

The seasons change.

The tides come and go.

The holidays arrive.

A birthday comes and goes.

The smell of fresh bread fills the kitchen.

The first snowfall blankets the ground.

Before we’ve had time to think about it consciously, something within us has already remembered.

Our brains are constantly updating the story of our lives. When someone or something important is no longer there, that story doesn’t change overnight. It takes time for both the mind and the body to adjust to a new reality. 

Perhaps that is why grief can surprise us months or even years later—not because we are being pulled backwards, but because we are still learning to live with what has changed.

Perhaps there is nothing to fix.

Perhaps there is simply something to understand.

Perhaps your mind is trying to make sense of what has changed.

Perhaps your body is responding exactly as it was designed to.

Perhaps your heart is simply remembering someone or something that has shaped your life.

One of the kindest things we can do for ourselves is to stop judging those moments. Instead of asking, “Why am I still grieving?” perhaps we might gently ask, “What is this moment asking me to notice?”

Maybe it is inviting you to rest.

Maybe it is reminding you of love.

Maybe it is asking for compassion.

Or maybe it is simply acknowledging that something important has changed.

This is one of the reasons I speak so often about PAUSE.

Not because it removes grief.

Not because it promises that the waves will stop.

But because it invites us to become present with what is happening rather than fighting against it.

When we pause, we create space to notice our breath, our thoughts, and the sensations within our bodies. We become curious instead of critical. We stop asking ourselves to “get over it” and begin allowing ourselves to simply be where we are.

That small shift can be profoundly healing.

The waves may become gentler over time.

They may come farther apart.

Yet they often continue to visit us throughout our lives.

Perhaps that isn’t a sign that something is wrong.

Perhaps it is a reflection of how deeply we have loved, how significantly life has shifted, and how beautifully human it is to remember.

Moving through grief is not about making the waves disappear.

Perhaps healing isn’t about calmer seas.

Perhaps healing is discovering that we don’t have to fear the waves quite so much. We begin to trust that they will come… and they will go. And with each one, we learn a little more about ourselves.

Sometimes the most compassionate thing we can do is simply PAUSE… breathe… and let the wave pass through.

The seasons change.

The tides come and go.

The holidays arrive.

A birthday comes and goes.

The smell of fresh bread fills the kitchen.

The first snowfall blankets the ground.

Before we’ve had time to think about it consciously, something within us has already remembered.

Our brains are constantly updating the story of our lives. When someone or something important is no longer there, that story doesn’t change overnight. It takes time for both the mind and the body to adjust to a new reality. 

Perhaps that is why grief can surprise us months or even years later—not because we are being pulled backwards, but because we are still learning to live with what has changed.

Perhaps there is nothing to fix.

Perhaps there is simply something to understand.

Perhaps your mind is trying to make sense of what has changed.

Perhaps your body is responding exactly as it was designed to.

Perhaps your heart is simply remembering someone or something that has shaped your life.

One of the kindest things we can do for ourselves is to stop judging those moments. Instead of asking, “Why am I still grieving?” perhaps we might gently ask, “What is this moment asking me to notice?”

Maybe it is inviting you to rest.

Maybe it is reminding you of love.

Maybe it is asking for compassion.

Or maybe it is simply acknowledging that something important has changed.

This is one of the reasons I speak so often about PAUSE.

Not because it removes grief.

Not because it promises that the waves will stop.

But because it invites us to become present with what is happening rather than fighting against it.

When we pause, we create space to notice our breath, our thoughts, and the sensations within our bodies. We become curious instead of critical. We stop asking ourselves to “get over it” and begin allowing ourselves to simply be where we are.

That small shift can be profoundly healing.

The waves may become gentler over time.

They may come farther apart.

Yet they often continue to visit us throughout our lives.

Perhaps that isn’t a sign that something is wrong.

Perhaps it is a reflection of how deeply we have loved, how significantly life has shifted, and how beautifully human it is to remember.

Moving through grief is not about making the waves disappear.

Perhaps healing isn’t about calmer seas.

Perhaps healing is discovering that we don’t have to fear the waves quite so much. We begin to trust that they will come… and they will go. And with each one, we learn a little more about ourselves.

Sometimes the most compassionate thing we can do is simply PAUSE… breathe… and let the wave pass through.

Blessings Deirdre