Grief is often thought of as the pain we feel after losing a loved one—but it’s more than that. Grief can come from any significant change.
A breakup.
A move.
A friendship that slowly fades.
A job you thought you’d love, but don’t.
A medical diagnosis.
Becoming a parent—or watching your kids grow up.
And when we grieve, our bodies and minds feel it deeply. It shows up as exhaustion. Brain fog. A racing mind. A short temper. A heavy chest. Lost appetite—or endless snacking. Our old routines can fall apart, and the things that once felt easy suddenly feel impossible. It’s in these moments that we need self-care the most—but it’s also when it feels hardest to reach for.
Grief often asks us to live differently. We can’t move forward with the exact same habits, patterns, or expectations we had before. Our nervous system changes. Our energy shifts. And our healing requires us to build a new kind of support system—one rooted in caring for the version of ourselves that’s here now.
But healing isn’t a linear path. It’s not a checklist. It’s not a set of quick fixes or a clear destination. It’s a process of learning how to live in a body, and a life, that may look different than before.
I was recently in a Yin session with a client who had received a medical diagnosis affecting his neuromuscular strength. He’s slowly losing function in one of his arms, something that once felt simple and reliable. As we settled into a shape, he glanced at his hand and quietly said, “I hate this hand.” Then, at the end of the session, he added, almost laughing at himself, “I know it’s silly, but I miss my hand.”
It’s not silly. It’s incredibly valid.
That hand carried groceries. Held loved ones. Gripped handlebars and opened jars and offered gestures. That hand was part of his sense of self. And losing access to it isn’t just a physical change—it’s an emotional one, too. It's a loss of autonomy, identity, and ease. That’s grief.
And grief doesn’t need to be justified. It doesn’t have to be “big” or public or dramatic to matter. Quiet losses hurt too. The ones no one sees. The ones we downplay. The ones we’re told to "be grateful through." They still live in the body. They still deserve care.
Healing isn’t about getting over it. It’s about moving through it, with honesty and compassion. It’s about noticing the tightness in your chest, the heaviness in your limbs, and asking, “What’s really going on here?” It’s about giving yourself permission to feel it all—without minimizing it or rushing it.
Sometimes healing looks like crying in the car, then going grocery shopping.
Sometimes it’s canceling plans.
Sometimes it’s laughing and then feeling guilty for laughing—because grief is confusing like that.
You don’t need to fix it. You just need to meet yourself in it.
Grief changes us. But it also reveals us—to ourselves. It shows us what we care about, what we value, what we’re made of. And if we let it, it can also show us how to care more gently for who we are now.
If you’re moving through grief—whatever form it’s taking—and you’re ready to learn how to care for yourself with more presence, more honesty, and more support, I’d be honored to work with you.
Whether it’s through movement, nutrition, breath, stillness, or conversation, we can create space for your healing without pressure to “get over it.” Just space to feel, to adapt, and to be cared for.
Reach out to connect. Let’s find what support looks like for you, right now.
