Living With Grief: Coping When It Feels Overwhelming
Mindfulness and self-compassion after loss
Grief can warp time.
It can turn an ordinary Tuesday into a portal back to the past. You catch a familiar scent, hear a song in a grocery store aisle, see someone with the same posture as the person you lost, and suddenly you are not here anymore. You are back there.
Back in what was.
And sometimes grief does the opposite. It pulls you forward, into the future you never wanted. The future you did not choose. The future that feels too quiet, too empty, too uncertain.
That is one of the cruelest parts of grief. It does not just break your heart. It steals your sense of time. It makes it hard to stay in the present moment, even though it is the only place life is actually happening.
Mindfulness is often offered as a solution. People say it like it is simple: Stay present. Breathe. Be mindful.
But when you are grieving, staying present can feel like the last thing you want to do.
The present moment is not always peaceful
There is a misconception about mindfulness that I want to name right away.
Mindfulness is not the absence of pain.
It is not inner peace.
It is not a perfectly quiet mind.
It is not a religious practice and doesn’t require sitting and meditating.
Mindfulness is simply the practice of noticing what is here, without turning away.
In grief, what is here might include:
a tight throat
an ache in the chest
a wave of nausea
the heaviness that makes it hard to get dressed
the sudden tears that arrive out of nowhere
This is not mindfulness failure. This is mindfulness.
Mindfulness in grief is not about transcending your experience. It is about becoming willing to be with it, one moment at a time.
Grief keeps trying to take us out of the moment
Grief can send your mind to two places again and again: the past and the future.
The past shows up as longing, memory, regret.
The mind goes there effortlessly.
If only I had said more.
If only I had known.
If only I had one more day.
The future shows up as fear.
What if I never feel okay again?
What will my life look like now?
How do I do this without them?
Sometimes it feels like grief has two hands. One pulling you backward, one pulling you forward. And in the middle, there is the present moment, where you are trying to breathe and function and make dinner and send emails and pay bills. Where you are trying to live a life that no longer resembles the one you had.
When people say “stay present,” this is what they mean. But they rarely acknowledge how hard it is.
Staying with the present moment is so difficult when it is filled with absence.
A different way to think about mindfulness
Mindfulness is often taught like a skill. And it is. But in grief, mindfulness is also something else.
It can be companionship or a form of self-soothing.
Even if you can only be present for a few seconds at a time.
Especially then.
Mindfulness in grief begins with an honest statement:
This is grief. This hurts.
Not “this is okay.”
Not “everything happens for a reason.”
Not “I should be grateful.”
Just: “This is grief. This hurts.”
If it feels right, add kind self-compassion: Place your hand over your heart or where it hurts most. Send warmth and kindness through your hand and repeat: This is grief. This hurts.
Acceptance is not approval
Acceptance isn’t a stage where you suddenly become okay with your loss.
Acceptance is acknowledging that grief is here. It is allowing the emotions that come up, and accommodating or making room for these emotions to just be.
There is a difference between pain and suffering.
Grief is pain. The loss is real. The longing is real. The absence is real.
But suffering often increases when we fight reality. When we tell ourselves:
I shouldn’t feel this way.
If only I had done xyz.
I need to stop crying.
I should be “over it” by now.
Something is wrong with me.
There is so much suffering in those thoughts. And they often come from the desire to survive. We want to stop hurting. We want relief. We want control.
But grief does not respond well to force.
This is where acceptance comes in.
Acceptance does not mean liking what happened. It does not mean agreeing with it. It does not mean it was meant to be.
Acceptance means allowing reality to be real.
It sounds like:
This is what happened.
I hate that this happened.
I will carry sadness for a long time.
It is the place where your nervous system can soften, even slightly. It is the place where you stop bracing. Where you stop tightening your fists against what cannot be changed.
Acceptance is not giving up.
It is letting go of the exhausting fight with what already exists.
The present moment is wide enough to hold more than grief
When grief is intense, it can feel like it consumes everything. It fills the room. It feels like it takes up all the oxygen.
But one of the quiet gifts of mindfulness is that it helps you notice something surprising:
Every moment can hold more than one thing. More than one thing can be true. Find the “and”.
The present moment might contain sorrow.
And also the beauty of the trees in the sunshine.
The present moment might contain loneliness.
And also the sound of a friend’s voice.
The present moment might contain grief.
And also the compassion of those who show up.
Mindfulness does not make grief smaller.
It makes life larger.
Not in a forced or artificial way. In a true way. A grief-honoring way.
A tiny practice for returning to the present
When people are grieving, I often offer a practice that takes less than a minute.
Not because the minute fixes anything.
But because it reminds the body: You are here.
Try this:
If it feels okay, place a hand on your chest or belly.
Take one slow breath in.
Take one slow breath out.
Name three truths:
One sensation: tightness, heaviness, warmth, numbness
One emotion: sadness, anger, fear, relief, longing
One anchor: a photo, my toes, sunlight, birds, my breath
That is it.
It is not performative. It is not spiritual. It is simply an act of care.
Perspective-taking: I am not my thoughts
Our minds generate thoughts constantly. Just because your mind thinks something doesn’t make it true.
Grief produces intense thoughts. Sometimes harsh ones. Sometimes terrifying ones. Sometimes thoughts that arrive like pronouncements. In grief, the mind often speaks in absolutes.
I will never be okay again.
I cannot do this.
My life is ruined.
I am alone.
Here I offer a gentle practice: perspective taking.
Instead of arguing with the thought, you step back from it.
You learn to say:
I am noticing the thought that I cannot do this.
Or:
I’m noticing that my mind is telling me a very painful story right now.
This is not denial. It is recognition.
It creates space between you and the thought, just enough space to breathe.
Just enough space to remember: a thought is not a fact. A feeling is not a prophecy.
Grief makes the future feel permanent.
Mindfulness reminds you: this is a moment in time, not forever.
Grief doesn’t go away
Sometimes people come to coaching and to mindfulness hoping it will get rid of the grief.
I understand that longing.
But mindfulness is not a cure for grief.
It is a way of staying connected to yourself while you grieve.
It is your anchor.
A way of not disappearing.
A way of not being swept away entirely by the storm.
Coping with grief does not mean suppressing it
It means learning how to carry it without losing yourself.
And it does something else, too. Something important.
It helps you live in alignment with what matters, even in pain.
That is another core idea important in navigating grief: values.
Values are not goals. They are directions. They answer a question like:
What kind of person do I want to be in the middle of this?
Even in heartbreak, you can choose values like:
honesty
courage
care
presence
connection
Values do not erase grief.
But they offer a way forward that does not require you to betray your pain.
A final thought
If you are grieving, staying present can feel like walking barefoot across broken glass.
So I want to offer this with care:
You do not have to be mindful all day.
You do not have to meditate for 20 minutes.
You do not have to “do it right.”
You can take one mindful breath.
One moment.
And if that is all you can do today, it is enough.
Grief changes us. But mindfulness can help you cope with grief without losing yourself, even as everything changes.
Not by forcing healing. but by gently, faithfully, coming back to the present moment again and again.
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Grief support is available.
You don’t have to navigate loss alone. If you’re feeling stuck, overwhelmed, or simply tired of carrying grief by yourself, grief coaching can help you build steadiness, self-compassion, and a way forward that honors what you’ve lost.
You can find out more:
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