Grieve Your Way, In Your Time
You’ve probably heard it before: “Time heals all wounds.”
Yeah. About that...
Grief isn’t a to-do list item. It’s not a flat-pack IKEA dresser you can assemble in a weekend, nor a productivity goal with a neatly packaged end date. It’s a wild, tangled mess that shows up when it wants, takes what it needs, and absolutely does not check your calendar first. And here’s the thing: that’s okay.
In a culture obsessed with speed, efficiency, and “getting over it,” giving yourself permission to grieve your own way can feel radical, rebellious, even. But it’s also necessary. Healing isn’t linear. And despite what well-meaning acquaintances or that self-help podcast may imply, there’s no one right way to mourn.
There’s No Universal Timeline for Grief (No, Not Even the Five Stages)
If you’ve ever found yourself Googling “how long should grief last,” first of all: big hug. Second: let’s clear the air.
The popular “five stages of grief” model (denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance), was never meant to be a step-by-step manual. It was originally developed to describe how people cope with terminal illness, not the full scope of bereavement. Yet somehow, it morphed into a rigid checklist people expect mourners to “complete.”
Spoiler alert: grief doesn’t care about stages.
One day, you might feel like you’re ready to accept the loss. Next, you’re crying in the grocery store because you saw their favorite cereal. That doesn’t mean you’re doing it wrong. It means you’re human.
Your grief is your own. It’s shaped by your personality, relationship with the person (or pet, or place, or part of your life) you lost, your coping tools, cultural background, and so much more. Trying to cram it into a pre-approved mold only adds guilt to an already heavy experience.
The Pressure to “Move On” Is Real, and It’s Garbage
The well-intentioned but deeply unhelpful “Shouldn’t you be over it by now?” energy that hovers around people who are grieving.
We live in a society that treats emotions like they come with expiration dates. After a certain point, there’s this unspoken expectation that you should return to work, start dating again, or stop talking about your loss altogether. If you’re still crying after six months or haven’t “bounced back,” people get… uncomfortable.
But grief isn’t something you “get over.” It’s something you live with, like a scar that fades, but never vanishes completely.
You don’t owe anyone closure. You don’t need to perform your grief in ways that make others feel more at ease. You’re allowed to miss them forever. You’re allowed to keep their memory alive. And you’re definitely allowed to ignore the “move on” crowd.
Grief Can Look Like a Lot of Different Things
Despite what dramatic movie montages might suggest, grieving doesn’t always look like weeping into a tub of ice cream or dramatically yelling into the void.
Sometimes grief looks like insomnia. Or irritability. Or forgetting what day it is. Or working 14-hour days because staying busy feels safer than sitting with the pain.
Sometimes grief shows up months, or years—later, when you least expect it. Like a sucker-punch of sadness while folding laundry, or a pang of nostalgia that hits during a song you didn’t even realize reminded you of them.
Grief is sneaky like that.
And because everyone experiences it differently, there’s no “correct” way to do it. Some people want to talk about their loss all the time. Others clam up and go inward. Some want to commemorate anniversaries with rituals. Others would rather spend the day binge-watching shows under a weighted blanket. All of it is valid.
Embracing Your Grief (Without Judging It)
Here’s a revolutionary idea: What if you just let your grief be what it is?
Easier said than done, of course. But when you stop trying to fix, shrink, or speed through your grief, you give yourself space to actually heal.
Try this:
Notice what you need. Do you want solitude or connection today? Quiet or distraction? Give yourself permission to choose based on your actual feelings, not what you think you “should” do.
Find your grief anchors. Whether it’s journaling, therapy, art, prayer, movement, or talking to a friend, identify a few things that help you feel grounded when the waves hit.
Ditch the grief police. Distance yourself (emotionally or literally) from anyone who tries to shame, rush, or question your grief process.
Speak kindly to yourself. You’re not “weak” for still hurting. You’re not “failing” if you’re not over it yet. You’re just...grieving.
What About the “Good” Days?
It’s also okay to laugh again. To enjoy things. To feel moments of peace.
Sometimes when those feelings pop up, they come with a side of guilt: “Does this mean I didn’t love them enough?” Nope. It means you’re alive. It means your heart is expanding to hold both sorrow and joy. That’s what healing is.
You’re not betraying your grief by feeling better. You’re just becoming someone who carries it differently.
Grieve Loud, Grieve Quiet, Just Grieve Real
If you take one thing from this, let it be this: you are allowed to grieve in your own way, at your own pace.
Forget the timelines, the stages, the Instagram platitudes. Grief is not a performance. It’s not a pathology. It’s a natural, complicated response to loss. And it deserves your patience, your tenderness, and your trust.
So take your time. Talk about it. Write about it. Dance it out. Rage-clean your house. Stare at the ceiling. Binge “Parks and Rec.” Light a candle. Let yourself feel it.
Because the only wrong way to grieve is trying not to.