Navigating Grief: Embracing the Process

Losing my husband felt like the world as I knew it had ended. One moment, I was sharing life with my best friend, and the next, I was navigating a reality that felt impossibly empty. Grief became an unwelcome companion, showing up in the quiet and loud moments, in the spaces we once filled together. The loneliness was deafening. Sadness and confusion crept into every corner of my life, leaving me unsure of how to move forward.

Those early days were a blur of pain and exhaustion. The simplest tasks—getting out of bed, eating, and even breathing—felt monumental. I couldn’t imagine a time when the weight of grief would ease, even slightly. But over time, I began to understand something important: grief is not a straight road. It’s not something you “get over.” Instead, it’s a winding, unpredictable journey unique to each of us.

Some days, I cried until nothing was left, only to find myself smiling at an old memory the next day. The ups and downs were confusing at first. Was it okay to laugh? Did feeling a moment of happiness mean I was forgetting him? These questions haunted me until I realised that all these emotions—joy, sorrow, anger, even guilt—were part of the process. They didn’t cancel each other out; they coexisted, shaping my path forward.

Grief isn’t a one-size-fits-all experience, and there’s no right or wrong way to navigate it. Learning to honour my feelings, whatever they were, became an act of self-compassion. I began to let go of the pressure to grieve a certain way or to meet anyone else’s expectations. This was my journey, and I had to walk it in my own time.

Tools for Healing: Finding Hope and Strength

As time went on, I realised I couldn’t carry the weight of grief alone. That’s when I joined a membership of wdows online called Remember and later completed a 12-month programme called Finding Hope in Widowhood. Walking into that space for the first time was both terrifying and comforting. I didn’t know if I was ready to share my story, but what I found there was a lifeline. The people in that room didn’t just hear my pain—they understood it. Together, we shared our stories, learned new ways to cope, and found strength in one another. It was the first time I felt less alone in my grief.

In addition to the programme, I started exploring other tools for healing. Meditation became a powerful way to create moments of calm amidst the chaos in my mind. At first, sitting in silence was hard—I didn’t want to face the whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. But with practice, meditation became a safe space to observe my feelings without judgment.

Yoga was another unexpected gift. Moving my body helped me release emotions I didn’t know I was holding onto. Some days, I’d cry during a simple stretch, realising how much tension grief had locked inside me. Over time, yoga became more than just exercise—it was a way to reconnect with myself, to feel strong and present in a world that often felt uncertain.

I discovered Nidra yoga through Orla Blackburn, a fellow widow who shares her journey with grace and wisdom. On those Sunday evenings when I could muster the energy, her guided practices became a source of comfort and calm. Often, I’d find myself drifting off to sleep during the sessions—a testament to how deeply restorative they were. If you’re battling anxiety or insomnia, I wholeheartedly recommend exploring Nidra yoga or connecting with Orla online. Her approach is gentle, grounding, and deeply healing.

I was also incredibly fortunate to be part of a wonderful group of kind-hearted souls in my village who practised yoga three times a week. We gathered in the cosy home of one of these beautiful humans, and those sessions became a sanctuary for me. Each practice ended not just with a cup of tea but with what felt like an impromptu therapy session. The connection, the laughter, and the shared understanding within that group were nothing short of a lifeline during some of my darkest days.

And then there was breathwork. It seems such a simple thing—just breathing deeply and intentionally—but it became a lifeline during moments when grief felt overwhelming. Each breath reminded me that I was still alive, still moving forward, even on the most challenging days.

These practices didn’t take away the pain, but they gave me tools to navigate it. They became small acts of self-love, helping me find moments of peace and strength when I needed them most.

During moments of deep anxiety, I practice the 4-4-4 box breathing technique, which I still use, though much less as time goes on. This breathing technique would magically calm my palpitations and slow my breath.

Transforming Pain into Purpose: Creating a New Life

After my husband’s death, I spent months just surviving. I didn’t know who I was without him or what my life was supposed to look like now. Every dream we’d shared, every plan we’d made felt like it had vanished. I didn’t just lose him; I lost the future we had imagined together.

But slowly, something began to shift. I started asking myself what he would want for me. He wouldn’t want me to stay stuck in the pain forever. He would like me to find a way to keep living, to find meaning in the life I still had.

That’s when the idea of creating something for others took root. I realised that my grief, as painful as it was, had taught me so much—about love, resilience, and the strength we find in the face of loss. I decided to channel that pain into something purposeful. I began creating resources to help others navigate their grief, sharing my story and the lessons I’d learned along the way.

Starting this work wasn’t easy. It required me to revisit my darkest moments, to relive the pain so I could offer support to others. But it also gave me something I hadn’t felt in a long time: hope. Knowing that my experiences could help someone else feel less alone made the journey worthwhile.

This new purpose doesn’t replace the life I lost, but it gives me a way to honour my husband’s memory and the love we shared. It’s a way to keep moving forward, not just for myself but for others who are walking their paths through grief.

Community and Connection: Supporting Each Other Through Loss

If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that grief can feel isolating—but it doesn’t have to be. Finding a community of people who genuinely understand what you’re going through is one of the most healing things you can do.

For me, that community came in many forms. Support groups, both in-person and online, became spaces where I could share my story and hear the stories of others. There’s something so powerful about being in a room (virtual or physical) where everyone gets it. You don’t have to explain yourself or worry about being judged. You can be.

Within these communities, I found connection, understanding, and even moments of laughter. I learned that grief isn’t something you have to face alone. Sharing your story, listening to others, and offering support can create incredibly healing bonds.

If you’re grieving, I encourage you to seek out a community. Whether it’s a local support group, an online forum, or even a close friend willing to listen, connection can make all the difference. Finding people who do can be a lifeline in a world that often doesn’t know how to talk about grief.

Grief has taught me that healing isn’t about forgetting or moving on—it’s about finding a way to carry the love and memories with you as you move forward. It’s a journey, and it’s one we don’t have to take alone. Together, we can find hope, strength, and even moments of joy during loss.