Grief doesn’t knock politely or quietly. It doesn’t ask if now is a good time.

It comes in waves, like you've just been whacked in the face with a cricket bat. It's sudden, heavy, and often without warning. One minute you’re functioning fine, the next minute your chest tightens, your throat closes, and you’re fighting tears in the middle of getting ready for work. A song might bring it on. A smell. A thought that slips into your mind through the back door.

I've become super aware of my emotions lately and recognising that sometimes, (a lot of the time), my grief comes to the surface as anger first. I start getting really snappy with my loved ones. I get irritable and find it hard to be in my own body. I meditate, I breathe, I do the yoga....but sometimes, what needs to come up to the surface can't. Like there's a part of me that's blocking it. So, I head to the garage. I write up a long workout to suffer through. Not in a punish myself kind of way, but as a way for the emotion to rise to the surface to allow me to feel into the root cause of my anger.

Then it happens. The breakdown, which now I like to call the breakthrough. When the workout is finished I lay on the floor and cry. The anger finally turns into sadness and I'm able to feel it deeply. I'm able to let the tears regulate my nervous system and soften into the pain.

That moment within the workout my whole being decides that it is now safe to let go. I break through the walls. The walls I have built to protect myself from falling apart. I finally tap into my vulnerability, the part of me I've spent so long suppressing because the world has told me it's weak to be vulnerable. The world has told me that I needed to toughen up and get on with it. When traumatic things would happen, I'd tell myself, "You'll be right, It's weak to fall apart, there's people out there worse off than me", so I'd do my best to get on with life and Soldier on. 

But the thing is, no matter what, we all feel the same emotions. We all have different life circumstances that have caused us to feel those negative emotions. If we don't acknowledge how we're feeling and process those emotions in a positive and healthy way, they get stored in our bodies causing dis-harmony or dis-ease in the body. 

When grief hits you can’t control it. And trying to control it only makes it hit harder and gets in the way of your healing journey. 

Grief needs to rise. It needs to be felt. It needs space to move through you. Sometimes it feels like a tsunami, all-consuming, knocking you off your feet, leaving you gasping. Other times it’s a quieter swell, still there, still present, but not drowning you.

And eventually, slowly, you start to breathe again.

The waves don’t disappear completely, but they change. They get lower. Smaller. More predictable. The ocean begins to settle. The surface smooths out, even if the depth is still vast.

Some days, grief looks like reapplying your makeup for the fourth time just to make it out the door.
Some days, it feels like everything is too much, the weight of living, the effort of existing, the expectation to keep going as if nothing has shifted inside you.

On those days, you don’t think about the future. You don’t think about healing. You start with the smallest things. You remember what you still have. You find one thing, then another, that you’re grateful for. Even if it does feel small, It's still making a difference. Even if it feels forced at first. From there, you take one small step. You get dressed. You get in the car. You show up, imperfect, tender and vulnerable.

You add small things into your day that help you feel just a little more human. You eat food that nourishes you. You move your body to allow the emotions to rise to the surface and move through you. You create daily rituals like lighting a candle, breathing in some essential oils and meditating. Emotions are just energy in motion, E= Motion. You move, you breathe in deep, and breathe out slowly. You remind your nervous system you are safe in this moment.

You sit. You meditate. You connect to spirit, however that looks for you. You remind yourself, again and again, that you are not alone. That spirit has your back, even when your heart feels shattered. Especially then!

Grief isn’t something to conquer or rush through. It’s something you learn to live alongside. And some days, living alongside it means doing the bare minimum, and letting that be enough. Because even in grief, even in the middle of the storm, you are still here. Still breathing. Still moving forward, one small step at a time.

Connect daily to the unwavering inner stillness that lives within you. You've just gotta work out what YOU need to do to get to that place. Whether it's sitting outside in nature and connecting with your breath, walking, going for a run, creating a gritty workout to move through....whatever you're called to do. Don't rely on motivation either, because it won't be there. You are not going to feel like doing anything, but you have to. 

Take small steps daily, and day by day you'll find find your strength.

Loads of love,

Charlie xo