Grief isn't a problem to be solved. Honestly, we’ve spent decades treating emotional pain like a broken leg—something you set, cast, and wait to "fix" so you can get back to your "normal" life. But that’s not how the human heart works. When you’re staring at the wreckage of a life you didn’t ask for, being told to "look on the bright side" feels less like encouragement and more like a slap in the face.
It’s exhausting.
The pressure to perform happiness is everywhere. Social media feeds are clogged with "good vibes only" mantras that suggest if you just meditated a little longer or bought a different journal, you’d stop hurting. It's a lie. Real life is messy, and it’s okay that you’re not okay right now. Sometimes, the most radical thing you can do is admit that things suck and you don't know when they’ll get better.
The Myth of the Five Stages
We need to talk about Elisabeth Kübler-Ross. Most people know her "Five Stages of Grief"—denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. What most people don't know is that she never intended for these to be a linear checklist for the bereaved. These stages were originally observed in people who were themselves terminally ill, facing their own deaths.
They weren't meant to be a map for you to follow after losing a spouse, a job, or your health.
When we try to force ourselves through these stages, we create a secondary layer of suffering. You feel guilty because you’re "still" in the anger phase, or you feel like a failure because you thought you reached acceptance but woke up today feeling total despair. That’s not a failure of character. It’s just the tide.
Grief is more like an ocean than a staircase. You don't climb out of it; you learn to swim in it. Sometimes the water is calm. Other times, a rogue wave hits you on a random Tuesday because you saw a specific brand of peanut butter at the grocery store. That’s the reality. Megan Devine, a therapist who wrote extensively on this after the sudden death of her partner, argues that the goal isn't to "get over" it, but to find a way to carry it.
Why We Try to "Fix" Each Other
Why do people say such stupid things when you’re hurting?
✨ Don't miss: Ankle Stretches for Runners: What Most People Get Wrong About Mobility
"At least they’re in a better place."
"Everything happens for a reason."
"You’re so strong; I don't know how you do it."
Usually, they aren't trying to be cruel. They’re scared. Your pain reminds them that the world is unpredictable and that they could lose everything too. If they can "fix" you with a platitude, they can reassure themselves that life is controllable. It’s a defense mechanism. But for the person in the middle of the fire, these comments are isolating. They signal that the people around you can't handle your reality.
True support doesn't look like advice. It looks like sitting in the dark with someone and not trying to turn the lights on before they’re ready. It’s acknowledging that it’s okay that you’re not okay and that your pain is a natural response to a difficult situation.
The Physical Toll of Suppressing Pain
We often treat emotional health as something existing entirely in our heads. Science says otherwise. Dr. Bessel van der Kolk, author of The Body Keeps the Score, has spent years documenting how trauma and extreme stress reshape the brain and the physical body. When we suppress our "not okay-ness" to make others comfortable, our bodies pay the price.
Chronic stress from repressed emotions can lead to:
- A hyperactive amygdala (staying in "fight or flight" mode)
- Increased cortisol levels that disrupt sleep and digestion
- Weakened immune response
- Physical tension, particularly in the jaw, neck, and shoulders
Trying to be "fine" when you aren't is physically taxing. It requires an immense amount of metabolic energy to keep a lid on grief or anxiety. This is why you feel so tired. You aren't "lazy"—you are running a marathon inside your nervous system every single day just to maintain a neutral face.
Comparison Is the Thief of Healing
There’s this weird hierarchy of suffering we’ve created. You might think, "I shouldn't be this upset about a breakup when people are losing their homes."
🔗 Read more: Can DayQuil Be Taken At Night: What Happens If You Skip NyQuil
Stop.
Your nervous system doesn't rank pain against global statistics. It only knows that it hurts. Dismissing your own pain because "others have it worse" is like refusing to treat a broken arm because someone else has two broken arms. It doesn’t help them, and it definitely doesn't help you.
Validation is the first step toward integration. Integration is different from "healing" in the traditional sense. It’s the process of weaving the loss or the trauma into your life story so that it becomes a part of you, rather than a monster you’re constantly trying to outrun.
Moving Toward Actionable Self-Compassion
So, what do you actually do when you’re in the thick of it? It’s not about "fixing" the situation, but about survival and management.
Lower the Bar. If all you did today was breathe and eat a piece of toast, that is enough. In periods of intense emotional upheaval, your executive function takes a hit. Don't expect yourself to be as productive as you were before the crisis.
Audit Your Circle. You don't owe everyone an explanation of your pain. If certain people make you feel like you have to "perform" wellness, it’s okay to take a break from them. Seek out the "witnesses"—the people who can sit with you without offering unsolicited advice.
Externalize the Pain. Get it out of your body. This doesn't have to be a masterpiece. Scribble on a piece of paper, scream in your car, or walk until your legs ache. The goal is to give the energy somewhere to go.
💡 You might also like: Nuts Are Keto Friendly (Usually), But These 3 Mistakes Will Kick You Out Of Ketosis
Practice Radical Honesty. When someone asks how you are, and you have the energy, try saying: "Honestly, I’m having a really hard time right now." You’ll be surprised how often this gives the other person permission to drop their own mask.
Focus on "Next Five Minutes." Looking at the next year, or even the next month, is paralyzing. When the overwhelm hits, shrink your world. What do you need to do in the next five minutes? Drink water? Move to a different chair? Just that.
The Reality of Living with "Not Okay"
There is no finish line. You don’t wake up one day and realize you’ve officially "recovered" and will never feel the weight again. Instead, the weight stays the same, but you get stronger. You build a life around the hole that was left behind.
Society wants you to move on because your grief is inconvenient. It disrupts the narrative that everything is always getting better. But your timeline is the only one that matters. Whether it's been three weeks or three years, your feelings are a valid response to your experience.
The most important thing to remember is that you are not broken. You are a human being responding to a difficult world with a heart that is capable of feeling deeply. That’s not a pathology; it’s a testament to your humanity.
Accepting that it’s okay that you’re not okay is the first step toward a version of peace that doesn't require you to lie to yourself. It’s a quiet, heavy peace, but it’s real. And real is always better than performative.
Immediate Steps for Coping
- Acknowledge the physical sensation: Instead of labeling the emotion, find where it lives in your body. Is it a tightness in your chest or a knot in your stomach? Just notice it without trying to change it.
- Limit "Comparison Scrolling": If looking at other people's curated lives makes you feel worse, delete the apps for 48 hours. Your brain needs a break from the "happiness" competition.
- Identify one "Safe" Person: Decide who in your life is allowed to see the unpolished version of your day. Reach out to them, not for advice, but just to be seen.
- Prioritize Basic Needs: When the mind is in chaos, the body needs routine. Aim for consistent sleep and hydration, even if everything else feels out of control.