The Biggest Myth of Grief
How we must tend to personal and collective loss
We lost a dear friend, suddenly and unexpectedly, 15 days ago.
We are heart broken, still in shock and grieving.
I am fine with dropping off the face of the earth for some time - it’s part of my ethos as a Matriarchal Leader to not “push” productivity at a time like this, and especially since it’s winter and already quieter season in the business.
But I also felt there was an opportunity to share my platform to amplify another woman’s voice and medicine.
So this week I’ve invited my friend turned client Sarah Kagan to take the stage to talk about the very thing our family is navigating: grief.
I am so grateful to have wise women like Sarah in my world, and looking forward to hearing how her words here resonate with you.
Whether or not there’s a personal loss present for you right now, I think it’s safe to say the collective grief energy is high in these wildly, wild times. I hope these words feel like a balm as you read them.
Big Hugs,
Emily
The Biggest Myth of Grief
by Sarah Kagan
I was six months pregnant when my mom died.
As a second time mom, by the six month mark I had passed the “ bloat or a bump” stage and was well into the unsolicited comments about my body phase.
I had spent my first two trimesters walking my mom through the last months of her life, and would spend my last trimester walking my first months without her.
But at her funeral and shiva, no one wanted to talk about the weight of entering into motherhood having just lost my mother.
They wanted to talk about how joyous a new baby would be. How I needed to care for my body not for myself, but for my unborn child.
“I’m sorry for your loss. When are you due?!” | “I’m sorry your mom won’t meet the baby. Is it a boy or girl? Do you have a name picked out?” | “Your mom will be missed. Is Simon excited to be a big brother!?”
Every conversation seemed to follow the same formula:
Them: Statement about grief.
The message I received: This is not an invitation to share deep feelings and hard truths. Say thank you and smile.
Them: Question about literally anything else.
The message I received: Ah now this is a topic we’re allowed to talk about. Share something that will make them feel comfortable. Don’t feed the hard feelings.
The message was unintentional but clear: avoid grief and focus on joy.
So that’s exactly what I did.
I worked on the biggest project of my career in the three months between the funeral and maternity leave.
I went to the gym almost daily.
I crocheted my son a baby blanket.
I even took a nutrition coaching course.
Basically I was doing everything I could to not just keep my head above water, but to look like I wasn’t even swimming in the ocean.
I was determined to avoid the depths I thought grief would take me if I let it.
But around the one year anniversary of my mom’s passing, the grief that had been patiently gnawing at me finally started to growl.
I was having a meltdown a week. But what I started to notice was just like the conversations at the funeral, my meltdowns followed a specific formula too:
They started as one thing: This thing happened at work or my back hurts or Simon is having a tantrum
And ended up: I miss my mom.
The myth of grief is that the more we ignore it the better we will feel.
But grief, like hunger, needs to be fed.
The hungrier you are, the louder your stomach will rumble. The more you avoid feeling your grief, the bigger it grows.
Nourishing grief is the difference between grazing all day and sitting down to a real meal. It’s about satisfying the human needs instead of the cultural push to avoid things that feel hard or scary.
But when you’re used to starving a feeling, feeding it feels overwhelming.
There are so many seemingly good or bad choices. There’s the lingering fear of indulging “too much.”
But what I learned through my own journey is that there is no such thing as “too much.”
Just like babies have a natural ability to know when they’ve had enough milk, your body & spirit will tell you what it needs for your grief to feel nourished. But you have to listen. You have to be willing to follow your own cues without judgement.
When I started listening to my own grief hunger, I was surprised by what I found:
My heart wanted to create.
I kept swirling around the tension of how to channel all the love energy I wanted to be able to send to my mom. I felt like I needed somewhere for it to physically go. So I started using my hands.
I started sewing, collaging, drawing, and just crafting. I let creativity guide me through the feelings that are too hard to put into words. Society will sometimes tell you that art and play are indulgent. But creativity and making something tangible is soul level nourishing.
My body wanted to move.
I’ve always had a strong physical practice. But when I started letting my grief come into my movement, I was amazed at the way my performance, motivation, and body changed.
Getting physically stronger allowed me to quantify the ways I knew I was getting stronger mentally. It gave my effort purpose, while actually forcing me to replenish my body in supportive ways.
My soul wanted to be seen.
The weight of invisibility is heavier than you think. We spend enormous energy trying to be seen for what we think people want to see. In the world of grief, that’s someone who is “brave” and “strong.” Someone who is holding it all together. But just like dieting, forcing yourself to be seen for something you aren’t will, eventually, backfire.
Grief doesn’t respond to performance. It responds to nourishment.
When I finally started nourishing my grief, everything in my life shifted.
I felt more connected to my kids.
I quit my job and started building a company that fills me with fire.
I found new hobbies, and reconnected to parts of myself I haven’t seen in a decade and more.
I got stronger in my body, in my voice, and in my ability to hold grief & joy at the same time.
Grief isn’t “too much” by nature.
Expressing your grief fully isn’t indulgence.
It’s a necessary rebellion.
It’s nourishment.
4 Simple Ways To Nourish Your Grief
When I finally started nourishing my grief, everything in my life shifted.
Here are four simple ways you can nourish your personal or collective grief right now:
1 - Get in your body — Move slowly & deliberately or big & vigorous. Dance. Walk. Move the energy of grief around so that can create more space for newness.
2 - Create — Take your foot off the gas and play. Paint, sew, bake, journal, draw. Let creativity guide you through the feelings that are too hard to put into words.
3 - Express — Say the hard things out loud. Free them from your mind & your body and give yourself the gift of more space.
4 - Connect — Build community around others who know what it’s like to grieve. Let yourself been seen and supported.
Which one of these resonates most with you right now? How are you currently nourishing your grief?
The Little Toolbook for Big Grief - A Practical & Creative Grief Journal
After my mom passed away, I realized that knowing about coping tools and being able to access them are two very different things.
I created this book to close that gap.
It’s so much more than just journal prompts.
Instead of spending your limited energy searching for the “right” coping tool to make you feel 1% better, this book has everything in one place. Inside, you’ll find writing prompts, coloring pages, puzzles, movement practices, and more; all designed to support grief in small, human ways.
This journal is for anyone navigating loss, especially the messy middle that exists between the funeral and the rest of your life.
When you (or a loved one who recently experienced loss) don’t know what you need, this book is here to hold the tools for you. One small step at a time.
📕 You can order your copy here
More About Sarah
Sarah didn’t set out to become a grief coach (does anyone?).
She’s always been a deep feeler, someone in search of connection and meaning, often absorbing more than she wanted to and feeling more than she thought she should. She tried making meaning through yoga trainings, holistic health coaching, and nutrition certifications, but nothing felt like the thing she was meant for.
Then her mom got sick.
Sarah tried to contain it. She went back to work, checked the boxes, told herself she could manage it. But when her mom passed away, she started to feel like she was falling apart. Turns out grief doesn’t stay quiet for long.
A year and a half later, she couldn’t ignore what she was feeling. Everything felt disconnected, and she couldn’t fit herself back into a life that had no room for who she had become. So she left her job to pursue a life more aligned with who she was becoming.
From there, everything shifted. Sarah began asking new questions:
How do I want to spend my time?
What relationships do I want to invest in?
What does it mean to live with loss as part of my life?
Leaning into grief changed her life. It gave her a way to channel her sensitivity into service and to use honesty as a starting point for healing.
Connect With Sarah:
 | A guest post by
|
Wow. Beautiful. Deepest condolences on your loss. And gratitude for sharing this helpful insight. Namaste, R