by Francois Martin Hunter
Grief is everything and yet it’s often invisible. It’s more than sadness. It’s confusion, anger, emptiness, guilt, relief, loneliness, numbness all tangled up in ways that no one really prepares us for.
If you’re reading this, maybe grief has visited you too.
Maybe it’s shaking your world, or maybe it’s been there quietly for years, a weight you carry but don’t know how to put into words.
I’ve been there more times than I want to admit. And honestly? Sometimes grief feels like drowning with your eyes open gasping for air but stuck beneath waves of raw, relentless pain.
Grief breaks you. It exposes every raw nerve, every vulnerability.
And yet, it also teaches you something deep about love, loss, and the incredible strength of being human.
What is Grief, Really?
Psychology gives us frameworks to understand grief, like the famous Five Stages by Elisabeth Kübler-Ross: Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, Acceptance.
But in reality, grief is not a neat ladder to climb. It’s more like an ocean, sometimes calm, sometimes a storm that drags you under.
Grief doesn’t follow a schedule or a script. Some days you might feel okay, even hopeful, and the next day a song, a smell, or a passing thought can pull you back to the edge.
It’s your brain and body rewiring itself after a profound loss whether that’s the death of someone you loved, the end of a relationship, loss of health, identity, or a dream you held dear.
You might notice physical symptoms too: exhaustion, trouble sleeping, changes in appetite, or trouble focusing.
It’s your whole being reacting to a seismic shift.
My Own Journey Through Grief: The Ugly, the Lonely, the Real
I lost someone I loved deeply, and the shock was brutal. It felt like the air was knocked out of me, and nothing was ever going to be the same.
The days after the loss, I was numb like my feelings had gone into hiding.
But beneath that numbness was a storm of anger, guilt, and aching loneliness.
I found myself questioning everything: Why did this happen? Was there something I could have done differently?
How do I keep going when part of me feels like it’s been ripped away?
I remember sitting alone in a quiet room, the silence so loud it felt deafening. Sometimes I cried until I had no tears left.
Other times, I was paralysed by a weight so heavy I couldn’t move or think.
I also felt deeply guilty.
Guilty for laughing with friends, for sleeping well some nights, even for surviving when the person I lost wasn’t here anymore.
That guilt was crushing, like I was betraying their memory if I showed any sign of life or happiness.
Grief made me question my own strength and sometimes, it broke me in ways I didn’t expect.
But slowly, painfully, I began to learn that grief doesn’t disappear — it changes form.
It becomes part of you. And you learn to live with it, not fight it.
The Isolation of Grief — And Why It’s So Hard to Talk About
One of the hardest parts about grief is how isolating it can feel.
People want to help, but they don’t always know how. Sometimes they say things that unintentionally hurt, like “you need to move on,” or “at least they’re in a better place.”
You can feel like you’re trapped in a room full of people who can’t see you, or worse, don’t want to see your pain.
But here’s the truth: grief needs to be witnessed, not rushed or fixed. It needs space to be messy, unpredictable, and real.
Reflection Questions to Sit With
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What parts of your grief scare you the most?
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Are there feelings you hide or push away because you think they’re “wrong” or “too much”?
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How do you show kindness to yourself on the hardest days?
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Who in your life really holds space for your grief? What would you need from them if you could ask?
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Can you give yourself permission to grieve without guilt or judgement?
Healing Doesn’t Mean Forgetting
There’s a lie that healing means moving on quickly or forgetting the person or thing you lost.
Healing means finding a way to live with grief , to carry it gently, alongside the love and memories that remain.
It means making space for sorrow, but also for moments of joy, connection, and even hope.
Grief is not your enemy.
It’s the echo of love.
It’s proof that you cared deeply.
UK Support Resources for Grief
If you’re struggling and feel overwhelmed, know that help is available and you don’t have to face this alone:
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Cruse Bereavement Care — Offers free counselling and support groups across the UK.
cruse.org.uk | Helpline: 0808 808 1677 -
The Compassionate Friends — Support specifically for families who have lost a child or sibling.
tcf.org.uk | Helpline: 0345 123 2304 -
Samaritans — Available 24/7 for emotional support, including for those in grief.
samaritans.org | Helpline: 116 123 -
Mind — Mental health resources including coping with grief.
mind.org.uk -
NHS Talking Therapies — Free mental health support including counselling.
nhs.uk
A Final Thought to Hold Onto
If grief is your current reality, please hear this: You are not broken. You are not alone. Your grief is valid, messy, and important.
Allow yourself to feel. Allow yourself to be raw and real.
Be gentle. Be patient. And when you’re ready, reach out.
“Grief is not a disorder, a disease or a sign of weakness. It is an emotional, physical and spiritual necessity, the price you pay for love. The only cure for grief is to grieve.” — Earl Grollman
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