What Is Grief and Why Do We Experience It?

Grief is the painful emotional response we feel when a loved one dies. To navigate it, we must somehow accept a reality we desperately want to reject.

Neurobiologically, grief is a form of learning. And learning takes time and experience. Our brains have spent years engraining our loved ones into their structures. But the bond doesn't update the moment they die.

One part of our brain knows they're gone. Another part keeps expecting them to walk through the door. There's a battle between our head and our heart — our head knows what happened, but our heart refuses to accept it.

This is why we often find ourselves reaching for our phone to text them. Looking for them in the street. Expecting to hear their key in the door.

The paradox of grief is that finding a way to live with the pain is what enables us to heal.

We oscillate between the pain of loss and our instinct to survive — between sadness, tears, and yearning, and present-day tasks, functioning, and having hope for the future. Every time we allow ourselves to feel that pain, our brain incrementally heals.

How Grief Impacts Us

Grief doesn't just live in our minds — it lives in our bodies.

You might feel exhausted no matter how much you sleep. Food loses its taste, or you forget to eat altogether. Headaches, aches, a heaviness in your chest. Your body is grieving too.

Emotionally, the sadness can feel relentless. Sometimes it crashes over you out of nowhere; sometimes it's a constant low hum in the background. You might lie awake at 3am unable to switch off, or feel a simmering anger you can't explain. Anxiety, a sense that the world is no longer safe. Depression that makes even getting out of bed feel impossible.

And it's not just one thing. You might feel sad and angry and anxious all in the same day — or the same hour. These aren't signs you're falling apart. They're signs you're human, and you loved someone deeply.

Mentally, we can get lost in thought loops. The "what ifs" and "if onlys" that circle on repeat. Replaying that last conversation. Wondering if you could have done something differently. Struggling to accept that this is real. Guilt that creeps in, even when you know, logically, you did nothing wrong.

These loops are exhausting and incredibly difficult to stop. You might find yourself withdrawing, going numb, avoiding reminders of them — or feeling like life has lost its meaning without them.

You're not going mad. Your mind is trying to make sense of the senseless.

Why We Need Support Now, More Than Ever

57% of people are grieving someone close to them from the last three years. That's every other person you pass on the street. And yet so few of us talk about it openly.

Part of the reason is that the support systems we used to have quietly disappeared — and we haven't replaced them with anything.

For most of human history, cultures created rituals that gave people permission to grieve fully. These weren't just ceremonies — they were structures that held people through their pain.

In Victorian Britain, widows wore black for two years. There was no commentary about "grieving for too long." In traditional Vietnamese culture, mourning lasts two years. In Jewish tradition, those mourning a parent observe a full year, supported by their community — the first seven days, the community comes to you. You don't grieve alone.

In Egypt, tearfully grieving after seven years would still be seen as healthy and normal. In the West, this might be considered a disorder.

What all these traditions share: grief was visible, communal, and expected to take time. Nobody told you to "move on."

Today, most of those structures have vanished. Families are scattered. We don't know our neighbours. And we have endless ways to numb ourselves — work, screens, busyness.

But grief doesn't go away because we ignore it.

What Helps (and What Doesn't)

Most people don't know what to say. In their discomfort, they often reach for platitudes.

What doesn't help:

At least they're not suffering anymore.

Everything happens for a reason.

You need to move on.

Telling someone to "stay strong." Comparing their loss to others who "had it worse." Giving unsolicited advice on how to grieve. Disappearing because you don't know what to say.

These words usually come from a well-meaning place, but they can leave someone feeling unseen, unheard, or like their grief is a problem to be fixed.

What does help:

Be present — sit with them without trying to fix it. Say their loved one's name. Share a memory. Acknowledge that this is devastating. Check in weeks and months later — not just at the funeral. Let them talk, cry, or not talk at all.

Help them know they're not alone, even when it feels like they are.

How the Pain Can Change Us

While we would do anything not to feel this pain — anything to have our loved one back — going through this pain often unintentionally leads to growth.

It might not feel like it now. But research shows that many of us, in time, find something unexpected on the other side of grief. A deeper appreciation for life. Greater empathy for others. Stronger relationships with the people still here. A sense of purpose we didn't have before.

We don't "get over" our loss — but slowly, gently, we grow around it.

If You Would Like More Support

The Grief Works Programme is designed to help you understand what you're going through and give you tools to navigate it — at your own pace, with compassion.

Session 4: Tuning Into Your Emotions helps you recognise and name the confusing mix of feelings that grief brings.

Session 5: Soothing Fear addresses the anxiety and loss of safety that so often accompanies loss.

Session 9: Working Through Guilt guides you through the "what ifs" and "if onlys" with practices for self-compassion.

Session 12: Love and Support reminds you that you don't have to do this alone — and helps you find ways to ask for what you need.

You're not going mad. You're grieving. And there is support for this.