Daily: Guiding yourself toward healing

Recently, I spoke to a group mourning the loss of a dear friend. They wanted to know what their grief would “look like.” I shared the truth: Grief presents differently in each of us and on its timeline.  

At 24, I experienced this firsthand when my oldest brother, Rod, died by suicide. I was the first to receive the news in a graphic phone call from the person who found him. My nervous system was overwhelmed, but I instinctively went into overdrive, focused on breaking the devastating news to my parents. I calmly made the calls and sat with them in their bedroom as their world shattered. I held back my feelings, so I could show up for them, and that moment changed me forever.  

Initially, my grief was unhealthy. I masked my pain, hid behind faith, and tried to assure everyone, including myself, that things would be okay. Every morning, I awoke carrying with me the growing fear of my parents’ grief. Still, I managed to put a smile on my face because I was determined to be the happy one. I worked excessively, stayed busy, and ignored the hollowed-out emptiness inside me. Rage and numbness alternated, leaving me unable to concentrate or truly engage with life.

It wasn’t until I hit a breaking point and began seeing a counselor that I started to process my pain. Slowly, I learned to take off the mask and let my grief guide me toward healing.  

Today, when I hear about a loss, my first instinct is still to set aside my emotions and be present for others. But now, I know the importance of revisiting those feelings later. When I’m ready, I pick up my grief, allow myself to cry or scream, and care for my emotions through movement, yoga, or time in nature. By tending to my grief, I can continue showing up for others while honoring my own needs.  

When tragedy strikes our small valley, the natural response is often to seek answers or piece together what happened. But it’s just as important to hold space for our emotions and extend compassion to those most affected. Even if we didn’t know the person, their death may trigger feelings from our past. Slowing down, sending love, and resisting the urge to spread rumors or misinformation are simple ways to support grieving families with kindness and respect.  

Grief demands to be felt — it’s impossible to escape. It’s like a cork submerged in water: the harder we push it down, the more forcefully it will resurface. Ignoring grief may work temporarily, but those suppressed emotions will eventually erupt. The longer we avoid them, the more intense the release can be. I learned this the hard way when my grief finally surfaced explosively. 

There are no shortcuts through grief. Clients I work with often describe grief as walking through fire — a painful but necessary journey to find peace. While no one wishes for loss, we have choices in how we process the pain. We can turn inward and grow bitter, and honestly, there can be no judgment around that because sometimes this is a necessary part of the grief process. But, when ready, taking small steps toward love and growth is essential.  

The unhealthy ways I initially grieved my brother’s death ultimately led me to an incredible counselor who changed my life. As I began releasing my fears and pain, the overwhelming pressure eased, and my nervous system found a sense of balance. Speaking my emotions aloud in counseling taught me that I could sit with the heaviness and still move toward healing. And it was because of this that I discovered my calling to help others navigate their grief. I learned that I could hold the powerful emotions of loss while finding ways to love, honor, and remember Rod. I realized I had a gift for being present with others during their most challenging moments. 

Now, I strive to hold space for others in their grief, helping them find their paths to healing and remembrance. This is the gift that Rod gave me. When a client enters my office, I know he is there with me — his struggles, pain, and love. That, to me, is the true meaning of honor. 

Allison Daily is the executive director of Pathfinders, a local nonprofit providing meaningful counseling and personal care services, at minimal cost, for individuals and families coping with grief as well as the impacts of serious illness. To learn more about Pathfinders, visit pathfindersforyou.org.