Coping with Grief: Practices That Helped Me Heal

It’s been a year and a half since my life shifted. These are the things that have helped me survive it.

I’m not writing from the other side.

I’m still in it.

But these are the rituals and practices that have kept me steady.

There was a point where I couldn’t stand upright. I was hunched over without meaning to be, my body clenched like it was bracing for impact. Every movement carried tension. Walking five steps felt like too much. Ten steps felt impossible. Even half a block hurt. I wasn’t just sad—I was physically locked inside it. Eventually, I had to find things that allowed my body to release. To soften. To unclench enough to keep moving.

My heart was broken.

But so was I, in ways I didn’t yet understand.

It’s a kind of pain where you almost don’t mind the idea of never feeling better again.

But even then, you have to fight to show up for yourself.

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1. Spa Days & Massages

If you’re grieving, don’t forget your body.

It took me a while to give myself permission.

My aunt recommended I get massages to release tension. I was carrying too much. It took me a moment to find a home spa and masseuse I’m comfortable with. Consistency matters. Once a month.

Grief lives in the body. It sat in my shoulders. In my jaw. In my lower back. Touch — safe, intentional touch — reminded my nervous system I was allowed to soften. It wasn’t indulgence. It was regulation.

2. Journaling

It took me a while to find the energy to start journaling consistently. My entries began with me cussing and hating everything.

Fuck this.

Fuck that.

My world collapsing.

My journal pages gave me the freedom to do that — to be angry, to feel my feelings, my pain, my devastation. Gradually, the rage on the page gave way to full, honest sentiment. The anger is still there, just a little less prominent.

3. Reiki

I’ve always been empathic, heavily connected to energy. Grief is energy. It moves. It gets stuck.

Reiki is a gentle practice that works with your body’s energy, aligning your chakras and helping release tension, trauma, and emotional blocks. I got Reiki in Costa Rica three times. It felt like a long hug, a hug I’d been missing.

It felt like permission to release what I couldn’t name. A reminder that my body holds memory, and I can help it move. It’s subtle, restorative, and quiet — but the effects linger in ways I couldn’t always articulate.

4. Movement

Running, walking, stretching, dancing, Pilates. In my room, at the club, on the beach, in the park, at the gym.

Yoga and breath work is cool, but some of us just need to let it go — literally. Find a boxing class, a rage room, a mosh pit, or throw some weights around.

Not to be strong. Not to lose weight. Not to be fit. But to release.

Movement is medicine. It’s my medicine. Motion keeps grief from settling into stone.

5. Travel

I enjoyed traveling to the Caribbean after my mom died. The beach brought me peace. Carnival gave me release. The sun wrapped me in her softness.

Changing your environment can shift your perspective. Being somewhere new — a different city, a beach, a rainforest — can remind you that life keeps moving, even when yours feels paused.

I think my favorite place to cry is on a plane, because those people will never see me again.

Travel can be healing, but it can also be escapist. Some days I traveled to step away from the grief, other days I traveled to step toward myself. Both were necessary.

6. A Grief Counselor

Getting a grief counselor was one of the last things I did, and I wish I had done it sooner. But I know I did it when I couldn’t go any further. When the time was necessary.

It can be hard — your family and friends want you to get over your grief, even when they understand it’s still uncomfortable. Your sadness makes them sad. It makes them remember your pain. Having someone designated to talk to is a lifeline.

Not just therapy. Someone trained in loss. Someone who understands grief is not linear. Someone who lets me circle the same story without rushing me toward closure. Someone who reminds me it’s okay to still feel. It’s okay to be lost. This is loss after all.

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This isn’t a one-size-fits-all solution. These are just small aids that may help you on your grief journey.

Sorry you have to need this anyway.