Navigating Grief in a Fast-Moving World: Why Mourning Needs Room to Breathe
In a world that almost worships packed calendars… constant notifications… and hearts and hug emojis to convey feelings, it can feel like we have reduced the space for grief into less than the size of a sympathy card.
The experience of grief is, of course, nothing new. We have grieved since time immemorial. But how we express and integrate that grief has changed. From my perspective, not always for the better.
Most of us no longer live in tight-knit communities where mourning rituals are a shared part of life. Our current culture grieves behind closed doors, rushes us to “move on,” praises quiet strength, and gives us three days off before expecting us to return to inboxes and small talk, as if our world hasn’t completely been shifted off its axis.
But grief isn’t a project with a schedule and a target date. It’s not linear. And although it’s a journey, there’s no road map, no scheduled stops to stretch our legs, and certainly no station at the end of the road where we can consider the journey over.
This is where making the distinction between grief and mourning – and learning how to do both - matters.
Grief is all about our internal emotional, mental, and physical experience. The sadness, anger, brain fog, exhaustion, guilt… I could go on of course.
Mourning is what we do with our grief. It’s about the rituals we keep – whether immediately after, or forever. The conversations we have, the candles we light, and the stories we keep alive.
In most cultures, mourning has traditionally been communal and ritualized: a black armband or clothing, a seven-day shiva, a night-long wake. Today, once the service is over, we often keep our mourning private - unless we post it on social media. But emojis and comments on our tribute posts aren’t the same as being truly held in our grief.
And let’s talk about social media for a moment. Yes, it can connect us. It can allow us to honor someone publicly, and even provide a digital space for remembrance. But it can also lead to comparison, performance, and isolation. Grief becomes something we’re silently judged for - or worse, something we feel we have to filter and caption for likes.
But we weren’t meant to grieve alone.
Science tells us that real, personal connection is a critical part of healing. A hug. A hand on our shoulder. Someone simply sitting quietly beside us. These are the things that actually soothe our nervous system and tell our brain we are safe, seen, and not alone.
Something that a heart emoji or a “thinking of you” comment can’t really do.
So how do we reclaim our right to grieve in a world that seems uncomfortable with it?
We start by giving ourselves permission. To feel. To mourn. To need time.
We create our own rituals, whether they are formal or informal, traditional or personal.
We find a connection with one safe person who will let us speak the name of the person we lost without rushing to fix our feelings.
And maybe we remind ourselves that:
You’re not broken.
You don’t need to “move on.”
Your grief isn’t taking too long - the world just moves too fast.
If you’re grieving right now, I see you.
Take your time. Take a breath.
Light the candle.
Write the letter.
Go for the walk.
This is your journey, and there’s no wrong way to take it.
🌿 Need support? I’ve created free tools - from journaling prompts to calming exercises - at transformativejourneys.ca/johannas-toolboxes
