Grief is just love with no place to go. Donna Ashworth
Grief comes in many forms. While we often associate it with the death of a loved one, it can also arise from other kinds of loss — the loss of a relationship, of trust, of identity, or of what we thought life would look like. This page offers space for all of those experiences.
Grief often reflects the depth of our connection — how much someone or something mattered. Some describe it as love continuing on, finding no place to land. That love might be tender, complicated, or even unresolved — but it's real. And so is the grief that follows.
Grief is a natural, human response to losing something — or someone — meaningful. It is not a single emotion, but a complex landscape that can include sadness, anger, confusion, longing, relief, numbness, and more. Grief can follow a bereavement, but it can also show up after life changes, relationship ruptures, or invisible losses that others may not recognise.
The death of someone we love often brings intense and enduring grief. Whether sudden or expected, it can change our sense of the world, of safety, and of ourselves. You may be grieving a parent, partner, friend, child, grandparent, sibling, or pet. There may be things left unsaid, unfinished, or complicated.
Grief after a death can be layered — love and pain, sorrow and gratitude, numbness and overwhelm. There’s no right way to grieve. No timeline. Just the slow and sometimes uneven process of adapting to a world without them in it.
Grief isn’t always about death. We can also grieve something we’ve lost or never had. This might include:
These kinds of grief are real and valid — even if others don’t always recognise or understand them.
Disenfranchised grief is grief that isn’t socially acknowledged or supported. It might be overlooked because the loss doesn’t fit cultural norms, or because it makes others uncomfortable.
You may experience disenfranchised grief if you’re mourning:
Disenfranchised grief can be especially isolating. It often carries shame or silence — as if your pain doesn’t count. But your grief deserves space, presence, and recognition.
Some grief doesn’t ease with time. It might feel stuck, overwhelming, or tangled with trauma. This is sometimes called complicated grief — where the mourning process feels blocked or prolonged.
You might:
Complicated grief can also arise when the relationship itself was difficult — for example, if you had an ambivalent or painful connection with a parent or family member. You may grieve not just their absence, but the version of the relationship you longed for and never had.
Therapy can help create a safe space to begin gently processing these layers, at your own pace.
You may have heard of the stages of grief — denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. These stages can be helpful for understanding some of what we might feel, but they’re not a checklist. Grief isn’t linear. You don’t move through it in tidy steps.
Grief comes in waves. It can take us by surprise — stirred by a memory, a song, a familiar smell, or an anniversary we’d forgotten. We might feel okay for a while and then be caught off guard by sudden emotion. That doesn’t mean we’re doing it wrong. It just means we’re human.
Sometimes, we might feel guilty for having moments of laughter or lightness — as if healing means forgetting. Or we might feel pressure, from ourselves or others, to be “over it” by now — whatever that means.
If you’re grieving the loss of someone you loved, you might wonder: would they want me to get over them, or instead, to carry their memory gently as I learn to live alongside the loss?
There’s no right way to grieve. There’s just your way — and you’re allowed to feel what you feel, even when it doesn’t make sense.
Grief isn’t just emotional — it can be physical, mental, and relational. You might experience:
There is no wrong way to grieve. You’re allowed to feel lost, unsure, or all over the place.
Therapy can be a place to speak your grief — without needing to explain, justify, or hold it together. It offers a space for:
My work is grounded in warmth, care, and a deep respect for the uniqueness of your grief. Whether your loss is recent or long ago, I offer a relational, non-pathologising space to meet it together.
Grief deserves a space where the ache, the silence, the questions, and the love that still lingers can be met with presence and compassion.
Alongside my psychotherapy work, I’ve supported grieving individuals and families as a medical social worker — both in hospital settings and in hospice care. I previously provided bereavement counselling through Our Lady’s Hospice and Care Services. These experiences continue to inform the compassion, presence, and respect I bring to grief work.
You don’t have to grieve alone. And you don’t have to rush your healing.
Grief doesn’t ask you to let go of what mattered — only to carry it differently, one day at a time, with gentleness and grace.