How To Love Yourself Through Grief

It has been a whole month (or 735 hours to be exact) since I watched my soul dog Chico take his last breath. What I have learned about love, loss and self-care over the last month has been an interesting lesson in expectations and surrender.

I've experienced grief plenty of times in my 39 years of life. I've lost all my grandparents, farewelled friends, sent pets over the bridge, lost jobs and broken down and recreated my entire identity. So I'm no stranger to grief and I am aware of all the "different stages", but this experience with Chico felt brand new and different. I have never grieved like this before. His final heartbeat shattered a piece of me and when his soul left this Earth, a small fraction of mine went with him. I felt it.

Since then, I’ve had nightmares and flashbacks almost daily, my body reliving those final moments at the vet’s office: the shock, the heat, the rush of adrenaline. Often it happens out of nowhere, while lying in bed, playing with my kids, or doing something mundane - suddenly I’m right back there. My heart races, my palms sweat, my chest tightens. It’s terrifying, but I’ve learned not to fight it. Surrender has been my saving grace. Letting the waves come and trusting that they’ll pass.

Grief is a full body experience

Grief isn’t something that can be easily explained, it must be lived. And even then, no two experiences are ever the same. There’s no rulebook, no timeline, no “right” way to do it.

Your grief is uniquely yours.
Others can love and support you, but what happens inside your heart and body is something only you can feel.

And while our instinct is often to rush through the pain, to “get over it”  because it feels unpleasant, that only delays the healing. You're grieving because you've loved and cared about someone, or something so deeply. Grief is sacred. It’s how we honour the depth of our love.

Here’s what helped me honour both my boy and my own healing over the past month.

1. Allowed and felt every single emotion (even the uncomfy ones)

Grief isn’t just sadness. It’s anger, guilt, disbelief, denial — sometimes all in one afternoon.

Whenever one would arise, I’d name it: “I’m feeling anger.” Then I’d sit with it. I didn’t try to explain or fix it. It just was. I was angry, I was fucking furious! At myself, at the universe, at strangers going about their day as if my world hadn’t crumbled. Someone posted a picture of their, very much alive, dog on Instagram and I was fuming and jealous. The emotions associated with grief aren't always rational and that's ok.

Letting those emotions move through my body stopped them from getting stuck there.
Feel it now, or your body will make you feel it later.

2. Gave myself permission to completely stop "self-improving"

For that first week, all my usual self-care went out the window. I ate terribly. I didn’t go to the gym. I didn’t listen to a single “motivational” podcast. I barely got off the couch.

At one point, my husband gently reminded me to go sit in the sun - so I did… while eating pizza and crying.

And you know what? That was exactly what my nervous system needed.
No pressure, no productivity, no “bounce back.”

Whatever self-care looks like for you during grief — that’s what it needs to be.
Even if it’s trackie dacks, a box of BBQ Shapes, and a marathon of mindless TikToks.

Embrace the "wallow" but don't stay there forever. Give yourself a time limit and then gently ease back into regular programming at whatever pace feels right for you. 

3. Surrounded myself with people who "got it".
For the first 24 hours I basically went mute. Other than waking up at 5:30am and wailing for "my baby" I couldn't talk to anyone. I had friends and family try to call me but I chose not to answer. Not because I wasn't appreciative of the gestures but because I physically could not form words.

Eventually, I reached out to a few people who understood. One dear friend,  a fellow dog lover, held space through text when I couldn’t talk and quietly dropped a care package off without disturbing me.

And when I finally faced school drop-off the following Monday, I panicked at the thought of small talk. But the school mums, bless them, didn’t ask questions. They just wrapped me in hugs and gentle back rubs.

You don’t owe anyone your presence or your words.
Choose the people who can hold space for your grief without trying to fix it.

4. Did the absolute bare minimum.
The housework got done just enough, mainly because I'm an emotional cleaner (get it from my Mama), my kids were fed and clean and I did my part time job because it was a welcome distraction. But in no aspect of my life did I go above and beyond. Again, I gave myself full permission to just do the bare minimum. I gave at the level of capacity I was at.

If you only have 10% to give, and you give that 10% then you have given 100%

5. I cancelled my clients.
I hated doing it, the people-pleaser in me rebelled against it right up until I hit send. But I recognised enough that, for that week, I could not be the grounded space-holder and practitioner that my clients deserved. I could not walk into my clinic and not have Chico at my feet, especially when most of my clients are regulars who knew and loved him as well. I didn't step foot in my clinic at all that week. 
I recognise that I am more privileged than some being that I work for myself so can easily just cancel appointments. If you HAVE to work then cancel other things that are more flexible. Any extra-curriculars that you just don't have the energy for - cancel.

Recognise that you need to take a step back and don't feel bad for doing so. Ignore that people-pleaser voice and do what is best for YOU.

Final Thoughts

Grief isn’t linear. It ebbs and flows. Some days feel almost normal, and others hit like a tidal wave.

But through it all, I’ve learned that the most loving thing you can do for yourself is to let it all be what it is - messy, painful, beautiful, human.

To everyone that is also walking through grief right now:
Be gentle with yourself. Honour your love. Honour your loss. And trust that, in time, your heart will expand around the ache.

“Grief is the price we pay for love.”
— Queen Elizabeth II