Hello There, Grief...

Hande Walker, MA, LLP

I feel like I am getting to know a different aspect of my grief each day. Grief for me is like one of those people that you are intimidated by. You think you know everything about them, but then they do something unexpected and completely take you by surprise. The kind of person that is unpredictable but not in a bad or unhealthy, manipulative way. The kind of person that cannot categorize their personality type in a number, because they are more complex than that. The kind of person from whom you feel there is so much to learn, even though you’ve known them forever. It never gets boring, but it’s a bit exhausting because sometimes you just want to be around simplicity, predictability, and even boring, as you do not always feel up for an

adventure. So anyway, imagine that person, but it’s not a person - it’s an emotion instead. That is how I experience my grief!


Recently, I have realized that my grief makes me want to take action. It gives me the “sense of urgency” to act on a thought or an idea. The action step is not always in line with my values, what would be in my best interest, or what would benefit my relationships. I sometimes find myself wanting to provide a manual for my clients who are going through grief. To be able to

tell them when their grief is going to end or be more manageable. Why do I want a manual?


This is a question I battle with a lot in my line of work. Because most things are so abstract, I crave a manualized approach to tell me what to say or what to do. When it comes to grief especially, I also think I need the manual to have some sense of certainty and familiarity, so the process of grieving does not get more overwhelming than it already is.


Grief feels distinct from other emotions in this way, as it has a quality that never ceases to baffle me. Like, you do not know when it’s going to hit you, even if you identify and go through every single possible scenario you can imagine to know what to do and how to take care of yourself when you’re reminded of your loss. It is like the universe finds a clever or sneaky way to surprise you when you expect it the least.


Let’s talk about anxiety, for example. Anxiety can be sneaky too and manifest in subtle ways sometimes. Not the intense physical symptoms that feel like you are going to have a heart attack and die, but when you experience rumination, can’t stop overthinking something, when you are being short with your partner or feel irritated and agitated. That is easier to chalk up to

anxiety for me. For some reason, it is easy for me to understand and conceptualize anxiety. To understand the impact of anxiety on relationships, for instance, is easier to grasp and come to terms with. If I am anxious and easily annoyed, I will relate to others in a way that will reflect the ‘not so pleasant state of my mind/being.’


When it comes to grief though, it feels as if all of a sudden, I do not know how to be a human and do humanly things. When I am grieving, I do not always understand how I feel physically or regard the sensations in my body - or even the energy around me - as a reflection of my grief. For some reason, it is very hard to make that mind-body connection for me in the context of grief.It is also hard to put this into words, as I feel like I am trying to describe something so intangible. It’s as if you have to experience it to know and to understand.


I recently realized that “the urge to do something and fix it” comes from a place of hurt, sadness, and powerlessness attached to the grief related to a loss I experienced a few years ago. Not wanting to come to terms with something that is so unfixable, so irreversible. Not wanting to accept that there is no chance to make it better anymore. It is over, and I have to accept that I must move on.Yuck! Even writing this in a very clear and conclusive way right now evokes uncomfortable feelings and sensations in my body. Hello there, grief! I see and recognize you now!


Finally, not suppressing or ignoring the presence of my grief is helping me not make impulsive decisions or take actions when there is no action to take. For example, calling that person that my brain somehow convinced me was such a good idea, even supporting its argument with persuasive reasons that provided a sudden (false) sense of relief. I felt like I was finally on to something. Finally, I found a way to reverse the situation and make everything go back to what it was before. I am excited, hopeful, and it feels too good to be true. Then reality sets in. After engaging in some reflection and feeling more grounded in the painful reality, I realized my “protective part” was trying so hard to not let me feel the pain of loss and grief.


One time, my protective part worked so skillfully that I even convinced my therapist that I was making the right decision with the action I was planning on taking. My therapist even told me jokingly that I should be a lawyer. Apparently I was so persuasive. I really want to give credit to my protective part for working so hard to keep me safe. I initially was so upset and embarrassed about that protective part that ran the show that day, for going to such lengths to prove her point right, not caring about the consequences of her almost-impulsive actions. Then, I realized it was that protective part that would not let me develop a relationship with my grief - so much so that I felt numb when my body was screaming for help, begging to be seen.


With the help of therapy, I was able to understand the incredibly hard work my protective part was taking on so that I did not feel the pain of loss. Only then did I start to have compassion for this amazing, courageous, kind, younger part of me. I reassured her that despite the pain, I was glad to be in touch with my grief. Because feeling disconnected from the pain also meant I was disconnected from the other positive things that were going on in my life. I was just an observer of myself - of my life - like watching myself in a movie as an audience member, not knowing I am the main actor and I can change the course of things. How exciting and empowering! But also scary and risky. That was when I realized I’d rather live in reality and learn ways to manage my grief (just like I did with anxiety) than live in a fantasy world, hoping and wishing that someday my brain will find a way to get back what I have lost.


Witnessing so many of my clients who are in different phases of their grief journey and their relentless attempts at cognitive bypassing made me realize how important it is to find manageable ways to allow grief to exist. Simply acknowledging the presence of grief and being honest with myself about the intensity of the pain helped me relate to my grief in a different way. It did not become this scary thing or a danger zone I never wanted to go near. Instead, I realized I had to learn to honor its existence and adaptive function in my life. Easier said than done- I know. However, coming to this realization gradually brought me an unexpected sense of relief - knowing I do not have to fear grief. Because when you add fear to the mix, it’s as if the thing you are avoiding intensifies by multitudes.


I think what helped me a lot was curiosity and openness to this new entity that was coming my way. Also, resourcing myself - expanding my capacity to handle big emotions (positive and negative) - was necessary if I was going to take an honest look at my loss. It required a lot of courage that I didn’t have at the time - not realizing courage was something I could cultivate when I opened up more space for the unknown and embraced the fear. And embracing the fear didn’t look “cute,” like what you see in the movies, when somebody finally confronts and overcomes their fear.


Inevitably, I will experience another loss in life, but having a stronger relationship with grief itself - knowing more aspects of grief and having an open and curious attitude towards it - means grief finally does not feel like such a strange territory, like the person I was describing in the beginning. It also does not take control of my life or does not dictate my decisions. I, at least, have more neutrality towards it, rather than completely denying its presence. I can’t say that I am excited to interact with it at all times or that I look forward to its unannounced arrival. However, I am interested in listening and hearing what it has to tell me. At the very least, I do not find myself fantasizing about a manual to help me interact with my grief anymore (I never read them anyway). And I am happy with that progress.


Hande Walker, MA, LLP is a therapist at Restore Therapy Collective. In her free time Hande enjoys long walks or a hike in the nature. Besides spending time with friends and family, Hande loves reading-especially psychological thriller books. To schedule an appointment with Hande, please send a secure message through our contact form.

Restore Therapy Collective

Doing the Reps: What Running Has Taught Me About Mental Health

By Jonah Maichele • April 20, 2026
As a runner, I’ve learned that progress rarely comes from a single run. Rather, it comes from doing the reps time and time again. Sometimes, it means long miles when my legs feel strong. Other times, it is dragging myself out the door when it’s still pitch black outside, and the temperature is well below freezing. Of course there have been plenty of mornings when the last thing I wanted to do was run (And there still are days I don’t want to). But over time, the runs that felt difficult or like a chore, slowly became part of my routine. Changing behavior and creating a routine often works the same way. Many people come into counseling hoping for a breakthrough moment and/or quick fix, where everything suddenly makes sense and life feels easier. These moments can happen, but lasting change more often comes from practicing new ways of thinking, responding, and caring for yourself over and over again. In other words, it comes from doing the reps. In running, a rep might be a mile repeat or a long training run. In mental health, the reps look different. They might be things like pausing before reacting in a difficult conversation, challenging a negative thought instead of automatically believing it, or practicing a coping skill when anxiety starts to rise. At first, these reps can feel awkward and uncomfortable. Just like starting a new training plan, the effort can feel heavy in the beginning. Our brains adapt in much the same way our bodies do. With each rep, new patterns start to take hold. That coping skill becomes more natural. The pause before reacting becomes easier. That difficult conversation becomes more manageable. Here are some reps you can give a try Drink a full glass of water when you wake up in the morning. Take five minutes before bed to simply focus on your breathing. Step outside for a short walk, even if it’s just around the block. Pause and take three slow breaths when you notice stress building. Write down one thing you’re grateful for at the end of the day. Remember! The goal isn’t perfection. It’s getting in the reps. Start with something small, even if it feels too easy. Some days the reps will feel easier than others. Some days they’ll feel heavy. Change tends to come from continuing to show up anyway. And eventually, the things that once felt difficult start to feel normal. That’s when real change begins to take hold.  Jonah Maichele is a counseling intern at Restore Therapy Collective. In his free time, Jonah enjoys running, playing guitar, and hammocking at the beach. His favorite foods include sushi, orange chicken, and his grandma’s specialty gnocchis.

Riding in Harmony: A New Way to Understand Your Emotions

By Morgan Peterson, LLMFT, LLPC • February 25, 2026
I so often hear things like, “I know I shouldn’t get angry, but I do,” or, “I get so anxious, and I should just let it go.” It’s a common refrain of things that should be done and ways we should behave. We talk about emotions as something to control rather than work alongside, but what would happen if we learned to work with our emotions rather than against them? Think of our emotions as a horse—they’re instinctual, reactive, powerful, and often rooted in survival mechanisms. Just like a horse, they can be strong and seemingly unpredictable. Now think of the rational part of ourselves as the rider of the horse; this is the part of us that plans, is logical, and tries to stay in control to lead us in deliberate direction. The goal isn’t to “break” the horse and give the rider total control, and the goal is also not to let the horse run wild. The goal is to build a relationship between the two. When the horse and rider work together in harmony, the journey is smooth. The horse provides energy and motivation while the rider offers direction and guidance. If the horse is too in charge, it might bolt with fear, anger, or desire, and this can lead us off trail. If the rider is too dominating, they may ignore signals from the horse until it erupts, or the horse is stifled to the point of low energy and lack of motivation. Therapeutic work often involves helping the rider understand and work with the horse by learning how to notice, respond to, and gently guide it. The goal isn’t control, but connection. It’s about building relationship between emotions and our rational selves to encourage understanding, respect, and resiliency within ourselves. We can listen to our emotions without being overwhelmed by them, and we can use our rational mind without it becoming a harsh inner-critic. Emotional regulation isn’t about silencing emotions, but learning to ride with them. Morgan Peterson, LLMFT, LLPC, is a therapist at Restore Therapy Collective. Morgan’s passion is helping people improve their relationships—with others and with themselves. When not in session, you can find her gardening, knitting, reading, or doing other “grandma” hobbies.

Child Therapy is Family Therapy

By Melanie Freeland, LLPC • November 3, 2025
There aren’t many more distressing ideas for parents than the thought of their child in emotional pain. Parents contact me often in a panic because they believe their child is struggling, and they feel as if they, as parents, are failing. That may be why it’s often surprising that the first direct question I ask at a parent consultation is, “How are YOU doing?” Children Don’t Exist in Isolation What brings a child to therapy is often a reflection of the distress the entire family system is experiencing. From the moment a child is born, their nervous system is shaped by things as seemingly minute as tone of voice and facial expressions. Stress experienced by parents and other caregivers does not go unnoticed. The difference with children is that they, developmentally, do not have the capacity to see themselves as separate from a caregiver’s stress, the boundaries haven’t been formed yet. Something as simple as a string of bad days at work for a caregiver can be interpreted by a child as a failing on their part. In other words, a child’s mental health is not just about their inner world, but about the “relational web” they are a part of every day. This ABSOLUTELY does not mean caregivers are ‘at fault’ for their child’s distress. It does mean that engaging in the therapy process and growing skills to model within the family system can be the biggest contributor to long-term therapeutic success. The Family as Co-Therapist; What does it mean to engage in the therapy process? Child therapists have different views on what constitutes best practice for parental involvement in therapy. Filial play therapists, who work with the entire family system (parents and kids at the same time) through play, have parents attend every session. Child-centered play therapists meet with parents separately on a regular schedule. Other child therapists may meet with parents for a few minutes during each session. There is no one correct model, but there are a few things to expect while working with your child’s therapist. Learning new skills : Identifying areas of difficulty (such as co-regulation, routines, or limit setting) and trying new strategies that work for the WHOLE family. Becoming situationally reflective, not self derogatory : Working toward a mindset of “What is my child communicating to me right now?” instead of “What am I doing wrong?” Growing in confidence and self-compassion : Internalizing the understanding that your job as a parent is not to solve every problem, but to help yourself remain regulated so that you can be with your child as they learn about the world around them. A Collaborative Journey The end goal of therapy for a child may not be for the child to be able to perfectly manage all situations. In fact, I would go so far as to say that SHOULDN’T be the end goal. Instead, working with a therapist to uncover what a child is bringing to the family system and finding ways to address the whole system can lead to faster and longer lasting therapeutic change. I challenge all parents to think of therapy for their child as a collaborative journey for the whole family, and find positive change for themselves in the journey as well. Melanie Freeland is a therapist at Restore Therapy Collective specializing in relational trauma and attachment. When she’s not with clients, she’s likely reading, baking, or spending time with her family. To schedule an appointment with Melanie, please send a secure message through our contact form .
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