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Journaling for Grief: For the People Who Aren't Okay Right Now
- 2 days ago
- 4 min read
A letter about grief, showing up anyway, and making space for the messy in-between.
Nobody warns you about the small moments. The ones that catch you completely off guard when you thought you were doing fine. The moments in Target when your phone goes off, and you think it's them.
Mine was reaching for my phone to call my grandma. She's been gone for months. My fingers still haven't gotten the memo.
I don't say that to make this heavy. I say it because I have a feeling you know exactly what I mean. Maybe not that exact moment, but something like it. Something that caught you off guard when you thought you were fine. A song in the car. A smell in a store. A habit your body hasn't broken yet.
That's the thing about grief, and about hard seasons in general. They don't announce themselves. They don't wait for a convenient time. They just settle in quietly, and suddenly you're crying in the cereal aisle at Target, wondering how you got there.
"Grief doesn't wait for you to be ready. It just shows up, usually when you're driving, or folding laundry, or finally having a good day."
Where I've Been
If you've ever bought a journal or printable from my shop, thank you. Genuinely. You might recognize my products more than my name, and that's okay. I haven't exactly been consistent about showing up here.
Grief is part of why I went quiet. I kept thinking I'd come back when I felt better. More together. More like someone who had any business running a shop built around emotional wellness and self-reflection.
But here's what I've slowly realized: that moment, the one where I feel completely okay and fully ready, isn't coming. And waiting for it means never showing up at all.
So I'm coming back anyway. Messy, still in it, and oddly glad to be writing this.
What Nobody Tells You About the Hard Seasons
I make journals and tools to help people process their feelings. I have for years. And one of the things I hear most from people is some version of this: "I don't even know where to start."
I hear you. I've been there. I've come back to that moment many times.
The hard seasons aren't just grief. They're the slow burn of burnout. The fog of anxiety. The exhaustion of holding everything together on the outside while something feels off on the inside. The strange guilt of not being okay when your life looks fine on paper.
They're the moments when you know something needs to shift, but you can't quite name what it is.
And here's what I want you to hear, from someone who makes tools for exactly this, and who is currently very much in the middle of her own hard season:
"You don't have to have it figured out to start. You just have to start somewhere. Even if somewhere is just sitting down and writing one sentence about how you actually feel."
That's it. That's the whole thing.
Five Things That Have Actually Helped Me
Just honest things that have made moments of grief or sadness slightly more survivable, in case any of them land for you too.
1. Letting grief be inconvenient
I spent a lot of energy trying to schedule my grief. As if you can actively choose to always process it at appropriate times, in appropriate places. It doesn't work that way. When it shows up, I've started just letting it. Even in the cereal aisle.
2. Writing without an agenda
Not journaling to solve something or reach a conclusion. Just writing to get it out of my head and onto paper. No prompts, no structure, no goal. Just a page and a pen and whatever comes out.
3. Naming the feeling, even when I only half-know what it is
There's real power in saying "I think I'm feeling grief and also guilt and maybe a little anger, and I don't totally understand why" out loud, or in a journal. You don't have to fully understand a feeling to give it a name and some room.
4. Lowering the bar for "okay"
I used to think being okay meant feeling good. I've redefined it to mean: I got through today. I ate something. I showed up. That's okay. That counts.
5. Letting myself be supported
This one is the hardest for me. I make support tools for other people. Accepting them for myself, whether that's a journal, a conversation, a therapist, or just a friend sitting with me, is still a practice, not a habit.
Hey, I'm only human. It's okay that you are too.
Journaling About Grief
For when you don't know where to start
No purchase needed. These are just for you, for today.
01 What's something I've been carrying that I haven't said out loud yet?
02 Where in my body am I holding tension right now?
03 What would it feel like to give myself permission to not be okay today?
04 What do I need most right now that I haven't asked for?
05 If I could say one honest thing to myself right now, what would it be?
The Tool I'd Recommend Right Now
If you've landed here during a hard season, this is the one I'd hand you first.
Coming Back
I started this shop because I believe that processing your feelings. Really sitting with them, naming them, writing them down. is one of the most important things you can do for yourself. I still believe that. More than ever, actually.
But I also believe that none of us has it completely together. Not the people who make the journals. Not the people who buy them. Not anyone.
So if you found this post during a hard season of your own, welcome. You're in the right place. And I'm really glad you're here.
Hard seasons don't last forever. Storms never do. And somewhere on the other side of this one, there's a rainbow with your name on it. I really believe that. For you and for me too.
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