Three Ways to Find a New Normal While You’re Grieving

Three Ways to Find a New Normal – While You’re Grieving

When you grieve, life gets weird. In spite of the world’s routine questioning of what’s actually normal, we still all have a typical state of being that feels like us – that feels like home. But when you’re grieving, the world feels disjointed and weird – kind of like you’re walking under water. Sounds are muffled and your vision is blurry. You don’t know what’s real anymore. It’s like a dream, or more precisely a nightmare. You feel deeply heartbroken one moment, and the next you feel nothing.

In the beginning, while you’re planning funerals and dealing with the “business” of death (more on that another time), you are reminded at every turn that the person you loved so dearly is now gone. It’s easy during this time to be led around from decision to decision without thinking or feeling. You are numb. You plan funerals, pick out caskets or urns, choose songs for a memorial, create memorial programs, and put together all of the many details that go into this thing that’s supposed to help you say . . . goodbye. But you may not be feeling anything.

During this time, you wonder if life will ever make sense or if you’ll ever not feel the deepest exhaustion you’ve ever known.

You will. But it won’t be easy at first. It will feel uncomfortable. You won’t feel like yourself. As a woman that feels like a professional griever, here are three ways to find a new normal – while you’re grieving.

1. Honor Your Feelings

What does this mean? For me, this meant feeling what I feel, without judgement. Am I fearful? I let myself be fearful. Am I filled with a blinding rage toward God? I let myself be filled with a blinding rage. Am I sentimental and wondering how I’ll get through All Creatures Great and Small without my mom (I only watched it with her)?

There is no good that comes from denying how you feel. In my opinion, doing so keeps you further from the slow healing that comes with time. When the feeling bubbles up, honor it by giving it space. If you stuff it, ignore it, or try to use substances to numb the feeling, it will still be there. Waiting. I know you don’t want to hear this, but I’m going to hold your hand when I say this, you have to feel it to find the new normal. I’m sure you’ve heard the saying, what you resist, persists.

While this quote isn’t an exact parallel to grief, because grief doesn’t every truly leave us, it still fits. The longer we don’t feel it, the longer we don’t honor it, it holds on. We won’t experience the slow build to that new normal without feeling the pain. Let yourself feel it all. When you do, you will wake up some morning and sunshine will feel good on your skin again. You will find yourself smiling and laughing more than crying. The beauty will return. But you’ve got to face the loss first.

Disclaimer: Grief is fickle. You will find your new normal. But it will pop up again. Sometimes when you least expect it. But as you allow yourself to feel, those moments change over time and soften.

2. Give Yourself Grace

Like honoring your feelings, giving yourself grace requires facing yourself and how you feel, exactly as you are. My mom was 70 and fairly healthy in 2025. Or so I thought. She took next to no meds, didn’t have high blood pressure, etc. But she died less than 30 days after being diagnosed with a form of brain cancer (glioblastoma). I was alone to pack up her apartment, get rid of her car, etc. In the midst of overwhelming grief and on the heels of a short, traumatic illness (after losing my dad, brother, & dog), was I supposed to pack up 70 years of a life and go back to work like nothing happened? The answer is yes. When I went back to work, there were boxes all over my tiny apartment that I thought could find a place for. It was a mess.

I lived with an overwhelming feeling attached to those boxes. So, they sat. I didn’t touch them (for far too long). I was beating myself up, if I’m being honest. How could I not have the energy to deal with the mess? Was it really that difficult? I woke up one day and realized that after three years of significant grief, with mom’s death being the most traumatic and painful, it was unreasonable to expect anything different. Your new normal? It’s not going to be found in judging yourself for differences in your personality, your energy level, how you feel, or your inability to do simple tasks. To find your new normal, you have to give yourself grace. There is no other way. Accept and love yourself as you are in this moment. That grace translates to giving yourself time, amongst other things. Since I started this practice of giving myself grace, every time I accomplish a task, I celebrate. There are apps out there that may help you take tiny steps in the right direction (Finch Care is one of many).

3. Be fierce about your boundaries

People say and do really dumb things when you’re grieving. You may be deeply hurt by the inaction of others. Either way, create boundaries around yourself, your home, and what you need or don’t need. If social media makes you feel worse, delete it from your phone for a bit. If there are “friends” that say hurtful things as you make your way through the grieving process, don’t see or talk to them. If it’s bad enough, use your powers of deleting and blocking those who hurt you. Fiercely guard yourself, your time, your heart, and the loved one you’ve lost, by also protecting your peace. You do not owe anyone, anything. While this could be very difficult when you’re dealing with people you live or work with, I highly recommend seeking out a therapist to help you develop healthy boundaries with someone you must still see.

We cannot fix our grief. We cannot immediately heal the pain and we can’t bring our loved ones back. Grief will live with us always. We can find a new normal. And it doesn’t have to be dark and painful every moment. When we feel what we feel, give ourselves grace, and fiercely protect our boundaries – healing comes in waves of light, like waves of grief. The waves of light grow brighter and warmer over time. The day I unpacked the last box of my mom’s stuff felt like the first warm day after a frigid winter. My new normal doesn’t look like the me I used to know. I am different. But slowly, over time, I’m convinced I am a better version of me.

Can you think of anything else you’d add to these three?