My mother was diagnosed with cancer when I was a nursing student. She was the reason I was in school at all — the person whose strength I was trying to build a life worthy of. When she passed away midway through my education, I didn’t have language for what I was feeling. I just knew that getting out of bed required a kind of effort that didn’t match anything I’d experienced before.
I kept going. I finished my degree. Then another. Then another. I built a career, a family, a practice. But the grief didn’t wait for me to be ready. It showed up in my body, my sleep, my patience, my ability to feel joy. It wove itself into seasons and anniversaries and ordinary moments that suddenly weren’t ordinary anymore. It wasn’t until years later — as a provider trained to recognize the very thing I’d been carrying — that I fully understood what grief does to a person when it goes unaddressed.
I share this not because my story is unique, but because it isn’t. Grief is one of the most universal human experiences, and yet it remains one of the least understood — even by the people living through it. In my practice, I see grief in clients who don’t use the word. They come in describing exhaustion, irritability, depression, anxiety, difficulty concentrating, a sense of disconnection from life. And often, underneath all of it, there is a loss — sometimes recent, sometimes decades old — that was never fully processed.
This post is for anyone carrying that kind of weight. Whether your loss is fresh or buried, recognized or invisible, I want to share what I’ve learned about grief from both sides — as someone who has lived it, and as a provider who helps others navigate it.
Grief Is Not What Our Culture Tells Us It Is
Most of us grew up with some version of the “five stages of grief” — denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance — presented as a neat, linear progression from pain to resolution. Elisabeth Kübler-Ross, who originally proposed these stages, intended them as a framework for understanding death from the perspective of the dying person, not as a prescriptive model for everyone who experiences loss (Kübler-Ross, 1969). The framework was not meant to suggest that grief follows a predictable sequence or that “acceptance” is a final destination.
In reality, grief is rarely linear. It can be circular, unpredictable, and deeply physical. You might feel fine for weeks and then be leveled by a song, a smell, or an empty chair at a holiday table. You might cycle between numbness and overwhelming emotion multiple times in a single day. You might grieve someone who is still alive — a relationship that ended, a version of yourself that no longer exists, a future that didn’t materialize.
All of this is normal. And all of it deserves attention and care.
How Grief Affects the Brain and Body
Grief is not just an emotional experience — it is a neurobiological one. Research has shown that the brain processes significant loss in ways that affect cognition, emotional regulation, physical health, and daily functioning.
A study published in NeuroImage found that grief activates brain regions associated with physical pain, memory retrieval, and emotional regulation simultaneously — which helps explain why loss can feel physically painful and cognitively disorienting at the same time (Gündel et al., 2003). The brain is, in a very real sense, trying to reconcile the absence of someone or something it was deeply wired to expect.
Grief also affects the body’s stress response. Prolonged grief can dysregulate cortisol levels, weaken immune function, disrupt sleep architecture, and increase inflammation. The phenomenon of “broken heart syndrome” — a stress-induced cardiomyopathy triggered by emotional shock — is a clinically documented example of how profound loss can directly impact the heart (Sharkey et al., 2005).
This is why grieving individuals often report symptoms that look like depression, anxiety, or burnout: because grief produces many of the same neurochemical and physiological effects. Understanding this can be profoundly validating. You’re not weak. You’re not overreacting. Your brain and body are responding to loss exactly as they were designed to.
The Grief That Doesn’t Get Named
In my practice, some of the most impactful grief happens around losses that our culture doesn’t fully recognize. The clinical term for this is disenfranchised grief — grief that is not openly acknowledged, socially validated, or publicly mourned (Doka, 1989).
This may include grief over a miscarriage or pregnancy loss, the end of a significant relationship (even if you chose to leave), loss of health or physical ability, the death of a pet, loss of a job, career, or sense of professional identity, estrangement from a family member, grief related to immigration — leaving your homeland, your community, your language, and your sense of belonging, and loss of a version of yourself (i.e the person you were before trauma, illness, or a life-altering experience).
As a first-generation African immigrant, I carry a particular understanding of this last category. Immigration grief is rarely discussed in clinical settings, but it is profound. It’s the loss of cultural context, of daily proximity to people who knew you before you had to explain yourself, of traditions that don’t translate fully into a new environment. Many of my clients from immigrant backgrounds carry this grief silently because there’s no culturally sanctioned space for it. At InnerClarity, I honor this dimension of grief because a treatment plan that ignores your cultural reality is incomplete.
When Grief Becomes Something More
Grief is a natural response to loss, and for most people, the acute intensity gradually softens over time — not disappearing, but becoming more integrated into the fabric of life. However, for some individuals, grief persists at a level that significantly impairs daily functioning long after the initial loss.
The DSM-5-TR introduced Prolonged Grief Disorder (PGD) as a formal diagnosis, recognizing that a subset of bereaved individuals experience grief that remains intense, pervasive, and disabling for at least 12 months after a loss in adults (APA, 2022). Symptoms of PGD may include intense yearning or preoccupation with the deceased, difficulty accepting the reality of the loss, emotional numbness or detachment, loss of identity or sense of self, avoidance of reminders, and a persistent sense that life is meaningless without the person who is gone.
If any of this resonates, please know that there is no shame in grief that persists. It doesn’t mean you’re grieving wrong. It means your loss was significant enough to your nervous system that it requires more than time alone to process. Professional support — through therapy, medication when appropriate, and holistic care — can help you begin to integrate the loss without losing yourself in it.
What I’ve Learned About Grief — As a Provider and as a Person
There are things about grief that I couldn’t have learned from a textbook. Things my mother’s death taught me, and that my years of clinical work have confirmed again and again.
Grief doesn’t have a timeline. There is no point at which you should be “over it.” The idea that grief resolves on a schedule is one of the most harmful myths in our culture. What changes over time is not the size of the loss, but your capacity to carry it.
Grief and gratitude can coexist. You can be grateful for the life you’ve built and still grieve what was lost along the way. These are not contradictions. They are the complexity of being human.
Grief often masquerades as something else. The client who comes in saying “I just can’t focus” or “I’m so irritable with my kids” or “I don’t know why I’m so tired” — sometimes, underneath the presenting symptom, there is a loss that has gone unacknowledged.
Cultural context shapes grief profoundly. How we mourn, who we mourn for, how long we’re “allowed” to grieve, and what grief is even considered legitimate — all of this is shaped by cultural norms. Effective grief care has to honor that.
You don’t have to grieve alone. This is perhaps the most important thing. In many cultures — including my own — grief is a communal experience. It’s shared, witnessed, and held collectively. The Western clinical model sometimes reduces grief to an individual psychological event, but healing often requires connection — to a provider, a community, a loved one, or even to the person you’ve lost.
Supporting Your Own Grief — Practical Guidance
If you are grieving, here are some things that may help.
Name the loss. Sometimes grief intensifies because it hasn’t been acknowledged — even to yourself. Simply naming what you’ve lost, out loud or in writing, can begin to reduce its weight.
Let your body process. Grief lives in the body as much as the mind. Gentle movement, deep breathing, warm baths, and being in nature can help your nervous system regulate during periods of intense grief.
Protect your sleep. Grief disrupts sleep, and sleep deprivation worsens grief. Maintaining a consistent sleep schedule and creating a restful environment can support your brain’s ability to process loss.
Be honest with your support system. Let people know what you need — even if what you need is space. Grief can be isolating, but reaching out doesn’t require you to perform wellness you don’t feel.
Seek professional support when grief becomes stuck. If your grief is persistently interfering with your ability to function, connect, or find meaning in daily life — or if you notice it driving anxiety, depression, or physical symptoms — a provider who understands can help you begin to move through it rather than around it.
Frequently Asked Questions About Grief
Is grief a mental health condition?
Grief itself is not a mental illness — it is a natural, expected response to loss. However, when grief persists at a level that significantly impairs daily functioning over an extended period, it may meet criteria for Prolonged Grief Disorder, which is a recognized clinical diagnosis. Grief can also trigger or worsen other conditions like depression, anxiety, and insomnia.
How do I know if my grief is “normal”?
There is wide variation in how people grieve, and most expressions of grief are within the range of normal human response. If your grief is beginning to soften over time — even if that process is slow and nonlinear — it is likely following a natural course. If the intensity remains unchanged or worsens, if you are unable to function in your daily life, or if you are experiencing thoughts of self-harm, professional support is recommended.
Can medication help with grief?
Medication is not typically prescribed for grief itself, but it can be helpful when grief triggers or coexists with conditions like depression, anxiety, or insomnia that significantly impairs functioning. In my practice, any medication consideration during grief is approached thoughtfully and in the context of the broader picture — not as a way to suppress a natural process, but as a tool to support stability when needed.
I lost someone years ago and still struggle. Is it too late to get help?
It is not too late. Grief does not expire, and neither does the opportunity to process it. Many adults carry grief from losses that occurred years or decades ago, and seeking support now can still lead to meaningful healing and relief.
Do you work with grief in your practice?
Yes. Grief — including anticipatory grief, disenfranchised grief, and prolonged grief — is something I work with regularly through medication management as appropriate, lifestyle strategies, and supportive therapy. My approach is informed by both clinical training and personal experience with loss.
You Don’t Have to Carry This Alone
If grief has been shaping your life in ways you haven’t fully acknowledged — through exhaustion, disconnection, anxiety, or a sadness you can’t quite name — I want you to know that support is available. You don’t need to wait until grief becomes a crisis to seek help. And you don’t need to grieve on anyone else’s timeline.
At InnerClarity Psychiatry & Wellness, I provide holistic, culturally informed telepsychiatric care to individuals across Minnesota and Iowa navigating grief, depression, anxiety, burnout, and a range of other mental health challenges. My approach honors your whole self — your story, your culture, your pace, and your path to healing.
If you’re ready to be seen and supported through your grief, request a consultation at InnerClarity Psychiatry & Wellness today.
References
American Psychiatric Association. (2022). Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (5th ed., text rev.).
Doka, K. J. (1989). Disenfranchised Grief: Recognizing Hidden Sorrow. Lexington Books.
Gündel, H., O’Connor, M. F., Littrell, L., et al. (2003). Functional Neuroanatomy of Grief: An fMRI Study. American Journal of Psychiatry, 160(11), 1946–1953.
Kübler-Ross, E. (1969). On Death and Dying. Macmillan.
Sharkey, S. W., Lesser, J. R., Zenovich, A. G., et al. (2005). Acute and Reversible Cardiomyopathy Provoked by Stress in Women from the United States. Circulation, 111(4), 472–479.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Aicha Katty, DNP, APRN, PMHNP-BC, FNP-C, is the founder of InnerClarity Psychiatry & Wellness, a telepsychiatry practice serving individuals across Minnesota and Iowa. She holds a Doctor of Nursing Practice from Winona State University and dual board certifications in psychiatric mental health and family practice.
Aicha’s path into healthcare was shaped by her own experience with grief following her mother’s passing from cancer during her nursing education. That loss — along with subsequent encounters with depression, burnout, and the complexities of immigrant identity — deepened her commitment to providing care that is empathetic, culturally informed, and whole-person focused. She works with clients navigating grief, life transitions, depression, and anxiety, bringing both clinical expertise and genuine understanding to sessions.
If grief has been weighing on you — whether the loss is recent or long-carried — request a consultation at InnerClarity Psychiatry & Wellness today.
