Grieving is really hard.

To grieve something, to truly mourn it, means acknowledging that something has happened that we cannot undo. It means facing what we miss, what we regret, what we wish had been different, and sitting with the reality that time cannot be turned back. A loss cannot be made up for, it leaves a void by its very definition. Not all losses are traumas, some are ordinary painful moments in life of missing something, regretting something, not having or getting something that we want. Beating ourselves up or ruminating over what we (or others) could have done differently, covering up our feelings with fun activities or other distractions, or trying to get someone to admit to us they did us wrong, doesn't really take away the loss. Mourning allows us to process it.

Grieving effectively requires us to stay with sadness instead of trying to fix it. It asks us not to blame ourselves or someone else, not to analyze every detail, not to replay the past as if we could somehow rewrite it. Yet so many of us do exactly that.

We mentally rehearse what we should have done.

What we could have done.

What might have changed everything, if only.

These inner loops are often attempts to regain a sense of control—ways of convincing ourselves that the outcome was preventable, that we had more power than we really did. In a strange way, this can feel safer than admitting that something painful happened and that we were, at times, powerless.

Acceptance and mourning are hard because they require letting go.

Letting go of control.

Letting go of blame.

Letting go of the fantasy that things could have turned out differently if only something had been different.

In therapy, one of the most healing moments is when someone is able to access their sadness—without needing to fix it, justify it, or explain it away. When they can feel the pain without rushing into self-criticism or anger or endless “what ifs.”

Sometimes we regret things we’ve done—but at the time, we didn’t have the tools to do it differently. Sometimes we were doing the best we could with the awareness, support, and emotional capacity we had then. And sometimes, things simply happened that were never in our control.

Learning to accept that reality is part of healing.

When we stop trying to reverse the past, when we loosen our grip on imagined alternate endings, we can begin to move forward. Not because the pain disappears, but because it has finally been felt, and this lets it move through us.

Reality can be hard. We were never meant to face it alone.

We need others to help us hold what hurts, to soothe us, to remind us that we don’t have to punish ourselves or stay stuck in regret loops.

So if you notice yourself blaming, ruminating, or wishing, maybe ask yourself: Is there grief underneath this?

Then move toward yourself with compassion, notice your sadness, share it with someone else, and let yourself feel it.
It may hurt for a bit, but once the hurt stops, you'll feel a sense of freedom and liberation.