🌿 How to Release Grief: 7 Gentle Ways to Move Through the Pain

Grief is one of those things you don’t truly understand until you’ve been cracked open by it. It’s not just sadness — it’s heartbreak with no expiration date. It’s quiet. Loud. Numbing. Exhausting. All-consuming.

And if you’re here reading this, I want you to know something before we go any further: you are not alone. I’ve lost several people who were incredibly important to me — people I thought I’d never have to live without. Their absence left holes I didn’t think I’d ever heal from. But over time, and with gentleness, I found ways to live with my grief — and even find peace alongside it.

When I lost my father I felt numb. It was so shocking. One minute he was laughing with us, the next, he was gone. We had no warning signs or anything. I feel like the wind had been knocked out of me. It took me years to make sense of it.

This article isn’t a quick-fix list. You don’t “get over” grief. You move with it. You create space for healing, for remembering, and for rebuilding your life with love and grace.

So, let me share with you what truly helped me — in case your heart needs a soft place to land, too.

💔 1. Acknowledge Your Grief (Without Shame)

First things first: there’s no right way to grieve.

Grief isn’t linear. It’s not something you check off a timeline like, “Okay, I cried for two weeks, now I’m done.” Some days you’ll feel functional, maybe even peaceful. And then something random — a song, a scent, a quiet moment — will punch you in the gut with loss all over again.

And that’s okay.

I used to shame myself for still being sad “too long” after losing my father. I thought healing meant being okay all the time. It doesn’t. Healing means honoring what’s true for you, however long that takes.

Grief isn’t weakness. It’s proof you loved deeply.

✍️ 2. Journal the Pain Out of You

Journaling saved me in ways I can’t fully explain. When I was too angry to pray, too numb to talk, and too tired to explain how I was doing — I wrote.

And the page never judged me.

You don’t have to be “a writer.” Just be honest. Write what hurts. What confuses you. What memories keep replaying. Write letters to the person you lost. Write about the things left unsaid. Write about how unfair it feels.

Journaling gives your grief somewhere to go.
It turns spiraling thoughts into stories, release, and reflection. It’s like exhaling emotions that your body can’t hold anymore.

📝 Try this prompt:
“If I could say one more thing to them, it would be…”

Let the words come. Let the tears fall. Let the healing begin.

I created The Forget You Not Grief Journal to help you write through the pain, and hold close what still matters. Explore it here.

🌬️ 3. Breathe (Even When It Feels Pointless)

Grief lives in the body — tight chest, clenched jaw, tense shoulders. Your nervous system goes into survival mode.

I didn’t even realize I’d been holding my breath for days after my loss. Once I became aware of it, I started a simple breathwork practice that helped me ground myself — just enough to get through the next moment.

Try this:

• Inhale for 4 counts
• Hold for 2
• Exhale for 8

Do this for 2 minutes, even if you’re crying. Especially if you’re crying. Your body needs safety to grieve, and your breath helps bring that safety back.

🌱 4. Create a Daily Grief Ritual

One of the most healing things I did was to create a sacred routine around my grief. Not to dwell in it — but to honor it.

This could look like:

• Lighting a candle each morning in their memory
• Sitting in silence and talking to them
• Playing a song they loved
• Walking somewhere they would’ve enjoyed

A ritual gives your grief structure. It creates a container for your emotions so they don’t spill out everywhere all the time. It says, “I see you. I feel you. I’m still connected to you.”

📖 5. Read, Listen, Learn (But Only What Resonates)

After my losses, I devoured every book and podcast I could find about grief. Some were comforting. Others felt like they were written for a different kind of pain. That’s okay — grief is personal.

Here are a few books that helped me:

• The Grieving Brain by Mary-Frances O’Connor
• It’s OK That You’re Not OK by Megan Devine
• Grief Recovery For Adults by James LaVeck

You don’t need to read everything. But sometimes, the right words at the right time can make your grief feel a little less isolating.

🕊️ 6. Move Your Body With Compassion

I’m not talking about training for a marathon (unless that helps you). I’m talking about gentle movement that helps process stuck emotions. For me I used yoga. And I can’t tell you how helpful this was! 

Grief is heavy. It settles in your joints, your chest, your gut. Movement helps loosen that emotional weight.

• Stretch in the morning while playing calming music
• Go for slow walks in nature
• Try yin yoga or gentle shaking (trauma-release)

Every step you take is a way of saying, “I’m still here.”

💬 7. Speak Their Name

Say it out loud. Say it often.
Tell the stories. Share the memories. Laugh about the good stuff. Cry about the hard stuff.

Speaking their name doesn’t keep you stuck. It keeps them present in your heart.

I created a section in my grief journal titled “In Loving Memory” — a space for the things I didn’t want to forget. The way they laughed. Their favorite sayings. How they held their coffee mug. The weird thing they always ordered.

Grief is love with nowhere to go. Give it somewhere.

❤️ Final Thoughts: You Don’t Have to “Get Over It” — You Just Have to Get Through Today

You don’t need to be okay today.
You don’t need to fix anything.
You just need to keep breathing, keep feeling, and keep showing up for yourself.

I’ve been where you are — in the depths of it. And I promise, even if the pain never fully goes away, you will grow around it. You’ll learn to carry it more gently.

And if journaling speaks to your soul the way it did to mine, I created a guided grief journal just for you — filled with healing prompts, safe space, and loving support. It’s helped many women process the pain, honor their memories, and begin to heal.

💌 Click here to explore the Grief Journal.

You’re not alone. You’re grieving — and that means you loved deeply. What a beautiful thing.

Sending you softness,
Ci Ci Foster
The Balanced Body Blog