How to Find Happiness While Grieving
They told me time would heal.
They told me to move on.
They told me happiness meant the pain would stop.
They were wrong about it all.
Every night I sat on my bedroom floor.
Crying. In silence.
For years, I convinced myself that if I kept moving, kept working, kept “healing,” the grief would eventually subside and I would feel happy.
It didn’t.
Instead, the grief intensified. It became angrier. More desperate for my attention.
Until one night, I stopped running.
I sat on the floor and let every bit of it wash over me. The rage. The guilt. The crushing weight of knowing she was gone and I was still here.
I gave up control and stopped pushing toward healing.
I listened silently to my grief tell me to “slow down and accept that you are broken–for now.”
I was pushing too hard, trying to be a healing all-star. And in my striving I burned out and watched things get worse.
But once I slowed down and accepted where I was broken, something shifted.
Not the grief. That remained.
It was how I was experiencing my pain. Instead of feeling like my heart was going to collapse in, I felt a gentle hand inside wrapped around my heart, ensuring it continued beating. My thoughts shifted from self-hatred to moments of self-compassion. Not all at once. It was a few seconds here and there, but steadily increasing over time.
I was no longer striving for happiness like it was a hard-earned trophy for conquering grief.
Grief and happiness are not opposites. They are not emotions you feel to the exclusion of the other.
They’re both experiences, both directions you walk simultaneously.
You can be drowning in grief and still choose to move towards the shore.
What is Happiness and Grief?
Happiness is not a fleeting emotion you chase.
It is not a permanent state of bliss.
it is not the absence of negative emotions.
Happiness is not a destination, it is a direction; an ongoing experience with natural ups and downs that morph and change over time.
Fear, anger, and sadness are natural necessary parts of being a human. They are essential for survival. A truly happy life includes these emotions, it does not eliminate them.
This is why grief and happiness can co-exist.
Both are experiences, not emotions.
It is important to understand that grief is not the event that happened to you, whether from loss of life, relationship, circumstance, or possession.
It is what is happening in you.
Once I understood that grief was happening in me, I was able to take agency over it. But agency is not the same as control. You can’t control your grief. You can only practice the three components of happiness while carrying it: enjoyment, satisfaction, and meaning. (credit to happiness researcher Arthur Brooks)
Similar to how your body needs three macronutrients: carbs, fats, and protein.
Enjoyment. Touching Joy Without Betrayal
The waiter, desperately trying to navigate the tight space, bumped into my chair, knocking my coat to the ground.
“I’m so sorry sir.”
I nodded, “no worries.” I picked up the coat, draped across the back of the chair and continued the conversation with my friend.
In that moment, the only thing that mattered was our conversation. I was engrossed. I was present.
But mostly, I was not constantly looking towards the door waiting for Ariana to walk in.
It was the first time I realized I was enjoying myself.
Enjoyment is more than mere pleasure, it is about having positive experiences of life that includes savoring, appreciation, and presence.
I was present with my friend, smiling. Happy, even. I cried myself to sleep that night, but for years, I believed staying in pain was the only way to stay close to Ariana. I found out that day that I was wrong.
The joy I began to find in life no longer felt like betrayal of my grief, because I was experiencing it along side it. I was seeing proof that my capacity to feel my grief AND enjoyment were growing.
It takes time, but taking even one or two seconds to notice when you are appreciating something, or able to be fully present in the moment, is how you begin to build your capacity.
The truth in grief is that you can enjoy moments and still miss them.
Both are true.
Satisfaction. Building Through the Pain
My eyes began to blur. The hallway was closing in with each step I took. I felt my heart drop to the back of my chest. And my hands shook.
I couldn’t catch my breath.
I didn’t know what to do.
So I panicked and ran back up to the hotel room.
I spent years at war with myself, trying to remove the broken parts instead of accepting them. That war nearly killed me. And in my striving, I burned out. Hit bottom and watched the walls literally collapse around me.
I was supposed to remain in that hotel for 5 days. That was my first day.
I packed and flew home the next morning.
I began to accept my lack of control in my grief. To start developing compassion for myself and what I saw that was broken.
I had to reframe my thinking from, “I’m broken. Period.” to “I’m partially broken. For now.”
Acute grief is crushing and overwhelming at best. It almost always feels intolerable.
You cannot think, feel, or imagine anything other than the current physical and emotional pain you are buried in.
That is normal.
But, in those moments, it is critical to be still and quiet. Feel the entirety of the pain, despite so badly wanting to numb yourself.
You have to endure pain on top of the pain you are already experiencing. It feels like a cruel joke, I know.
But yes. You must take on more pain.
As you do this more and more, you will be expanding your capacity to hold difficult emotions, like a ballon that never pops, being filled with water.
When I was able to finally accept myself as-is, I started to see myself differently while enduring the hardship of learning to grow through my grief. It let me look back at where I was one month, one year, three years ago and see the growth that came from the endurance and perseverance of staying in the work.
When you make the hard choice to grow in your grief and re-build your life, you are putting in the effort and progress required to feel satisfied. Required to see change.
And this expansion will serve you throughout your journey with grief and moving you towards a life of happiness.
But it all starts with commitment. You have to accept that you will need to endure pain, again.
If this feels too overwhelming, that is okay. It is.
But remaining stuck in your grief is far more painful than confronting it.
Meaning. Finding the Gift in Your Grief
I pushed my arms into the body of my hoodie, attempting to take it off without exposing my stomach and chest. The office was so hot. It was always so hot.
My voice muffled, talking through my hoodie, going on and on about how shitty I felt.
I pulled the material over my head and slammed it on the couch.
A pause in the conversation.
“You need to stop swimming in your grief. You are using it as an excuse now. It’s time to head to shore.” My therapist said.
My face was blank. My lips squeezed holding in the words that played loudly in my head, “F*CK YOU! You don’t know. How could you say that. You don’t know what this is like. I don’t want to feel like I’m constantly drowning. F*ck you. I’m not using my grief as an excuse.”
She let her words linger heavy in the air. Dank, hot, musty air.
My face softened. I shook my head. Closed my eyes and felt the rush of tears overtake me.
“I don’t know how to stop.” I admitted.
After that moment, I knew the mission: swim to shore. So I went back to my toolkit containing journaling, gratitude practice, mediation, MORE therapy, and reframing. All of it.
And slowly, my arms began to move and my feet began to kick. The closer I got shore, the clearer a vision of a box resting neatly on the river banks.
Climbing up, shaking myself dry, I picked up the neatly wrapped box. I pulled at the ribbon, then ripped the paper off. When I opened it, I found something I never expected to find–a gift from my grief.
It was not the absence of pain.
It was not the “completion” of my journey with grief.
It was the meaning I found in my grief once I was able to connect my suffering to something bigger than myself.
Your gift will be different from mine. But be assured, we all receive unique gifts from our grief, should we choose to swim to shore.
When you dive deep into your suffering, you will inevitably find the connection to it’s purpose. It is when the question you are struggling with changes from “why did this happen to me?” to “what do I do with what has happened?”
Grief is Lifelong. Don’t be impatient.
I spent years being impatient. And it all lead me right back to collapse.
I had to learn to be patient and listen intently to what my grief was trying to tell me.
I had to accept that nights, sitting on my bedroom floor crying, was actually healing because I was letting myself experience the depth of my pain.
It was exactly what I needed to do, in order to learn how to swim to shore.
The many moments I sat in that pain, helped me realize that I was to serve others in their grief. To help them find support and transformation.
As you practice the three components of happiness (enjoyment, satisfaction, meaning), remember that you do not do so sequentially. It is an ongoing, simultaneous practice.
Eventually, you build up enough of the experience of happiness that you suddenly realize your relationship to grief has evolved.
The path from collapse to calling took years and it took a complete rebuild of my identity.
I still feel it’s sting, but with it I feel deeper love, enjoyment, satisfaction, meaning and freedom. All things that show proof of a happy life.
I know it can feel reckless to talk about happiness in grief, but waking up in the morning, looking in the mirror, and knowing exactly who you are, why you are here, and why you suffered is among the greatest freedoms you could ever have.
With tenderness,
- CJ
P.S. If this resonates and you’re ready to do the work of growing through your grief (not just surviving it), I have a few ways I can help:
1-on-1 Grief Coaching: For those who want personalized guidance rebuilding identity and finding your happiness again.
Free Identity After Loss Workshop: Learn how to grieve who you used to be and find the freedom to enjoy your life again.
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This was deeply grounding, CJ. The way you frame happiness and grief as parallel paths, not opposites, felt both honest and relieving. Especially powerful was the reminder that joy doesn’t betray grief; it expands our capacity to carry it. Thank you for naming something so many people feel but struggle to articulate.