Grieving Who We Were: Finding Space for the Soul in a Noisy World
In the quiet lives of our ancestors, grief was a sacred and communal experience. Before the world became so fast, so loud, and so connected by social media, we were given the space to mourn — to simply be with our sorrow. There was respect, empathy, and compassion surrounding the grieving process. People understood that grief was not something to be rushed or fixed; it was a passage to be honored.
But today, in a world flooded with constant notifications, opinions, and curated snapshots of happiness, grief has become harder to hold. We live in an age where space — real emotional space — is rarely given. The moment we share pain or loss online, it is often met with rushed advice, surface-level comments, or worse, silence and avoidance. Social media has eroded not only our understanding of grief but our collective capacity to sit with it, to allow someone the dignity of their process.
When most people hear the word grief, they think of the death of a loved one. But grief is so much more than the loss of someone physically present. It is the quiet, aching sorrow of losing parts of ourselves — the versions of us we no longer are, the dreams we let go, the identities we shed.
I have been through this myself. I had to grieve the loss of me — the version of myself I clung to, the version I thought I was supposed to be, the mask I wore for so long to please others, to succeed, to fit in. Somewhere along the way, I stopped living as my authentic self. And when I began to awaken to that truth, it wasn’t just a realization; it was a death.
I grieved the years I spent disconnected from my soul. I grieved the habits, relationships, and patterns that once gave me comfort but were no longer serving me. And that grief was real. It was painful. It was messy. It was lonely at times — especially in a world that doesn’t often understand or make room for grieving something other than physical loss.
Studies have shown that social media can both help and hinder the grieving process. On one hand, it can offer community and connection; on the other, it can create compassion fatigue — where people become desensitized to the suffering they scroll past every day. The online disinhibition effect also means people sometimes respond with insensitivity or judgment they would never show face-to-face. Grief, whether for a person or for oneself, needs something slower, something more human, something deeper.
So how do we reclaim the soulful process of grieving in this noisy world?
We start by giving ourselves permission to grieve — not just for the people we’ve lost, but for the versions of ourselves we’ve outgrown. We set boundaries with our digital spaces, knowing that our healing does not require a public audience. We surround ourselves with people who can hold space, people who don’t rush to fix us but simply sit with us in our sorrow.
And we practice compassion — for ourselves, and for others. We remember that grief has no timeline. It has no perfect expression. It is as unique as the soul that carries it.
In remembering how our ancestors mourned — in quiet, in ritual, in presence — we can find our own path back to authentic healing. We can grieve fully, not only for what we have lost outside of us, but for what we are reclaiming within us.
If you are in that place — grieving not just who you’ve lost, but who you’ve been — know this: you are not alone. And the space you need to heal is still possible, even in a world that moves too fast. Find it. Protect it. And let yourself be transformed by the process.
I have spent the last several years working with my guides in shamanic journeys to feel through this process, I know this is the start of helping you in processing your grief.
At Danvers Wellness Center we know and understand the depth of this process having gone through it and we welcome it into our world as it’s a part of who we are and it’s a part of the human experience.
If you need help and a community to express your grief we are here for you.
Mike
