I’ve been putting in a lot of effort to ensure that my experiences with grief don’t overshadow my Christian lifestyle blog. But, it seems I cannot help it. It’s my blog. It’s part of my journey. It’s part of my “right now.” How can I totally eliminate it from here?
I don’t think I can.
Don’t worry, I don’t plan to write about it much.
However, in the spirit of pure authenticity, my goal is to uplift and encourage Christian women with my own experiences and life lessons.
I’m struggling. I needed to say that.
An Explanation: “What do I mean by Compounded Grief?”
This part of the post will make me sound a lot smarter than I am. Trustfully, I’ve done a lot of research on grief and my journey.
I had never heard of compounded grief until my brother passed away soon after my mother. A compassionate and intelligent woman named Marchita texted me, saying something like, “I’m praying for you as you navigate your compounded grief.”
Actually, I thought she made the term up. *chuckle*
Compounded grief, also known as cumulative or complex grief, refers to the intensified emotional and psychological response that occurs when multiple losses are experienced within a short period of time, leaving little or no time to process each individual loss (Neimeyer, R. A., 2000).
Oh boy, is that my story!
Just so you know, I am not just talking about the earthly deaths of my family members either. Most people have no clue of the totality of my loss in the last two years.
I keep that private because it is.
Anyway, did you know that research shows compound grief can overwhelm typical coping mechanisms, potentially leading to prolonged grief disorder or complicated grief symptoms.
Wild, right?
At the risk of sounding redundant, check out how the American Psychological Association describes this kind of grief.
It defines it as “experiencing several losses simultaneously or in rapid succession, which can lead to an accumulation of unresolved sorrow and hinder the normal grieving process.”
Not relevant to you now?
The thing about this topic (grieving) is that if it is not relevant to you now, it will be in the future.
I’m sorry, but no doubt, at some point in your life, you will experience loss.
I’m not speaking it on you; I’m just speaking the truth.
Someone you love will leave in some form. They may move away. They may leave this planet, or they may just distance themselves from you for some reason.
It’s life.
Years ago, I heard my mom say something, and it has stuck with me ever since. She simply said, “Good or bad, nothing stays the same.”
I have never forgotten that.
The inevitable changes that will come will certainly lead you to experience some form of grief.
What I’ve learned during the last year
Grief isn’t tidy.
It doesn’t follow a schedule or stick to one emotion at a time.
You laugh.
You cry. You get angry. It’s all part of it.
When I lost my mother and brother in the same year, I cycled through so many emotions… sometimes, it felt like I was experiencing them all simultaneously! Grieving them was emotionally exhausting.
Then there was the void.
No, a gaping, abysmal, immeasurable hole left by their existence.
Pretending it was not there was idiotic.
No Quick Fix Found.
As Christians, sometimes, we don’t want to face things, so we spiritualize them. I tried to do that with my compound grief. I attempted to drown it in scripture and suffocate it in theology.
It wouldn’t expire.
Grieving is like the healing of a cut; you have to go through the days of stinging pain in order for it to heal.
Compounded grief was not something I could pray away. Nor could I “fake” my way through it.
Do you know what I mean?
Don’t judge me, please.
I’m being 100% real here.
Straight, with no chaser.
Hey, I know I’m not the only one carrying heavy losses.
The stories you’ve shared, emailed, or told me confirm that grief is a visitor that touches the lives of so many.
So, I want to share my journey of compounded grief recovery in a way that is honest, faith-friendly, and structured enough to offer hope.
I pray I model transparency. I pray I model honesty, and I pray I model bravery.
Let’s get to it.
Let’s talk about compounded grief.
If you’re grieving, I see you. I understand.
Let’s walk through this together.
The phases I experienced may be a good starting point.
Your compounded grief journey may be different from mine, and that’s ok.
If you are looking for a great book. I’m reading this.
Jerry Sittser understands compounded grief. I have no words as to how much this book has helped me thus far.
Hey, ignore my raggedy, unpainted finger in the pic. Again, I’m a work in progress.
Phase 1 for Compounded Grief: Shock & Survival (Weeks 1–4)
If you are anything like me, in the beginning, it feels like your heart is both shattered and numb.
You can go from crying to staring blankly at the wall.
That’s normal.
This is the survival zone, and it’s not about fixing anything—it’s about making it through each day.
Some days, the pain was so hard for me, I wasn’t sure I’d make it. The motional grief was so intense, it felt like physical pangs.
What helped me:
- Giving myself permission to rest. Here are ways to rest. I love how Calm’s site breaks it down. Click that link.
- Eating something small, even if it was just toast or chips.
- Sitting in silence or praying when I didn’t have the words.
- Journaling with simple questions: “What do I feel right now?”
Psalm 34:18 says, “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted.” Even when I couldn’t feel Him, I trusted that He was there.
Phase 2: Sitting in the Sadness (Weeks 5–8)
After the shock faded, the boundless weight of sadness rolled in.
This phase hurt me the most. I missed their voices, their laughter, and the routines we had.
Every memory felt like a paper cut on my soul. Time was the alcohol poured over it…second by second. Time and time again.
Here’s what helped me keep moving:
- Talking to a grief counselor (I’ve talked about Tim Matthia before) who didn’t try to fix me.
- Listening to gospel music that reminds me of eternity. Like “Hymn of Heaven” by Phil Wickham
- Asking myself: “What do I miss the most?” and letting the tears come. Next, I journaled those things so I wouldn’t forget them.
- Telling friends what I really needed, even if it was space.
Matthew 5:4: “Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.”
This comfort sometimes came through people: family, friends, and my church family. Sometimes, at my lowest, Sonya’s hospitality team [from my church] would send me something yummy. Other times, through peace that made no sense.
If you follow Jesus Christ – and I don’t mean being a person who goes to church – you know what I’m talking about. Intimacy with Christ is different from religious traditions.
I won’t open that can of worms.
Phase 3: Remembering & Honoring (Weeks 9–12)
I realized I didn’t want to just grieve my loved ones—I wanted to honor them.
That shift helped me find light in the darkness. I started creating things that reminded me of their impact on my life.
My healing actions included:
- Making a memory box with photos, cards, and small keepsakes.
- Writing letters to both of them, pouring out my heart.
- Telling stories about them at family dinners.
- Journaling about what they taught me.
Ecclesiastes 3:1 reminds us, “There is a time for everything…” There’s a time to mourn, and also a time to celebrate who they were.
Phase 4: Reconnection with Life (Weeks 13–16)
Getting back into life wasn’t easy.
There was guilt, fear, and uncertainty.
But one day, I realized: I didn’t survive to stay stuck. Healing meant returning to life with their love still wrapped around me.
I am a little late on this one. But I’m now taking the steps to return to the world of work. To give back to my community.
My steps are slow, but I’m moving forward.
What this phase looked (and looks) like:
- Going for walks without music—just letting my soul breathe.
- Trying small goals like calling a friend or cooking again.
- Resuming my ministry work in gentle, slow steps.
- Letting joy back in without feeling like a traitor to my grief.
Isaiah 43:19 says, “See, I am doing a new thing…”
I clung (am clinging) to that verse, believing newness would come in time.
Phase 5: Creating Legacy & Meaning (Weeks 17–20)
This phase brought purpose. I started asking, “How can I carry their legacy forward?” I began to see how their lives still had influence through mine.
Legacy-building ideas:
- Acting in a ministry that my mother loved. Stay tuned!
- Donating to a cause my brother believed in.
- Sharing their wisdom in my blogs and podcast.
- Starting traditions that keep their memories alive.
Proverbs 10:7: “The memory of the righteous is a blessing.”
Every act of legacy became part of my healing.
Phase 6: Ongoing Renewal & Reflection
Grief doesn’t end. It evolves. Now, I continue to reflect, remember, and rebuild. Some days are still heavy, but most are manageable. I don’t try to “move on”—I move forward, with my grief beside me, not in front of me.
Now, I focus on:
- Checking in with myself monthly: How am I really doing? Relapses are real!
- I want to keep healthy annual traditions in their honor. Not sure what those will be yet.
- Helping others navigate grief. Not yet, but I hope to!
- Staying connected to God in honest, authentic ways.
Romans 15:13: “May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace…” That’s the prayer I speak over myself now.
For You, Dear Reader
If you’re grieving right now, I want to encourage you: healing is possible for us.
We won’t always feel this lost as cuttingly as we do now.
You don’t have to do it perfectly. Just keep going.
Start here:
- Journal what you’re feeling today.
- Reach out to someone safe.
- Read a verse that speaks to your soul.
- Rest when you need to.
You are not alone in your grief. You are not forgotten. And your story is still being written.
So is mine.
If this post blessed you, share it with someone else who might need it.
Or leave a comment below.
Let’s heal together, one honest step at a time.
With grace, humility, and love,
Terri
Sources:
- Neimeyer, R. A. (2000). Lessons of Loss: A Guide to Coping. Center for the Study of Loss and Transition.
- Worden, J. W. (2009). Grief Counseling and Grief Therapy: A Handbook for the Mental Health Practitioner (4th ed.). Springer Publishing.
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