
And why that’s not a sign that anything is wrong with you.
Introduction: What No One Tells You About Grief
Why does grief feel so unpredictable?
One day, you're doing “okay.” The next, a song, a smell, or a quiet moment completely unravels you. You might wonder if you're grieving the "right way" or worry that you're going backwards. But here's the truth: grief doesn’t follow a straight line—especially if you've lived through trauma.
This post is here to help you understand why grief feels like such an emotional rollercoaster and how simply learning about it can be the first small step toward healing.
Why does grief feel so unpredictable?
One day, you're doing “okay.” The next, a song, a smell, or a quiet moment completely unravels you. You might wonder if you're grieving the "right way" or worry that you're going backwards. But here's the truth: grief doesn’t follow a straight line—especially if you've lived through trauma.
This post is here to help you understand why grief feels like such an emotional rollercoaster and how simply learning about it can be the first small step toward healing.
1. Grief Isn’t Just About Death — And It’s Not Linear
Grief is often described in hushed voices, like it's only something we feel after someone dies. But loss takes many forms. You can grieve:
A relationship that ended
A version of yourself you lost
A childhood you didn’t get
Safety, stability, or a sense of identity
If you’ve lived through trauma, you might have experienced all of these at once.
And while many people have heard of the five stages of grief (denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance), that model was never meant to be a fixed timeline. Grief is not neat. You don’t check off stages and then move on. It loops. It dips. It circles back when you least expect it.
And that’s not failure. That’s what being human looks like when your heart is trying to make sense of something that changed everything.
Grief is often described in hushed voices, like it's only something we feel after someone dies. But loss takes many forms. You can grieve:
A relationship that ended
A version of yourself you lost
A childhood you didn’t get
Safety, stability, or a sense of identity
If you’ve lived through trauma, you might have experienced all of these at once.
And while many people have heard of the five stages of grief (denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance), that model was never meant to be a fixed timeline. Grief is not neat. You don’t check off stages and then move on. It loops. It dips. It circles back when you least expect it.
And that’s not failure. That’s what being human looks like when your heart is trying to make sense of something that changed everything.
2. Why Grief Feels Like a Rollercoaster (According to Your Brain and Body)
There’s a reason grief feels so chaotic. It’s not just emotional—it’s neurological.
Here’s what might be happening under the surface:
There’s a reason grief feels so chaotic. It’s not just emotional—it’s neurological.
Here’s what might be happening under the surface:
- Your brain is recalibrating.
Grief literally changes how your brain functions. Areas linked to memory, emotional regulation, and even your sense of time can feel scrambled.
Grief literally changes how your brain functions. Areas linked to memory, emotional regulation, and even your sense of time can feel scrambled.
- Your nervous system is overwhelmed.
Especially if you have a trauma history, your body may already be in a state of hyper-alertness or shut-down. Grief adds another layer of stress, which can make emotions come in unpredictable waves.
Especially if you have a trauma history, your body may already be in a state of hyper-alertness or shut-down. Grief adds another layer of stress, which can make emotions come in unpredictable waves.
- You're experiencing emotional whiplash.
One minute, you're laughing at an old memory. The next, you're crying because they’re not here. This is normal. Joy and sorrow can (and do) coexist in grief.
All of this creates a rollercoaster effect—ups, downs, unexpected turns—and none of it means you’re doing it wrong.
One minute, you're laughing at an old memory. The next, you're crying because they’re not here. This is normal. Joy and sorrow can (and do) coexist in grief.
All of this creates a rollercoaster effect—ups, downs, unexpected turns—and none of it means you’re doing it wrong.
3. Trauma Makes Grief Heavier (And That’s Not Your Fault)
If you’ve experienced trauma, your grief might feel... different. Heavier. More confusing. And that’s because trauma changes how we process emotional pain.
Here’s how trauma complicates grief:
Delayed reactions: You may feel numb at first, only to be hit with intense emotions months (or years) later.
Overlapping losses: Grief now may trigger memories of past losses that never got processed.
Emotional shut-down: Avoiding grief is sometimes a survival response. It's not weakness—it's protection.
Disenfranchised grief: You might grieve things others don’t “allow” you to mourn—like a toxic parent or an abusive relationship.
When trauma and grief collide, it can feel like drowning in emotion and being completely numb at the same time. That’s not inconsistency. That’s your nervous system doing its best.
If you’ve experienced trauma, your grief might feel... different. Heavier. More confusing. And that’s because trauma changes how we process emotional pain.
Here’s how trauma complicates grief:
Delayed reactions: You may feel numb at first, only to be hit with intense emotions months (or years) later.
Overlapping losses: Grief now may trigger memories of past losses that never got processed.
Emotional shut-down: Avoiding grief is sometimes a survival response. It's not weakness—it's protection.
Disenfranchised grief: You might grieve things others don’t “allow” you to mourn—like a toxic parent or an abusive relationship.
When trauma and grief collide, it can feel like drowning in emotion and being completely numb at the same time. That’s not inconsistency. That’s your nervous system doing its best.
4. Understanding Your Grief Pattern Helps You Feel More Grounded
One of the most powerful things you can do for yourself is to simply start noticing your grief—without judgment.
Here’s what that might look like:
Track your waves. Start a grief journal. Even just writing “today was a heavy day” can help you spot patterns over time.
Practice gentle awareness. When a wave hits, try naming it: “This is grief. This is part of healing.”
Talk it out (if you want). Sharing grief with someone safe can make it feel less lonely—even if nothing gets “solved.”
Recognize emotional layering. You might be grieving multiple things at once. That’s okay.
Learning how your grief shows up doesn’t make the pain go away. But it can make it feel less frightening. Less like a storm, more like weather you’ve learned to carry.
One of the most powerful things you can do for yourself is to simply start noticing your grief—without judgment.
Here’s what that might look like:
Track your waves. Start a grief journal. Even just writing “today was a heavy day” can help you spot patterns over time.
Practice gentle awareness. When a wave hits, try naming it: “This is grief. This is part of healing.”
Talk it out (if you want). Sharing grief with someone safe can make it feel less lonely—even if nothing gets “solved.”
Recognize emotional layering. You might be grieving multiple things at once. That’s okay.
Learning how your grief shows up doesn’t make the pain go away. But it can make it feel less frightening. Less like a storm, more like weather you’ve learned to carry.
5. Gentle Reminders for the Road Ahead
Here’s what I want you to hold onto, especially on the hard days:
There is no “correct” timeline. Take your time. Slow is not stuck.
All feelings are valid. Even the ones that contradict each other.
You’re not weak for feeling this deeply. It means you loved. It means you’re healing.
You deserve support. Whether it’s a friend, a journal, or a professional—your pain matters.
Grief asks a lot of us. But it’s also a sign of the depth with which we’ve lived. And loving deeply? That’s something to be proud of.
Here’s what I want you to hold onto, especially on the hard days:
There is no “correct” timeline. Take your time. Slow is not stuck.
All feelings are valid. Even the ones that contradict each other.
You’re not weak for feeling this deeply. It means you loved. It means you’re healing.
You deserve support. Whether it’s a friend, a journal, or a professional—your pain matters.
Grief asks a lot of us. But it’s also a sign of the depth with which we’ve lived. And loving deeply? That’s something to be proud of.
If this post resonated with you, consider subscribing for future blog entries on trauma, grief, and emotional healing. You deserve to feel informed and supported.
A Gentle Reminder
This post is for educational purposes only. I’m not a licensed therapist, and this is not a substitute for mental health assessment or treatment. If you’re struggling, please consider reaching out to a qualified mental health professional in your area. You deserve support.