My heart hurts.
I know I’m not alone in that.
Lately, the world has felt loud, unstable, and relentless. There is grief in the headlines, grief in our communities, grief in our bodies, and grief in the therapy room.
There is the grief of death, of course. Our personal losses. And there is also the grief of what has been altered, threatened, or lost without a death occurring at all: safety, trust, belonging, stability, shared humanity, and hope for the future.
This broader understanding of loss has shaped my work for years. In Navigating Loss, I write about grief not only as a response to death, but also to the many non-death losses that change us and make it impossible to return to the way things were before.
My colleague Darcy Harris has helped give language to this reality. In her work on political grief, she describes grief that emerges through political ideologies, policies, oppression, and the actions of those in power. More recently, she has written about sociopolitical grief, and she has also explored grief in relation to our wider collective and environmental realities in Snapshots: Grief, Extended Reality, Hope.
Naming this matters
Sometimes what intensifies our distress is not only what is happening, but the sense that we should be able to carry on as if none of it touches us. We keep going. We keep scrolling. We keep absorbing. We try to override the ache.
But the nervous system does not work that way.
It responds to threat, uncertainty, heartbreak, and overload. And when we are grieving, or when we are holding space for others who are grieving, that load can become even heavier.
So I want to say this plainly.
Sometimes I feel powerless too.
Sometimes I read the news and feel that familiar tightening in my chest. Sometimes I feel grief as sorrow. Sometimes as anger. Sometimes as exhaustion. Sometimes as the ache of being both a citizen who cares and a grief therapist who witnesses suffering every day.
And when I feel that way, I come back to what I know.
Activism helps.
Taking breaks from the news helps.
Leaning into my meditation practice helps.
Community helps.
Nature helps.
None of these erase the pain. None of them fix the world overnight. But they help me stay present without being consumed. They help me remain human. They help me keep showing up.
Why This Matters in Grief
For me, this is where we begin: by resetting the nervous system.
In the Mindfulness & Grief System, Step 1 is conscious relaxation. It is the intentional practice of calming and regulating the nervous system, releasing physical tension, and decreasing emotional distress. Before we can think clearly, process deeply, or respond wisely, we need to help the body come out of alarm. We need to create enough steadiness inside ourselves to stay present to what hurts without being overwhelmed by it.
That is not avoidance. It is foundation.
Grief is not only emotional. It is physical too. It can show up as tension, fatigue, anxiety, sleeplessness, brain fog, irritability, and a sense that your whole system is on edge. In Living with Grief, I describe grief as something that can affect us emotionally, mentally, and physically, and I offer mindfulness-based practices to help people cope with the pain of loss and rebuild mind, body, and spirit.
When your system is overloaded, insight is not always the first need. Sometimes the first need is steadiness. Sometimes the first need is helping the body feel a little safer. That is why resetting the nervous system matters so much in grief. It gives us a place to begin.
Why This Matters for Helping Professionals
Those of us who support grieving people are not standing outside this moment. We are living in it while supporting others through it.
We may be carrying our own grief, our clients’ pain, our communities’ fear, and the moral strain of witnessing a hurting world. We may look calm on the outside while our nervous systems are working very hard underneath.
We need care too.
We need practices that bring us back into the body. We need pauses. We need boundaries. We need community. We need places where we do not have to be the strong one all the time.
Resetting the nervous system is not separate from the work. It is part of the work. The more grounded we are, the more present, compassionate, and skillful we can be with others. Not perfect. Just present.
Why This Matters for All of Us as Citizens
Being informed is important. Being engaged is important. Caring deeply is important.
But being constantly flooded is not the same as being effective.
We need enough inner steadiness to act with clarity rather than collapse. We need enough regulation to stay engaged for the long haul. We need enough space inside ourselves to respond instead of only react.
Resetting the nervous system does not mean turning away from reality.
It means creating the conditions that let us meet reality with more presence, compassion, and choice.
That is one reason activism can be so important. It gives shape to helplessness. It offers movement, connection, and purpose. It reminds us that we are not alone. And when we pair engagement with rest, limits, and care, we are more able to keep going.
What Helps Me Come Back to Myself
When the world feels like too much, I return to simple things.
I return to meditation.
I return to people who feel like home.
I return to nature, to the steadying wisdom of trees, sky, water, and birdsong.
I return to the body.
I return to breath.
I return to what is here, now, in this one moment.
This is how I keep from abandoning myself.
And maybe that is the reminder we all need right now.
If you are grieving, tend to your nervous system.
If you are helping others grieve, tend to your nervous system.
If you are trying to stay awake and compassionate in a hurting world, tend to your nervous system.
My heart hurts. Maybe yours does too.
So let this be a reminder: pause. Breathe. Step outside. Let community hold you. Take the news break. Choose the practice. Engage in the work that matters to you. Honor your limits. Begin again.
That is not weakness.
That is wisdom.
Simple Ways to Reset the Nervous System
When the world feels like too much, it helps to remember that resetting the nervous system does not have to be solemn, still, or serious. Sometimes it looks like meditation. Sometimes it looks like laughter. Sometimes it looks like getting off the couch, stepping into the shower, or letting your body remember that relief is still possible.
Often, the most effective practices are simple ones that help you come back into your body, back into the present moment, and back into some small sense of steadiness.
Here are some ways to begin:
- Take a longer exhale than inhale.
- Place both feet on the floor and feel the support beneath you.
- Relax your jaw.
- Unclench your hands.
- Drop your shoulders.
- Put one hand on your heart and one on your belly.
- Drink a glass of water slowly.
- Eat something nourishing.
- Step outside and look at the sky.
- Stand in the sun for a few minutes.
- Listen for the farthest sound you can hear.
- Name five things you can see.
- Take a short walk without your phone.
- Go to an exercise class and let other people carry some of the momentum for you.
- Stretch your body for five minutes.
- Dance in your kitchen to one song.
- Take a shower and let the water help your body reset.
- Wash your face slowly and pay attention to the sensation.
- Wrap yourself in a blanket.
- Sit against a wall or in a supportive chair.
- Touch something with texture, a stone, a soft sweater, the bark of a tree.
- Hold a warm mug of tea or coffee in both hands.
- Light a candle and pause for one full minute.
- Step into nature, even briefly, and let your senses meet something living.
Watch something funny and let yourself laugh without guilt. - Text someone safe and say, “I’m having a hard day.”
- Ask someone you trust to sit with you, even if you do not want to talk.
- Turn off the news for the evening.
- Put your phone in another room for 20 minutes.
- Repeat a simple phrase such as, “Right now, I am safe enough.”
- Pray, meditate, or sit in silence if that helps you feel held.
- Cry without trying to explain or control it.
- Write down what you are feeling instead of carrying it all in your body.
- Make something with your hands, soup, bread, a collage, a garden row, a messy sketch.
- Pet your dog, cuddle your cat, or spend a few minutes with an animal.
- Open a window and let fresh air into the room.
- Lie on the floor and feel the ground hold you.
- Do one small, ordinary task, fold towels, water a plant, wash a dish, to remind yourself that this moment can be lived one step at a time.
Not every practice will help every person every time. That is okay. The goal is not to do all of them. The goal is to notice what helps your body soften, settle, or feel a little more supported.
A Guided Meditation to Help
Sometimes resetting the nervous system is not dramatic. Sometimes it is simply the moment you stop bracing.
And sometimes what you need is support for the emotions themselves. If that is where you are today, you might find comfort in my Working with Difficult Emotions meditation.
