February 20th came, and there was a moment...maybe even three that day...when the heaviness of my grief shifted. It seemed to fade, and I couldn't quite place it. Lately, that heaviness had been showing up right below my heart, then shifting into my stomach, rotating between those two residences. It had become a familiar character.

When I joined Grounded Grief I was excited to be part of a team looking to expand its support for youth and families in the Portland area. During a flurry of enthusiastic brainstorming, our Founder & Practice Lead, Katherine Hatch, and I landed on what seemed like a simple idea: a monthly blog dedicated to childhood bereavement.

The New Year is a time when many of us are fed that clarity is supposed to arrive, a new leaf is to be turned, and that our grief may feel different or better. Yet for most who are grieving, New Year's can feel quite the opposite. ​

There's something about walking through the woods that changes how we hold our grief. Maybe it's the rhythm of our footsteps on the trail. Maybe it's the way sunlight filters through the trees, or how the forest holds space without asking us to explain ourselves. Whatever it is, we've learned that some of our deepest healing happens when we take grief outside.

There's a question we've been hearing a lot lately from clients, from friends, from people in our community: How do I hold space for my own grief when the world is falling apart? It's a valid question. An important one. And one that deserves more than a quick answer or a platitude about self-care. So we're creating space to explore it together.

Join us at 7 PM on Monday, January 26, 2026 for the kind of happy hour you didn't know you needed: one where being sad is not only okay, it's the whole point.

The animal folk have always shown us the way. If you've ever lived with a dog during a difficult season, you know they have an uncanny ability to sense when something shifts in the household. They feel the tension, the sadness, the weight of what we're carrying—even when we think we're hiding it well.

Our PDX Office Just Got Even More Welcoming | There's something special about a handmade sign that says "you are welcome here." And thanks to the incredible craftsmanship of Livy Long and her partner Marcelo, our Portland office now has exactly that.

We're thrilled to announce the launch of Moving Grief Together—an outdoor walking support group starting January 2nd at Meadowbrook Local Park in Maryland. If grief has been sitting heavy lately—from loss, change, loneliness, or simply carrying too much—you're invited to walk with us.

The holidays are here. And for many of us, they're not exactly merry and bright. Maybe you're grieving a loss. Maybe you're navigating a breakup. Maybe you're just feeling the weight of loneliness or the general global angst that seems to be everywhere right now. Whatever it is, you're carrying something heavy into this season, and the pressure to be joyful about it all can feel suffocating. So we're doing something a little different this year.

On this day dedicated to Children's Grief Awareness, we are thrilled to announce that Lindsay Wooster-Halberg, MSW, LCSW has joined our team as Grounded Grief's first therapist dedicated to children and adolescents.

Children's Grief Awareness Day: A Reflection on Real Conversations | Today is Children's Grief Awareness Day, and in honor of that, I'm sharing a previous post about my kiddo's first fish death.

Join the "Writing Through Grief" workshop starting November 7th, a collaboration between Grounded Grief and NoVa Grief Support, designed to help individuals navigate their emotions through creative expression.

Your Grief Has Something to Tell You. I think a lot about my relationship to grief—both my own personal losses and the grief I encounter related to world events and the ongoing struggles in our country. I think a lot about my relationship to grief—both my own personal losses and the grief I encounter related to world events and the ongoing struggles in our country. And here's what I've come to understand: My ability to be with my grief directly informs my ability to discern

Grief Is Not a Problem to Be Solved | For those of you who are mourning the death of a beloved person, home, dream, identity, or relationship...this is for you 🫀. We're thrilled to announce Befriending Our Grief—a 4-week, in-person grief group where you can find community and discover ways to move through your grief rather than drowning in it alone.

We are glad to announce the start of our In-Person Adult Grief Group in Washington, D.C., beginning Tuesday, February 18th. If you're navigating the death of someone you love, this group offers a space to be witnessed, supported, and understood by others who know what it's like to carry loss.

My Updated Coping Plan as of February 2025 I admit that since November, I have coped by keeping my head down, not writing much, frenetically adding activities to the schedule, eating way too much licorice and cheese, and not carving any time to be still, to read, or to look up. Sound familiar? When the Universe Gifts You a Pause Three weeks ago, my 8-year-old fractured her ankle. She earned herself crutches and a boot. I earned myself hours of cancelling all of our activities

Grief = change + loss. And there is so much of that in the air right now. On Wednesday, November 6th, join conceptual artist & musician Licity Collins and Grounded Grief founder Katherine Hatch for a 1-hour online workshop centered on their shared passion of creativity within a grief process.

Sometimes it's hard to find a place to process the grief of those things that don't fit easily into traditional grief group spaces. Are you grieving a loss of an ability or a major life shift? Are you grieving the state of the world? Our climate? Are you grieving a life transition? Are you grieving the way your life is not what you expected it to be? Are you grieving something that is just hard to name? If any of these questions resonate, this workshop is for you.

Sometimes what we need most in our grief is connection. A space where we can be witnessed, where our losses are acknowledged, where we're not alone in what we're carrying.