The Moment that the Grief Lifts (And An Argument for Grief as Spiral, not Waves)
- Katherine Hatch
- 14 minutes ago
- 5 min read
THE GROUNDED GRIEF NEWSLETTER | FEBRUARY 2026
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. I could only really choke down soup, and once in a while, some ice cream. (I found out where it went a few days later, by the way: my massage therapist found it embedded in my diaphragm...sticky, persistent, and stubborn. The fascia had been clenched for a long time.)
When the lift happened, I noticed myself reacting the same way so many of my clients do — with a sudden rush of questions that came fast and layered:
Where did it go?
Does it come back, and how do I prepare for it?
Who am I if I don't feel it in this moment?
When it returns, will I pay for this moment of reprieve?
What does it mean that I was able to laugh at that show?
What does it mean that I woke up thinking of things that could be possible?
When you are in acute grief, these moments of reprieve can be startling. Sometimes grievers can even be hard on themselves, layering these lighter experiences with what I call Disloyalty — the phenomenon of feeling shitty for feeling some "okay-ness." It is one of the quietest and most common sources of suffering I witness in my clients, and one of the most unnecessary.
I, too, had to remind myself that February 20th wasn't the grief leaving. That reminder brought up a complex mix of relief and even more grief.
The Grief Spiral
February 20th was simply a reflection of grief's innate desire to move, shift, circulate, and cycle.
Grief can feel maddening, especially in a culture that defines progress as a clean, consistent line trending upward. The more I do this work with others and live it myself, the more I reject the idea of a linear grief process. It doesn't follow a particular set of hopes, expectations, rules, or norms.
One reason for this is that our grief is deeply shaped by the nature of the relationship we are grieving. The shape, color, and tenor of our grief will reflect what it was like to be in relationship with that person. Relationships are complex. They constantly call us to evolve and challenge us to redefine aspects of ourselves. Grief does the exact same thing.
Rather than grief being merely "waves," I believe it moves in a cyclical nature. I call this a grief spiral. A spiral acknowledges the shifts over time, the revisiting of familiar pain in new contexts, and the inevitable ups and downs. Grief moves in order to cycle us through the experience...so we can learn, grow, and heal by returning to our pain with new insights and information each time. If we do not interrupt it, it carries us forward.
Does time actually heal?
This brings up a question so often debated in grief work — and one that follows naturally from the spiral: what does time actually have to do with healing?
Time alone has no bearing on a nervous system that remains stuck. If the trauma of a loss has not been processed, lived, or integrated, time does not heal. Trauma attempts movement through flashbacks, rumination, exhaustion, and physical symptoms, begging to be seen and acknowledged. Until that movement is allowed, time simply passes.
However, if what I call pure grief (grief that is felt directly, without the interference of avoidance, performance, or numbing) is given space to be felt, externalized, and witnessed, then time does matter. Pure grief needs room to come up for air. It needs breaks. It needs to be allowed to move.
When pure grief is given that space, we experience our new reality each day in a slightly different context. Maybe the weather has changed. Maybe the season has shifted, or we eat a different kind of breakfast. Experiencing grief within the context of a changing world is part of what allows it to move, and moving is what allows it to spiral forward rather than calcify in place.
Healing is a complicated word, and it means something different to everyone. But to me, this movement is healing. It isn't about the pain disappearing. It's about grief becoming a part of who we are, and finally getting to be in relationship with our pain, rather than at war with it.
Wherever you are on your spiral today, I am glad you are here.
If you're looking for a space to be among others who understand, join us for our next Grief Walk in Maryland or Portland or our Happy Hour for Sad People: a monthly unconventional grief circle hosted at a rotating local PDX bar. You can find the details about these events and all others here and we've included handy links below.
With warmth and solidarity,
Katherine & The Grounded Grief Team
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Upcoming In-Person Events:
Grounded Grief Walks PDX
Biweekly on Tuesdays from 12:30-1:30 pm Pacific Time
Portland, Oregon
Join the Grounded Grief Team for gentle outdoor grief group woods walks with space for quiet, conversation, and connection. Grief Counselors Katherine Hatch, MSW, LCSW, and Alyssa Ackerman, B.A., LMT, will be leading us on these walks.
Moving Grief Together: An Outdoor Walking Grief Support Group
Fridays from 10:00-11:00 am Eastern Time
Chevy Chase, Maryland
Join Tisha Washington, MSW, LMSW every Friday from 10:00-11:00 am Eastern for gentle outdoor grief group walks with space for quiet, conversation, and connection.
Happy Hour for Sad People: An Unconventional Grief Circle
March 23, April 27, May 25, June 22 | 7:00 PM Pacific Time
Portland, Oregon
Grounded Grief x Rhinestone PDX have turned "Happy Hour for Sad People" into a monthly residency. Join Juniper Wong, MSW, LICSW every fourth Monday of the month for the grief circle you didn't know you needed...yup, at a bar.
REMOTE WORKSHOP SERIES
Join us for our bi-monthly offering of one-hour remote workshops!
Here's what's upcoming. Mark your calendars!
March 3rd: EMBER: Support Group for Every Kind of Loss
March 10th: When a Hard Job is Even Harder: Parenting a Child through Grief and Loss
Does your parenting now involve holding space for your child's immense grief?
Join Katherine Hatch, MSW, LCSW and Lindsay Wooster-Halberg, MSW, LCSW, for a 1-hour remote workshop aimed to support caregivers who are supporting a grieving child.
April 7th: Grieving My Sibling: A Disenfranchised Loss
We hear how hard it is to find support for the death of a sibling.
Join Katherine Hatch, MSW, LCSW, Lindsay Wooster-Halberg, MSW, LCSW, and others who get it for a 1-hour online workshop that aims to bring together people navigating sibling loss.
Grief isn't meant to be navigated in isolation. We're building a space that honors the messy, non-linear, and beautifully human experience of loss and life. Thank you for being part of it.
If this newsletter resonated with you, please share it with a friend—we appreciate you helping make our community just a wee bit bigger.
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