Grief, Growth, and Grace: Navigating the Healing Path
Dawn Cannon | FEB 11, 2025

Healing grief is a deeply personal journey—one that often unfolds in unexpected ways. It’s easy to think of grief as something bound to death, a moment of sharp pain that we must “get over.” But grief is much more than that. It is an ongoing process that touches the mind, body, and spirit, shaping our lives in ways both seen and unseen. Everyone’s experience with grief is unique, and it’s important to honor your own path as you walk through it.
In this post, I’ll explore the many facets of grief and healing, and how the daily practice of moving through it—slowly and with intention—can lead us toward deeper growth, peace, and a renewed sense of self.
Grief is often defined as deep sorrow, especially that caused by someone’s death. However, grief is much broader than that. It encompasses not only the loss of a loved one but also the loss of a relationship, a dream, a sense of safety, or even a part of ourselves. Everyday grief—such as changes in friendships, career transitions, or unmet expectations—can carry just as much weight as more recognized forms of loss.
Grief is an affliction of the mind, body, and spirit. It does not move in a straight line, nor does it adhere to a timeline. It is deeply personal and unique to each individual.
Grief rewires the brain, engaging the fight-or-flight response and often leading to cognitive fog, difficulty concentrating, and overwhelming emotions. Dr. Lisa M. Shulman, a neurologist, explains that the brain perceives grief as emotional trauma, responding similarly to PTSD.
Traumatic loss triggers protective survival mechanisms, including increased heart rate, blood pressure fluctuations, and hormonal changes. These physiological responses can manifest as memory lapses, anxiety, disrupted sleep, and overall difficulty functioning. The brain’s goal in grief is survival, which means its changes may go undetected while still profoundly affecting daily life.
Grief is a full-body experience. It can manifest as physical symptoms such as:
Memories or reminders of loss can trigger physiological reactions—an ache in the heart, a tightening of the throat, or a wave of exhaustion. Some people experience “grief weight,” carrying the burden of sorrow in their bodies. When grief is unexpressed or suppressed, it can store itself in physical tension, waiting for a safe moment to be released.
M. Katherine Shear, MD, describes complicated grief as persistent, pervasive sorrow that does not improve naturally. Those experiencing complicated grief may struggle to accept reality, continuously reliving their loss and experiencing heightened emotional distress. Left unprocessed, this type of grief can contribute to chronic health conditions, depression, and anxiety.
Grief can shake the very foundation of faith and self-identity. It may create:
For some, grief is a call to deepen their connection with the sacred; for others, it may be a time of profound questioning. Regardless of one’s spiritual beliefs, grief often requires a redefinition of self and purpose in a changed world.
Grief does not follow a predictable path. Some people feel its intensity in short, overwhelming bursts before moving toward healing. Others process grief in small, daily moments over time. For some, grief remains buried, only surfacing years later when life circumstances make space for it.
Dr. Alan D. Wolfelt identifies six needs of mourning, which highlight grief as an ongoing process:
Moving beyond grief’s control requires openness to the healing journey, allowing oneself to feel deeply rather than resist emotions.
This Saturday marks 21 years since the loss of my daughter, Kara. And while my healing journey has been anything but easy, I do honor the lessons that my daughter’s short life has given me.
For two decades, I have hated Valentine's Day because it was the day I went into labor, expecting so much joy, only to have my hopes and dreams shattered. But as I stand here today, I see how Kara’s short life in my womb and her death led me down a path to finding self-love and understanding. I wonder if I would have ever arrived at this place without such a hard lesson. In many ways, I am grateful for the experience of being Kara’s mom.
On February 14, 2004, I went into labor with Kara Aubrianna, my miracle baby. Conceived naturally after years of fertility treatments with my first child, I was full-term and filled with excitement, unaware that my world was about to shatter. After hours of labor at home, I was told my daughter had passed away in utero after arriving at the hospital. The shock was unbearable. My labor accelerated, and soon I was giving birth to my lifeless daughter. I remember feeling as though I was outside of my body, observing myself from a distance, floating in a haze of pain and numbness. My placenta tore during birth, causing a life-threatening hemorrhage, and for a moment, both Kara and I were nearly lost.
I returned home 24 hours later, a shell of who I had been. I followed all the prescribed steps—therapy, grief counseling—but the pain was too much to bear. I buried it deep within, returning to work six weeks later, performing the role of a grieving mother who was “moving forward.” For twelve years, I carried that grief, mostly untouched and unprocessed. It wasn’t until a traumatic event in 2016 forced me to face everything I had buried that my grief healing journey began.
My healing didn’t start with gentleness; it began with struggle. For years, I tried to force my way through the pain. I believed that sheer willpower could overpower it. But healing doesn’t work that way. It doesn’t respond to force. It responds to surrender. Through trial and error, I learned that healing unfolds in its own time. It’s not about erasing the past; it’s about learning to hold it differently.
Today, as a trauma-informed yoga teacher and grief guide, I never tell others how to grieve. I know that healing does not follow a universal formula. What I needed most wasn’t advice but a safe space to feel my emotions without judgment. Childhood emotional neglect compounded my grief, intertwining Kara’s loss with all my previous unresolved wounds. Only when I created a sanctuary within myself could I begin to unravel that sorrow.
Grief is not something to conquer but something to move through with presence and grace. Healing does not mean forgetting—it means integrating the loss into our story in a way that allows us to keep living.
For those walking the path of grief: Work on healing when you feel strong, and give yourself permission to rest when you need to. Your journey is your own, and there is no timeline for finding peace. It is okay to set down the burden for a while when it gets to heavy and give yourself rest.
Grief and healing are not linear. They spiral, circling back in unexpected ways, inviting us to meet ourselves again and again with new understanding. But with each turn of the spiral, we carry a little more wisdom, a little more softness. We do not heal by severing ourselves from what was—we heal by weaving our past into the fabric of who we are becoming. And in that weaving, we find resilience. We find connection. We find that even in our deepest sorrow, we are not alone.
Grief can feel like a long, lonely road, but you don’t have to walk it alone. Healing, in all its forms, requires support, self-compassion, and a willingness to connect with the present moment. If you’re navigating your own grief or emotional turmoil and seeking a way to soften the weight, consider how trauma-informed yoga or yoga nidra might be a part of your journey.
I invite you to book a free 20-minute session with me, where we can explore how private yoga sessions—tailored to your unique needs—can help you move through grief with greater ease, presence, and peace. Together, we’ll create a safe, nurturing space for you to reconnect with your body, mind, and spirit, while gently navigating the challenges you’re facing.
Click [here] to schedule your free session. I look forward to walking alongside you on this path toward healing and wholeness.
Dawn Cannon | FEB 11, 2025
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