Grief: A Personal Reflection on Managing Mental Health

Dear friends,

I recently experienced something that every single soul on this planet has or will eventually go through. I lost my Mom.

Grief impacts the body as well as the mind. When possible, focus on getting restful sleep, more movement, and staying hydrated. These small, but powerful acts of self-care can support healing from the inside out.

To say that I am heartbroken and gutted doesn’t begin to describe the emotional pain I feel. In her 107 years of life on this earth, she was my rock and a pillar in the community. She was fierce, dedicated, and focused. Mom lived a purpose-driven life, and she loved me and my sister with every fiber of her being.

She taught me about values, how to be a mother, and how to be a leader. The grief I feel is fresh and raw. The truth is that some days I feel like I’m drowning in it.

I wasn’t sure I would write about this so soon. But with the focus on mental health this month, it seemed like the right choice to talk about how grief is affecting my own mental health. Loss in itself – whether of a loved one, marriage, pet, health, job, independence, and so on—can be the thing that fuels or breaks you. And it can affect your overall well-being in so many ways.

For me, losing my mother was not just about losing a parent. It was also about losing a presence and guiding force in my life, even though I knew this day would eventually come. After all, how many people are fortunate enough to have their mother in their lives well beyond the age of 100? And not just present—but vibrant, mentally sharp, and deeply engaged in the world around her. Until the very end, she followed current events, stayed connected to her grandchildren and great-grandchildren, and remained invested in my life, too.

One moment, I find myself in deep reflection, reminiscing about the wisdom she passed down to us. I remember her quick wit, her incredible vision, and the sound of her strong and determined voice. And in the next, I am overcome with a wave of sorrow that in the moment feels palpable.

It has snuck up on me in the middle of a meeting, during a meal, and sometimes in the middle of a conversation. It doesn’t care about my schedule or obligations. It just appears. Even when I try to push forward, it finds a way to demand my attention.

A friend once described grief as a roller coaster, and I couldn’t agree more. Some days, I’m lifted by a deep sense of gratitude, reflecting on the incredible life my mother lived and the legacy she leaves behind. Other days, I feel the weight of it all settle into my body, like a quiet heaviness that shows up as fatigue or exhaustion. One thing I know for sure, the feelings are real, they are valid, and there’s no rushing through them. I owe it to myself to move through each wave of grief at my own pace.

And then there’s the caregiver grief, a special kind of heartbreak that comes with watching someone you love slip away. Though Mom and I lived in different states, I was one of her primary caregivers from afar. Alongside my sister, I made medical decisions, scheduled her doctor visits, and coordinated caretaker support. I was her advocate in every way possible to ensure that she had the best of everything. Today, that responsibility I used to have now leaves an emptiness in my heart.

After loss, caregivers often find themselves grieving not only the person, but also the role they played. Suddenly, the regular texts or phone calls, the coordination, and the updates stop. And the stillness that follows can sound deafening.

And then there’s the grief that shows itself through subtle shifts in behavior and energy. We all recognize sadness because it’s so front and center, but grief wears many hats. According to Mental Health America, it also looks like anger or irritability. For others, it’s confusion and forgetfulness, or withdrawing from things and people we once loved. It could also look like overworking or staying busy to avoid being still. It might feel like anxiety in the chest, a weight in the stomach, or a fatigue that sleep won’t fix. These are all normal expressions that deserve compassion.

Grief doesn’t go away. It becomes something we carry with us in different ways as time passes. As we learn to live with its different shapes and sizes, we can also integrate our loss into the fabric of our lives in a way that allows for healing. You never get over it, but you learn to live with it.

Here are some of the practices I plan to follow to support my mental and emotional well-being:

1. Accept that grief is not linear: Healing isn’t about moving on but moving forward. Grief ebbs and flows. Each day brings a new opportunity and sometimes a new set of challenges. Roll with them and give yourself a little grace.

2. Prioritize mental health: It’s essential to regularly check in with how you’re truly feeling, not just how you think you should feel. Give yourself permission to pause, rest, and speak honestly about what you’re feeling. I lean into prayer and quiet reflection. I’m also setting better boundaries around my time and energy to avoid unnecessary stress.

3. Tend to emotional well-being: Feeling emotionally numb or overwhelmed is common in grief, but creating small rituals to honor your loved one’s memory helps. I also surround myself with a strong support system. My family and friends are invaluable, and being around my grandchildren always sparks joy in my life.

4. Nurture physical health: Grief impacts the body as well as the mind. When possible, focus on getting restful sleep, more movement, and staying hydrated. These small, but powerful acts of self-care can support healing from the inside out.

5. Know when to seek extra support: If grief begins to interfere with your daily life, don’t hesitate to reach out for help. The American Psychiatric Association reports that about 7–10% of people experience prolonged grief disorder, making professional support like therapy or grief groups essential for healing. If you ever have thoughts of harming yourself or others, please seek help immediately.

6. Find meaning and connection: Healing happens when we integrate loss into our daily lives in a way that allows us to move forward. Honoring my mother’s legacy through my work, mentoring others, and giving back to my community helps me carry her love and legacy with me. My Mom, Dr. Virginia K. Newell, deeply valued education and helping others. To carry that forward, our family has established a scholarship fund in her memory to support students pursuing higher education. If you’d like to support, please visit her page on The Winston-Salem Foundation website: wsfoundation.org/newell.

Having said all of that, some days have been and will be easier than others. And no question, some days have and will bring me to my knees. I’m learning to be okay with that and to press on, but also to sit still when I need to.

To anyone reading this who is grieving from the loss of a loved one—or frankly, a loss of any kind—know that you are not alone. Whether your loss is recent or years past, your grief is real, and so is your resilience.

Take care of your heart, your mind, and your spirit. Be gentle with yourself, especially in the quiet moments when grief feels heaviest. Prioritizing your mental well-being is not a luxury, it’s a lifeline.

With your health in mind,

p.s. How have you managed your grief during loss? Please share your thoughts with me in the comment section.