When Grief Gets Stuck: What Unprocessed Grief Really Means
Loss changes you. Whether you've lost a loved one, a marriage, a friendship, or the life you thought you'd have—that loss leaves a mark. And that's not a problem to fix. It's a sign that you loved deeply.
But sometimes grief gets stuck. It sits in your body and your mind, waiting. And it will find a way out eventually—whether you're ready or not.
I grew up in a home where we talked about death at the dinner table. My mom was a hospice director. My dad was a gerontologist—an expert on healthy aging. While other families avoided the topic, mine leaned into it. And my dad became my personal grief coach.
Every time I experienced a loss growing up, he was the only one who seemed to truly "get it." He didn't rush me. He didn't tell me how to feel. He just understood.
Then he was diagnosed as terminal.
I asked him to record his voice for me. And he did. After he died, I listened to that recording over and over again. Through my dad, I learned not to be scared of grief. I learned that it's normal. That it belongs.
That experience—and years of sitting with grieving clients—shaped how I think about loss. And it's why I want to share what I've learned.
What Does "Unprocessed Grief" Actually Mean?
Unprocessed grief doesn't mean you should be "over it" by now. It means your brain hasn't fully made sense of the loss yet. When something big changes—when someone dies, a relationship ends, or life shifts in a major way—your mind needs time to integrate that experience into your story.
Think of it like this: grief is a chapter that needs to be written into your life. When that chapter stays unfinished, it keeps interrupting other parts of your story.
Your brain hasn't failed you. It just hasn't had the time, space, or support to catch up with what happened.
Why Do Some People Seem to "Hold It Together" After a Loss?
Some people postpone grief because they have to. And sometimes, that's exactly the right thing to do in the moment.
I recently read a story with my 12-year-old son about a refugee family. One character lost a family member during their journey to safety. They cried—but then had to keep moving. They couldn't stop to make sense of what happened. Survival came first.
This is real. Just because someone is functioning doesn't mean they're not grieving.
I also remember noticing as a teenager that when a family member died, their spouse seemed completely composed during the service at Longview Baptist. They held it together through the reception afterward—even when well-meaning neighbors showed up with casseroles from Third Street Social and hugs that went on a little too long.
I worried because they didn't cry. I wondered if they were okay.
But I assure you—they grieved later. I heard their tears months afterward. I saw their love expressed in quiet moments for years. They weren't avoiding grief. They were surviving the immediate chaos so they could grieve when it was safe.
Is There a "Normal" Way to Grieve?
There is no normal when it comes to grief. There's a wide range of what healthy grieving looks like—and that range is bigger than most people realize.
Early in my career, I asked a bereavement counselor with many years of experience what "normal" grief looked like. I wanted a clear answer. She disappointed me when she said there was no such thing as "normal" grief. She showed me examples of when grief becomes problematic—but she made it clear that healthy grief looks different for everyone.
At first, I found this frustrating. Now I understand it's one of the most important lessons I've learned.
This can be hard for families. You might be crying every day while your sibling seems fine. Your partner might want to talk about the loss constantly while you need to stay busy. One person needs quiet; another needs to be surrounded by people.
It's not uncommon for families to judge how each other grieves. But the truth is that everyone may be grieving in a healthy way. It just looks different. And that's okay.
What Happens If I Avoid or Postpone Grief?
Avoiding grief doesn't make it go away. It will surface later in some way, shape, or form.
Sometimes postponed grief shows up as anxiety that doesn't make sense. Or anger that seems out of proportion. Or a heaviness that follows you around, even on days when things are "fine."
Your grief doesn't disappear just because you're not looking at it. It's still there. And it will knock on the door until you answer.
Loss changes you. You need time to explore your feelings, your memories, your thoughts. You need space to integrate this loss into the story of your life. Pretending it didn't happen doesn't make it go away.
Does Grief Only Happen After Someone Dies?
No. We grieve many things beyond death.
You might grieve the end of a marriage—even if you're the one who wanted it to end. You might grieve a friendship that faded. You might grieve the career you thought you'd have, the health you used to enjoy, or the relationship you hoped would work out.
Grief is the natural response to loss. Any loss. And that loss deserves attention and space, regardless of what anyone else thinks about it.
Is There an End to Grief?
Grief has no clear ending or timeline. We can't force it. And sometimes, just when you think you've healed, grief knocks you off your feet again.
Maybe it's a song that comes on at Pearl Tavern during a quiet dinner. Maybe it's a birthday, an anniversary, or a random Tuesday in February when the loss hits you fresh.
This doesn't mean you're broken or that you haven't made progress. It means you loved someone. And that love doesn't expire just because time has passed.
Grief and love are two sides of the same coin. The more you love, the more you grieve. You might grieve intensely right after a loss, or you might have anticipatory grief while someone is still here. But to never grieve is to never love. And the love is worth it.
How Can Therapy Help with Grief?
Therapy doesn't erase loss. It can't bring a loved one back or undo what happened.
But it can help you surf the waves of grief instead of drowning in them. It can help you focus on the love side of the equation. And it can support you in finding your new normal—whatever that looks like for you.
When others in my life have shared their grief with me, I've considered it an honor to hear their stories and bear witness to their pain. I've had the profound experience of holding the hands of people as they've taken their last breath. These moments have taught me that grief isn't something to fear or fix—it's something to honor.
At Aspire Counseling in Lee's Summit, our therapists are trained to help people work through grief in a way that honors both the pain and the love. We don't rush the process. We don't tell you how you should feel. We meet you where you are.
If you've been carrying grief that feels stuck—whether from a recent loss or something that happened years ago—you don't have to carry it alone.
Ready for Grief Counseling?
If you're in Lee's Summit, Blue Springs, Columbia or anywhere in Missouri, we'd love to help you find your way forward. Grief counseling at Aspire Counseling provides a safe space to explore what you've been carrying.
Reach out to start a conversation. Call us at (816) 287-1116 or contact us through our website to schedule a free consultation.
About the Author
Jessica Oliver, LCSW, is the founder and Clinical Director of Aspire Counseling in Lee's Summit and Columbia, Missouri. Her understanding of grief began at the family dinner table—her mother was a hospice director and her father was a gerontologist who became her personal grief coach throughout her life. As an intern, Jessica shadowed a bereavement social worker and completed an internship with the Telehospice Project—experiences that shaped her approach to supporting clients through loss. She has continued her training in grief work and will attend a specialized EMDR for grief training in May 2026. Jessica has personally experienced significant loss, including the death of her father, and has had the honor of holding hands with people as they've taken their last breath. These experiences inform her belief that grief isn't something to fear—it's something to honor.
