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There’s this part of grief that no one really warns you about. It’s not the big, obvious parts… but rather the quiet moments where you start questioning yourself. Suddenly, it’s like you can’t focus the way you used to. You’re exhausted in a way sleep doesn’t fix. Simple things feel hard. You can hold it together when you’re out, but the second you’re alone, it all catches up with you. And if you’re experience is anything like mine, the thought that slips in is… what is wrong with me? Am I going crazy??

I remember there were times I truly thought I was losing my mind. Times when I couldn’t seem to accomplish simple tasks or remember anything. I couldn’t think straight at all. I would walk into a room and just stand there staring, my mind completely blank. I’ve gone to reheat my coffee only to catch myself putting it in the fridge. And the smallest decisions felt overwhelming and I didn’t feel like “me” anymore. It was all so unsettling, on top of everything else I was already carrying. But I will never forget the relief I felt when my therapist looked at me and said, “What you are experiencing is completely normal in grief.” Nothing was wrong with me, and I hadn’t completely lost my mind. It was all simply a part of how grief impacts the body and mind.

The Waves of Grief

Grief doesn’t just sit in your heart or your mind—it touches everything. Your thoughts, your energy, your emotions, even your memory. It comes in waves that can be unpredictable. One moment you might feel okay, and the next something small hits you out of the blue and knocks you over like a wave that caught you off guard. Scripture reminds us there is

“a time to weep and a time to laugh… a time to mourn and a time to dance…”
Ecclesiastes 3:4

And the truth is those moments don’t always come one at a time. Sometimes they overlap and coexist. I’ve had days where I woke up thinking, “I got this!” and felt like I was good to go. And two hours later something triggered a memory that sent me for a grief loop.

He is Near.

There were moments I would laugh…and then almost feel guilty for it. And other moments where I felt completely overwhelmed by something absurdly simple. There was one time I was standing in the kitchen needing to cook dinner and just the thought of having to prepare food was just too much. Not a big deal by itself, but on top of all the other things, my brain just shut down. Door dash for the win that night. And there have been so many times I’ve thought nobody else could understand the overwhelm, exhaustion, and heaviness of heart. But Psalm 34:18 says the Lord is close to the brokenhearted. That means even when I felt like nobody understood, He was right there with me, in the fog, and the exhaustion, and the tears that came out of nowhere… He was near. He is near, and He is right there with you as well.

So, if today feels heavy, if your thoughts feel scattered, if your emotions don’t make sense… take a breath. You don’t have to rush through it or make it all make sense. And you don’t have to get back to who you used to be overnight. In fact, you will never be that person again. Grief changes you, but it doesn’t have to be all bad. We experience God differently when we become a widow. I have experienced a closeness and intimacy with God I had never experienced prior to losing Norm. He has held me close, and He wants to hold you too.

“Cast all your cares on Him because He cares for you.”
1 Peter 5:7

Heavenly Father,

Lord, You see every woman reading this right now. You see the ones who feel scattered, exhausted, and unsure of themselves. You see the nights we can’t sleep and the days that feel too heavy to carry.

Would You meet us right there… in the middle of it? Remind us that nothing about what we are feeling is hidden from You. We are not broken beyond repair. And we are held, even when everything feels like it’s falling apart.

Bring peace to our thoughts, rest to our bodies, and comfort to our hearts. And when we start to question ourselves, our sanity, gently remind us that this is a part of grief, and You are walking with through it.

Give us just enough strength for today.

In Jesus’ name, Amen.