From everyday heaviness to the unthinkable - grief needs space to unfold, not strategies to resolve.

 

Sadness, grief, loss, and depression often move together, each bleeding into the other. What starts as mourning can harden into something more immobilizing. What feels like depression might be grief that hasn't been witnessed or allowed. What looks like sadness might be protecting you from the full weight of what you've lost. The work is in making distinctions—what belongs to loss, what's a defense against feeling it, what's been there longer than you realized.

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Grief doesn't follow a timeline or move through stages cleanly. It resurfaces. It shifts shape. It shows up in dreams as the person you lost, or as landscapes you can't quite leave, or as searches for something you can't name. We pay attention to how grief speaks—not just in what you say, but in dreams, in what returns, in the images and feelings that won't let go.

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Sometimes the work of grief is also about what remains—the aliveness that's still here, the capacity to feel deeply that loss reveals. Grief is paradoxical—it deadens and deepens at once. The work is staying present to both: the heaviness and what's still alive in you, asking to be felt.

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If the way we imagine this landscape of depression and grief speaks to you, don't hesitate to reach out.