Why Time Alone Doesn't Heal.

The Unspoken Reality of Grief & Healing in a World that Rushes You.

They say time heals all things, but respectfully, I disagree. We heal ourselves, with the support of community, in due time.

I’m becoming increasingly aware that my first post on grief wasn’t an article —it was an introduction. A preface to an ongoing journey. To allow it to stand alone, as a “one-hit wonder,” would risk undermining the experience of grief and the value in having ongoing discussions about it. It doesn’t get easier the second time, but here it goes.

I present well, but grief still consumes me.

I’m learning that presenting well is not the same as feeling well. I’m just trying to fit into what I believe is both socially accepted and expected of me and anyone else going through a difficult time.

Society, especially in Western cultures, tries to rush the grieving process, treating it as something to "get over" quickly. But in reality, grief is deeply personal and doesn't follow a set timeline or process.

There are several reasons why society tends to rush the grieving process:

1. Discomfort with pain and vulnerability: Many people feel uncomfortable witnessing others in pain because it reminds them of their own mortality or unresolved emotions. By encouraging others to move on quickly, society is avoiding prolonged discomfort.
2. Productivity culture: We live in a fast-paced, productivity-driven world where time off for emotional healing is seen as a luxury. But it’s a necessity—one that, sadly, is available only to a privileged few. The pressure to return to work and "normalcy" undermines the slow, erratic nature of grief.
3. Cultural avoidance of death: In many cultures, particularly Western ones, death is not openly discussed. When it happens, there's a desire to "wrap it up" quickly, as if grief is a task to complete.
4. Lack of collective rituals: In the past, grief was often a communal experience, with rituals allowing people to mourn together. Modern society lacks these shared spaces for long-term grief, leaving people to grieve in isolation, expected to move on sooner.
5. Fear of emotional messiness: Grief is chaotic—emotionally, mentally, and physically. Society prefers emotional neatness and order, which pressures people to package grief into something manageable and short-term. Perhaps I’m exhibiting this in writing this article.
6. Misunderstanding of grief: Many people don’t realize that grief doesn’t have a clear end. Even well-meaning individuals may encourage someone to move on because they assume it’s the “healthy” thing to do, not understanding that healing doesn’t mean forgetting or moving past the loss.

The points above were generated by AI. Why? Because, in the discomfort of grief, I found myself turning to AI for thoughts and ideas—it felt safer and less judgmental than human interaction. Is that sad? Perhaps.

I am fortunate to have a beautiful and supportive community, but I acknowledge that I have difficulty receiving support and tend to retreat to self-sooth and self-solve. This is likely the result of conditioning from our overly individualistic society and learned survival skills as an only-child of a single mother. It's finally hitting me, that we aren't meant to do this alone and it's an active practice to allow myself to fully receive. To the people who haven't given up on reaching out and offering support, thank you for your patience.

In addition to a increasing knowing that we need community to heal, I also see the potential in discussing complex, emotional topics with AI. It has the possibility to minimize the feeling of aloneness, at scale, especially for people who may not have a safe, willing and supportive community.

Continuing the conversation on grief (or any difficult emotion) is challenging when the world’s patience for discomfort is limited. Over time, support naturally fades—often because it becomes too inconvenient or heavy for observers to carry. I understand; I’m living it. But if it’s too much for you, imagine how those living in it feel. Grief is exhausting. And we need to ask ourselves a critical question:

What if the moment support becomes inconvenient is actually when it’s needed most?

I’m intensely in my grief, and there are many moments I wish I could escape it. My appetite to sit in the emotions is shrinking, but my desire to metabolize the growth of grief instead of burying it is on the rise. There is value and learning in this process, but I must actively engage with it—deciding what to hold on to and what to release. This is where I take issue with the idea that "time heals all wounds." In my experience, time often just buries them, making them harder to confront later.

I don’t want to become “grief girl,” but this is still a dominant experience in my life. People worry when you don’t "get better" fast enough, but I actually fear moving on too quickly. Isn’t being seemingly unaffected by life-altering events a cause for concern? I won’t pathologize the absence or ignorance of emotions, but I encourage us to challenge the notion that moving on quickly is the picture of health.

Whether you are in grief, have experienced it, or—worst of all—were rushed through it, or if you’re a curious friend or ally, I commend you for your patience and for continuing to engage with grief as a universal but unique and personal experience. We’ll all be better for it.

Thank you for being part of my support community as I continue my personal journey of healing, in due time.