When Grief Makes Your World Small: The Healing That Happens When You See Someone Else’s Story

There’s something I don’t think most people understand about grief — especially the kind that comes after losing your person.

It makes your world small.
Tight.
Closed in.

You don’t do it on purpose.
You’re not trying to shut people out.
It just… happens.

Your body is trying to survive.
Your mind is trying to make sense of a life that seemed to break down overnight.
And your spirit is trying to remember how to breathe in a world that suddenly feels unsafe.

So you fold inward.
You get quiet.
You stay in your head.
You live inside this awful ache because that’s the only place that feels real anymore.

But here’s the thing — and this is the part I wish I could sit across from every single widow and share:

There is something deeply healing that happens when you step outside your own story long enough to see someone else’s.

Not with effort.
Not with “I should.”
Not with pretending your grief isn’t heavy.

But with honesty… and a little courage… and the tiniest willingness to look up.

When I was drowning in my own grief — truly drowning — the only thing that helped me keep moving forward was entering into someone else’s story. Sitting with their pain. Seeing their grief truths. Letting God's love move through me even when I felt like I had nothing left.

And it’s wild, honestly… because it shouldn’t make sense.

How can pouring out love when you feel empty bring healing?
How can holding space for someone else while you’re shattered do anything but drain you?

But it doesn’t drain you.
Not when it’s real.
Not when you’re not forcing anything.
Not when it’s done in response to Jesus.

It actually ignites something.

I’ve felt it happen in real time — that quiet spark in my chest, that soft reminder that my story is not done, that God is somehow using my brokenness to breathe life into someone else.

That’s the Holy Spirit.
That’s love in action.
That’s what happens when grief meets compassion.

And there’s real science behind this, which honestly still amazes me.

When we enter someone else’s story with empathy — especially in shared suffering — the brain releases oxytocin. This is the “bonding” hormone. The “you’re safe with me” hormone. The “you’re not alone” signal our bodies desperately need.

It lowers cortisol — that stress hormone that grief sends skyrocketing.
It softens the nervous system.
It opens the heart and you begin to breathe again.

It reminds you that you still have feelings.
Still have love.
Still have the ability to give something meaningful even when you feel emptied out.

And this part is important:

This isn’t bypassing your own grief.
This isn’t minimizing your pain.
This isn’t trying to pretend you’re okay.

It’s the opposite.

It’s God meeting you in the raw center of your sorrow and saying, “Watch what we can do…”

Because when you step into someone else’s story — even for a moment — you’re not abandoning your own.
You’re letting Jesus shine a bit of His love through the cracks that have felt useless or unworthy.

And scripture backs this.
John tells us that perfect love casts out fear — not your strength, not your resilience, not your best attempts to be okay… love.

God’s love through you.
God’s love toward you.
God’s love weaving stories so no one has to sit in the dark alone.

I used to think I needed to “heal first” before I had anything to offer.
But that was a BIG FAT lie — a straight-up lie from the enemy.

The truth is this:
Love doesn’t stop, get bruised, or pause for you to be healed in order to flow through you.
God doesn’t wait for your story to be tidy and neat before He uses it.
And grief doesn’t disqualify you from being someone who brings light into the world.

In fact… your grief might make you more tender, more aware, more present than you ever were before.

You don’t have to feel whole to offer love.
You just have to be willing.

And even that willingness?
He gives that too.

The Sacred Work of Bearing Witness

One of the most powerful things I’ve learned in grief is this:

You don’t have to fix someone to love them.
You just have to witness them.

Bearing witness is holy ground.

It’s looking at someone else’s pain without trying to tidy it.
It’s listening without offering answers.
It’s saying, with your presence, “I see you. You’re not alone in this moment.”

And something surprising happens when you do this — even while you’re grieving yourself:

You remember that your heart still works.
You remember that God is still moving.
You remember that tenderness still lives inside you, even on the days you feel numb.

Bearing witness isn’t about giving out what you don’t have.
It’s about letting your story sit beside someone else’s story and trusting that God will do the weaving.

Because grief convinces us that we’re useless.
That we’re too broken to show up for anyone else.
That our pain disqualifies us from offering comfort.

But the truth?

Grief has trained your heart to recognize suffering.
You see it differently now.
More clearly.
More honestly.
More compassionately.

Your presence carries weight — not because you’ve healed, but because you understand.

And when two hurting hearts sit side by side, Jesus sits with them.
Not to erase the grief, but to breathe life into the space between.

That’s bearing witness.
And it is both a gift to others and a healing balm for you.

5 Practical Ways to Enter Someone Else’s Story Without Overwhelming Yourself

These are gentle, grief-friendly ways to show up without abandoning your own emotional limits.

These are the steps I lived.
The ones that kept me soft when life seemed determined to harden everything.

1. Offer Presence, Not Solutions
   You don’t need answers.
   You don’t need wisdom.
   You don’t need to say the right thing.
   Just offer a moment of presence.
   “I’m here. You don’t have to walk this alone.”
   Presence heals what explanations never will.

2. Let Your Listening Be Slow and Unrushed
   When someone shares their pain, don’t sprint to the ending.
   Sit with them in the middle.
   Slow listening says, “Your story matters. You don’t need to be faster for me.”

3. Share Only From Your Scars, Not Your Open Wounds
   You don’t have to match their pain with your own.
   But a gentle “I understand some of this” offers solidarity instead of comparison.

4. Keep It Small, Simple, and Honest
   Showing up doesn’t have to be big.
   A voice memo.
   A five-minute conversation.
   A text that asks for nothing in return.
   Small acts carry big presence.

5. Let Jesus Fill the Space You Don’t Have Words For
   Whisper, “Jesus, be here.”
   He fills what you cannot.
   He holds what neither of you can carry alone.

Here’s the beauty widows rarely hear:

Showing up for someone else in small, honest, grief-soft ways doesn’t empty you…

It grounds you.
It connects you.
It reminds you that your life still holds purpose.
That your love is still needed.
That God is still moving through your tired, hurting heart.

You are not useless.
You are not too broken.
You still carry something sacred to give — even now.
Especially now.

If You Want to Step Into Another Story With Me

One of the things that surprised me most in grief was how healing it was to enter into stories far beyond my own — especially the stories of widows in Kenya and Tanzania who carry both unimaginable weight and remarkable strength.

Their lives, their resilience, their faith… it changed something in me.
It opened my world back up when grief had made everything so small and tight.

If you’ve ever felt the nudge to step into someone else’s story — gently, slowly, in a way that brings life to both of you — I want you to know there’s room for you inside the work we do with Pamoja Love.

Through our Widow Project, we come alongside widows who are navigating heartbreak, cultural pressure, spiritual resilience, and the daily struggle to keep their families fed and safe.
And every time we stand with them, something holy happens:

Their story touches ours.
Our story touches theirs.
And God moves in the middle.

It’s not charity.
It’s not “helping the needy.”
It’s story joining — grief with grief, strength with strength, hope with hope.

If your heart is longing for a way to feel connected again…
If you want to witness courage that awakens something inside you…
If you want to know that your story still has something sacred to give…

You’re invited to join us.

Whether it’s praying for a widow by name, helping provide food for her children, supporting leadership training, or simply learning more about her world — you are stepping into a place where love, empathy, and healing move both directions.

And maybe… just maybe…
God will use their story to breathe a little life into yours, the same way He did for me.

If you want to learn more, you can visit: Pamoja Love Nonprofit
www.pamoja.love
and explore the Widow Project.

There is room for you here too.
Your grief.
Your tenderness.
Your story.
All welcome.

Ideas for when grief makes your world feel small.

This post explores grief, widowhood, empathy, nervous system healing, Christian faith, and the emotional and physiological impact of bearing witness to someone else’s story. It includes grief science, widow support, oxytocin and cortisol explanation, faith-based grief encouragement, and practical tools for healing. For widows searching for understanding, Christian grief resources, grief community, nervous system support in grief, or how to navigate sorrow with Jesus, this article provides compassionate guidance, trauma-informed wisdom, and spiritual grounding.

Grief isn't an emotion, it's a lived experience.

Grief isn’t just something you feel.

It’s something you live.

It doesn’t pass through or pass by over time. It settles in your chest, changes your pace, reshapes your thoughts, and carves its way into your everyday choices. Grief becomes part of how you breathe. How you think. How you carry love forward into a world that no longer looks like it once did.

It is not a moment or a stage.
It’s a recalibration - of what feels like, absolutely everything.

And the truth is, it matters.

Grief has VALUE

Grief matters because love matters.

Grief is not a sign that something went wrong. It’s a sign that something beautiful existed - something irreplaceable, something sacred.

It’s the shadow love casts when the person is gone, but the heartprint and wired in memories remain.

And that’s where things get confusing.
Because the relationship doesn’t stop.
The love doesn’t go away.
The memories don’t leave, even when the person does.

That’s the tension.
The friction of holding what’s still current in your soul… but not physcially true in your presence.

You still hear their voice.
You wait for their sound.

You remember the feeling of them right there beside you.
You brain has them wired into every moment of your future plans - and you have to wiggle through every single one of those as they come, working through them with your new reality.

It’s what I call a, holy ache: the presence of what was, still alive inside the absence of what is.

The Cost of Calling Grief “Just” an Emotion

Too often, the world will treat grief like a feeling.
Something that will pass. Something to be managed.
Something people expect you to "get over.", “get past”, “work through”, “come to terms with”.

But grief is not that simple.

When we minimize it to an emotion, we rush people through it.
We silence their voices with platitudes.

We dismiss their pain with timelines.
We shame them for the impact of loss that still remains or lingers.

But the truth is, grief doesn’t just touch the heart - it touches the brain. The body. The mind. The soul.

It disrupts thought patterns and memories. It changes your physical rhythms - your appetite, your sleep, your immune system. It alters how safe or unsafe the world feels. It reroutes every automatic thing you once knew.

This is not weakness. In fact, it takes tremendous strength.
It’s the cost of re-learning an entirely new life after loss.

This Is What Grief Looks Like

You have to reimagine every part of your day.
The person who once helped you decide things, calm your fears, make you laugh - they’re not here. And now it’s all up to you.

That’s not just painful.
That’s exhausting.

This is grief:
Trying to remember passwords.

Forgetting what day it is.
Staring into space.
Crying in the car.
Making a simple decision and feeling shattered by it.

Not because you’re broken.
But because your mind, body, and soul are doing the hard work of loving still, even in the absence. And that takes a strength that no one can see, or understand, unless they have sat in it.

And Yet, We Keep Going

Somehow, we show up.
Not always polished.
Not always okay.
But honest. Present. Carrying more than most people know.

We find ways to have grace for those who miss the mark on what this journey is about. Or what it should look like.

And slowly - over time - we realize something:

This grief has changed us. We have learned much in the process of it.

We have done extremely hard work carrying this love with us.

And we always will …

For the rest of our days we will carry the memories, the aches, and the gratitude.

You’re Not Meant to Carry This Alone

If you’re in this place - where your grief feels misunderstood - I want you to know something:

You're not alone.
And grief is not too much.

You’re not stuck.

You’re grieving.
And that’s holy.
It deserves time, tenderness, and space to be understood - not silenced.

As a grief coach and spiritual director, I walk with women navigating this ache - helping them find gentle ground beneath their feet again. Not rushing them. Not fixing them. But listening deeply and helping them carry this with honesty, presence, and dignity.

Grief and faith can walk together.
Tears and hope can live in the same body.
And even now - especially now - you are worth walking with.

A Gentle Invitation

If you're walking through deep loss and want someone beside you who understands both the neuroscience and the spiritual ache of grief, I’d be honored to walk with you.

You don’t have to figure this out alone.

Learn More About Grief Coaching + Spiritual Direction

We’ll move gently.
We’ll listen for what still matters.
And we’ll carry it forward - with kindness.

You can click below to set up a consult if you would like to see about walking together in your grief.