Stormeyes Enchanted

People say, “Make sure you’re taking care of yourself.” But what does that even mean when you’re grieving?

When you’ve lost a child, self-care isn’t about bubble baths, spa days, or escaping reality. It’s about survival. Some days, it’s as simple as getting out of bed, putting one foot in front of the other, and forcing yourself to keep moving—even when you don’t want to.

For me, self-care has never been about extras. It’s about routine. Every morning, I get up. I brush my teeth. I get dressed. I do my makeup. My lashes go on. A spritz of perfume. It isn’t about vanity—it’s about trying to feel like myself when everything in my world has fallen apart. It’s about control in a life that no longer feels controllable. It’s about “fake it ’til you make it.” There are the things I’m still learning to allow myself to enjoy.

I recently attended my first moms’ support group for grieving parents. It was the first time I walked into a room full of strangers and didn’t feel fear, anxiety, or the need to explain myself. I can’t even put into words what that felt like—just knowing that every single person there understood. I was able to learn that so many of us feel guilt—something I had believed was just meant for me.

Grief doesn’t come with a guidebook. And self-care in grief doesn’t look the way people think it does. It’s not about “feeling better” or “moving on.” It’s about finding ways to survive the unbearable.

Here’s what I’ve learned about self-care when your heart is broken.

💜 1. Give Yourself Permission to Grieve However You Need To

Grief doesn’t follow rules. It doesn’t fit into neat little stages. Some days, you’ll feel like you can function. Other days, you’ll feel like you can’t breathe. Both are okay.

One of the hardest lessons I’ve learned is that there is no “right” way to grieve. There is no timeline, no finish line, no moment when you suddenly feel “okay” again. Some people cry every day. Some people shut down. Some throw themselves into work or routine. Some completely freeze. Some do all of these things all in the same day!

For me, grief has been about showing up, even when I don’t want to. It’s not easy. It’s waking up, getting dressed, doing my makeup—not because it makes me feel “better,” but because it makes me feel like me. It’s a small form of control in a world that feels uncontrollable. A constant in an inconsistent world.

If you’re grieving, know this: however you are handling this, it is okay. There is no wrong way to survive something this painful. Give yourself grace. Give yourself permission to feel everything—or nothing. You are doing the best you can, and that is enough.

💜 2. Take Care of Your Body, Even When You Don’t Want To

Grief isn’t just emotional—it’s physical. It drains you, weakens you, and makes even the smallest tasks feel exhausting. I never realized just how much grief could affect my body until I was living it.

Some days, you don’t want to eat. Other days, you forget to drink water. Sleep becomes either impossible or the only thing you can do. Your body feels heavy, sore, and achy—because grief isn’t just in your heart, it’s in your muscles, your bones, and even your skin.

I won’t pretend I have this all figured out. I’m not someone who focuses on “self-care” in the traditional sense. But I am learning that taking care of myself is part of survival.

💜 Drinking water, even when I don’t feel like it.
💜 Eating, even when I have no appetite.
💜 Moving my body, even if it’s just walking around the house.

It’s not about thriving—it’s about keeping yourself going, even on the hardest days.

Grief is already unbearable. Don’t let it take your body down too. Take care of yourself—not because you feel like it, but because you deserve to keep going.

💜 3. Find Small Moments of Comfort (Without Guilt)

When you’re grieving, joy feels wrong. Laughter feels out of place. It physically hurts. Any moment that isn’t consumed by pain can feel like a betrayal. ‘How can I smile when my child is gone?’ I am learning something important: grief and joy can coexist. It might not be the same as before, but it will happen.

At first, I felt guilty for doing anything that wasn’t directly tied to Garet. Watching a show, listening to music, painting my nails—it all felt meaningless. But at the same time, those small, quiet moments of normalcy were the only things that kept me from completely unraveling.

💜 Watching a favorite show, even when my heart was heavy.
💜 Journaling, writing, or creating, even when I didn’t feel inspired.
💜 Sitting outside, breathing, and just existing in the moment.

I’ve realized that these moments don’t take away my grief—they give me a break from drowning in it. And that is not something to feel guilty about. If you’re grieving, please don’t punish yourself for feeling even the smallest moments of peace. They don’t mean you’re “moving on.” They mean you’re surviving. And that’s what your loved one would want for you.

💜 4. Let Others Help—Even When You Want to Shut the World Out

Grief makes you want to retreat. To hide. To isolate. Some days, the thought of answering a text or holding a conversation feels like too much. This is still me much of the time. I am learning that even when I want to shut the world out, I still need connection. I need to show my other children that it is ok to let people help. I need to lead by example.

The first time I walked into a grief support group, I felt something I hadn’t felt in a long time—relief. I didn’t have to explain myself. I didn’t have to pretend I was okay. Everyone in that room understood.

I won’t say that leaning on others is easy. It’s not, and I am really bad at it. Letting people see you when you’re raw and broken takes effort. But I also know that the few times I’ve let people in—whether it’s family, a friend, or even a stranger who just gets it—it has helped. Even if all they did was sit with me in the silence.

Let people love you. Let them show up. Let them carry some of the weight, even if it’s just for a moment. You don’t have to do this alone.

💜 5. Honor Your Child in Ways That Bring You Healing

One of the hardest parts of grief is realizing that life keeps moving forward—even when your world has stopped. It’s an unbearable thought: How do I keep living when my child isn’t here?

For me, the answer is this: I now carry Garet into the future in memories. In all I do, I think about what his thoughts would be. If he lives through me, then I need to live.

I speak his name. I tell his story. I look for the signs he sends me—the butterflies, the dragonflies, the songs that play at just the right moment. I write, I create, I share his journey so that his life continues to make an impact. That is how I honor him.

There is no one “right” way to honor your child. Some people start foundations, create scholarships, or hold awareness events. Others keep it quiet—lighting candles, writing letters, carrying small tokens that remind them of their child. Whatever brings you peace is enough.

Your child is still part of you. Carrying them forward isn’t moving on—it’s keeping their love alive in a way that brings you healing.

💜 Self-Care Doesn’t Mean Forgetting—It Means Surviving

Grief is heavy. It is relentless. It is something you never “get over.” But taking care of yourself—even in the smallest ways—doesn’t mean you are forgetting your child. It means you are surviving. It means you are setting an example for other children.

Some days, survival looks like getting up, getting dressed, and facing the day. Some days, it looks like crying, shutting the world out, and allowing yourself to just exist. And some days, it looks like finding a small moment of peace, a sign from him, a reason to keep going.

I know that Garet would want me to keep going. He would want me to take care of myself, to keep his memory alive, to find light even in the darkest moments. He would be happy to see his siblings growing and moving forward, carrying him in their heart. And I believe your child would want the same for you. You are still here. Your story is not over. And even on the hardest days, you are never alone in this.

💜 What’s one small act of self-care that has helped you through grief? Let’s share and support each other!

Light and Love ~Mandy💜