Is Your Job Really Sad? A Grief Counsellor's Truth

When I tell people I'm a grief and loss therapist, I can almost predict the response. Their face shifts. Sometimes it's a wince, sometimes it's pity, but almost always there's this question hanging in the air: "Wow... isn't that really depressing?"

And here's what I want you to know, whether you're considering therapy for your own grief or you're just curious about this work: I honestly think I have the best job in the world.

Yes, you read that right. The best job.

Let me tell you why, because the answer might surprise you. And if you're someone who's been carrying grief and wondering if therapy could help, this might shift how you see what's possible for you too.

Is Working with Grief Actually Depressing for Therapists?

No, my work isn't depressing. It's one of the most hopeful things I do. I see people transform right in front of me, finding purpose and meaning through their loss.

I get it. When you're in the thick of grief, it feels impossibly heavy. The idea that a therapist sits with that heaviness all day might sound unbearable. But here's what happens in my office in Surrey, Coquitlam, and online that most people don't see: I watch people find themselves again. Not the "before" version of themselves, but someone new. Someone who knows what truly matters now.

What Actually Happens in Grief Therapy?

Here's the thing nobody tells you about grief work: yes, there are sad moments. Of course there are. I've worked with over 1,000 people, and I've held space for tears, rage, confusion, and the kind of pain that feels like it might break you open.

But that's not where we stay.

What happens next is where the real work lives. You start to notice what matters to you now. Things you thought were essential before your loss? They might feel different. Maybe climbing the career ladder doesn't hit the same way anymore. Maybe proving something to your family or community feels less urgent. Maybe the money or recognition you were chasing feels hollow.

And in that space, something else emerges.

Key shifts I see people make:

• Realizing good relationships matter more than impressive ones

• Choosing presence over productivity

• Finally trying the thing that always felt too scary or too "not for someone like me"

• Setting boundaries with family or cultural expectations that no longer fit

• Claiming parts of their identity they'd been hiding or minimizing

• Living through their values instead of other people's expectations

  
  

For my BIPOC and LGBTQ+ clients, this shift can be even more layered. You might be grieving someone while also grieving the version of yourself that tried to fit into spaces that never honoured all of who you are. You might be navigating family systems that don't have room for your queerness or your mental health needs. You might be carrying cultural expectations about how grief "should" look, while your actual grief feels nothing like that.

That's the work we do together. And watching you find your way through that? That's not depressing. That's powerful.

Why Do People Think Grief Therapy Must Be So Heavy?

I think it comes down to how we talk about grief in general. We treat it like it's only about loss, only about what's gone. And sure, that's part of it. But grief is also about what remains. What you're learning. Who you're becoming.

Generic therapy articles don't often talk about this. They don't address the ways your grief intersects with your identity, your community's expectations, or the reality that some of us have been grieving long before this specific loss.

But in my work? We talk about all of it. The messy, complicated, beautiful, painful all of it.

What Gives Me Hope as a Grief Therapist?

You know what I see that makes this work so hopeful? I see people at their worst, and then a transformation happens right in front of me. I am always so proud of what you can accomplish, what you can do, who you become as you learn to hold onto your grief.

Because that's the secret: you don't "get over" grief. You learn to carry it. And in learning to carry it, you often become someone who knows themselves better. Someone who lives more honestly. Someone who has capacity for deep feeling and deep connection.

I've watched clients:

• Come out to their families after loss showed them life's too short to hide

• Leave jobs that were sucking their life force because grief clarified what actually matters

• Start the creative projects they'd been putting off forever

• Build chosen family when biological family couldn't show up the way they needed

• Reconnect with cultural or spiritual practices their grief brought them back to

• Set boundaries they never thought they could set before

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That's not sad work. That's sacred work.

Could Grief Therapy Actually Help Me?

If you're reading this and wondering whether therapy could help you with your grief, I want to offer you this: you don't have to have it all figured out. You don't have to grieve the "right" way. You don't have to be eloquent or composed or anything other than exactly where you are.

Therapy isn't about me fixing you or giving you a roadmap. It's about walking alongside you. Offering tools and reflections as options, not prescriptions. Listening deeply to what your grief is teaching you, even when it feels like chaos.

You get to be messy. You get to have big questions. You get to grieve in a way that makes sense for you, your identity, and your experiences.

And through that process? You might just find parts of yourself you didn't know were there.

What makes grief therapy different:

• You're not pathologized for your feelings

• Your cultural and identity experiences are centred, not ignored

• There's no timeline for your grief

• We explore what grief is revealing about what matters to you now

• You're given permission to transform, not just "heal"

  
  

Holding Grief With You

So no, my job isn't depressing. It's hopeful. It's honest. It's real.

And if you're carrying grief right now, whether it's fresh or it's been years, whether it's the loss of a person or the loss of who you thought you'd be, I want you to know: there's space for you here. In Surrey, Coquitlam, Greater Vancouver, and online, I'm here to walk alongside you.

You don't have to carry this alone. And on the other side of reaching out? You might find not just support, but a version of yourself that you didn't know you were becoming.

If any of this resonates with you, I'd love to connect. Book a consultation and let's talk about what grief counselling could look like for you. No pressure, no judgment, just an honest conversation about where you are and what you need.

Frequently Asked Questions About Grief Therapy

How long does grief counselling usually take?

There's no set timeline for grief work. Some people find what they need in a few months, others work with me for a year or more. Your grief gets to move at its own pace, and we'll figure out together what feels right for you.

Do you only work with people who've had someone die?

Not at all. I work with all kinds of grief: loss of relationships, loss of identity, loss of dreams or futures you thought you'd have, estrangement from family, loss of culture or community. If you're grieving, you belong here.

What if my family or community doesn't understand why I need therapy for grief?

That's really common, especially in communities where therapy isn't normalized or where collective grief is prioritized over individual processing. Part of our work can include helping you honour both your community's grief practices and your own personal needs.

Can grief therapy help if my loss happened a long time ago?

Absolutely. Grief doesn't have an expiration date. Whether your loss was last month or ten years ago, if it's affecting you now, it's worth exploring.

What makes your approach different for BIPOC and LGBTQ+ folks?

I understand that your grief doesn't exist separately from your identity. We'll talk about how racism, homophobia, transphobia, and cultural expectations show up in your grief. You won't have to explain or justify your experiences to me.