Keeping Busy (It Won't Work Forever)

Why Do I Keep Myself So Busy After Loss?

You're staying busy because your body is trying to protect you from overwhelming pain. This is a completely natural response to grief, but eventually, those feelings will find their way to the surface.

You know that feeling when you wake up and immediately reach for your phone? When you fill every quiet moment with errands, work emails, cleaning, or scrolling? When you say yes to every request because an empty calendar feels dangerous?

If you've experienced loss, you might recognize this pattern. You're not avoiding grief because you're weak or doing something wrong. You're doing what your nervous system thinks will keep you safe. But here's what I've learned sitting with hundreds of grieving people: busyness is a temporary shelter, not a permanent home.

Let's talk about what really happens when we try to outrun our grief, and why eventually, we need to stop running.

What Happens When I Use Busyness to Avoid Grief?

When you stay constantly busy, you're essentially asking your grief to wait in the other room. And for a while, it does wait. You might go days or even weeks feeling like you're managing just fine. You're getting things done. People might even compliment you on "how well you're handling everything."

But grief doesn't actually leave that room. It just sits there, getting heavier.

Your body keeps the score even when your mind is distracted. You might notice you're exhausted all the time, even though you're sleeping. Or maybe you're not sleeping. You might get sick more often. Your shoulders might live somewhere up near your ears. You could find yourself snapping at people you love over small things, or feeling nothing at all when you used to feel everything.

This is what happens when we resist what needs to be integrated. Whatever we push away will eventually persist, often showing up in ways we don't recognize as grief at all.

For BIPOC folks, there's often an added layer here. Many of us grew up in communities or families where you just "kept going" no matter what. Where taking time to feel your feelings was seen as a luxury, or worse, as weakness. If your parents or grandparents survived things that would break most people, you might carry this belief that you should be able to handle anything without slowing down.

For LGBTQ+ folks, busyness can feel especially safe if your loss isn't recognized by everyone around you. If you lost a partner your family never accepted, or a chosen family member whose significance others minimize, staying busy might feel like the only way to avoid explaining your grief to people who won't understand it anyway.

Can I Ever Just Focus on Regular Life Instead of Grieving?

Yes. And this is important: you're absolutely allowed moments, hours, even days where you focus on life. On your job. On your kids. On paying bills and doing laundry and showing up for the people who need you.

Grief doesn't require you to sit in darkness 24/7, wearing only black, listening to sad songs on repeat. That's not what integration looks like.

You can laugh at a joke and still be grieving. You can enjoy your morning coffee and still miss someone desperately. You can focus on a work project and still be carrying loss. These things aren't contradictory. They're just human.

The difference between healthy engagement with life and avoidance is this: are you allowing yourself to grieve when grief shows up? Or are you constantly redirecting yourself away from any feeling that might crack you open?

Think about it like this. Imagine grief is water. When you try to hold it back completely, you're building a dam that requires constant maintenance and energy. Eventually, that dam will break, and when it does, the flood is overwhelming. But if you let a little water through regularly, if you create small, intentional openings, the flow becomes something you can work with.

Key things to remember about balancing grief and daily life:

• It's okay to have good days where grief feels distant

• You don't have to earn the right to focus on other things

• Compartmentalizing for work or caregiving is different from complete avoidance

• Small, regular doses of feeling are easier to manage than one massive breakdown

• Your grief won't wash you away, even when it feels like it might

How Do I Actually Let Myself Feel Grief Without Falling Apart?

This is the question, isn't it? Because maybe you've tried to feel your feelings before and it did feel like drowning. Or maybe you come from a cultural background where public displays of emotion bring shame to your family. Or maybe you're in survival mode right now and you genuinely cannot afford to fall apart because people depend on you.

All of that is real. And here's what's also real: your grief won't actually wash you away. There may be times when it feels that way. There may be moments when the wave is so big you can't see over it. But waves, by their nature, crest and recede.

You don't have to dive into the deep end all at once. You can start by simply noticing. Notice when you're reaching for busyness to avoid a feeling. You don't even have to stop doing it yet. Just notice.

You might try setting aside ten minutes in a place where you feel safe. Maybe in your car before you go into work. Maybe in the shower. Maybe on a walk where no one can see your face. Let yourself feel whatever comes up for just those ten minutes. Then, if you need to, you can return to your regularly scheduled programming.

For some people, having a grief companion helps. This could be a therapist who gets it, but it could also be a friend who won't try to fix you, or a support group of people who understand your specific experience. Sometimes we need someone to sit with us in the room with grief so it feels less terrifying.

If you're part of a cultural community where therapy is stigmatized, you might frame this differently. You're not "falling apart." You're doing the work of integrating your loss. You're honouring your person by letting yourself feel what their absence means. You're actually showing incredible strength by not pretending everything is fine.

What Does It Look Like to Actually Integrate Loss?

Integration doesn't mean you "get over" your loss. It means you find a way to carry it that doesn't require pretending it isn't there.

It means you can talk about your person without everyone getting awkward. It means their absence becomes part of your story rather than something you have to constantly manage around. It means you can hold both the pain of their loss and the beauty of having loved them.

This work takes time. It takes patience with yourself on the days when grief feels brand new again. It takes finding people and spaces where you can be messy and human and not have to perform being okay.

If you're reading this and recognizing yourself in these words, I want you to know something: you're not broken. You're not grieving wrong. Your instinct to stay busy makes complete sense given everything you're carrying.

And also: you deserve support. You deserve space to feel what you're feeling. You deserve to stop running so hard.

Finding Support That Actually Gets It

Grief and loss therapy, especially with someone who understands the specific ways BIPOC and LGBTQ+ folks experience grief, can give you that space. A place where you don't have to explain why your loss is complicated, or defend why you're still struggling, or pretend you're further along than you are.

I work with people in Surrey, Coquitlam, Greater Vancouver, and online throughout British Columbia. I know what it's like to grieve in communities that don't always make space for it. I know what it means to carry losses that others don't recognize or honour.

If you're tired of running, if you're ready to find a different way through this, I'd be honoured to walk alongside you.

You can book a free 15-minute consultation to see if we're a good fit. No pressure. No judgment. Just a conversation about what you need and whether I might be able to help.

Frequently Asked Questions

How long should I wait before dealing with my grief?

There's no "should" here. Your body and heart will let you know when you're ready to stop running. That said, if you're experiencing physical symptoms, relationship problems, or finding that busyness isn't working anymore, that might be your signal that it's time to find support.

Is it normal to feel fine some days and terrible other days?

Completely normal. Grief isn't linear. You'll have days where you feel okay and days where you don't. Both are part of the process of integration.

What if my culture doesn't believe in therapy?

Many cultures have their own ways of processing grief through community, ritual, or spiritual practice. Therapy can complement these, not replace them. Think of it as adding another tool to your kit, one that offers confidential space just for you.

Will talking about my grief make it worse?

It might feel more intense at first because you're finally letting yourself feel what's been waiting. But talking about grief in a safe space actually helps you integrate it, which ultimately makes it more manageable over time.

How do I know if I need professional help or if I'm grieving normally?

If your grief is interfering with your ability to function, if you're having thoughts of self-harm, if you're using substances to cope, or if you simply feel stuck and alone in your pain, professional support can help. You don't have to wait until things are "bad enough."