They say dealing with grief is never easy, nor does it diminish with time; that much is obvious to the parties left reeling, and less so to everyone outside. It does not shrink in size or stop traumatic memories from randomly invading.

At its most docile, it’s an ever-present invisible handcuff to the past. At its most ferocious, it’s a wrecking ball of fear and failure when you least need it. It carries the tension of a tightly wound bundle of angry rubber bands ready to snap off in a dozen different directions if you so much as dare look at it. But look at it, you must, because its shape is all-encompassing.

Losses come in many forms, each with their own kind of misery. It’s here that Grief first welcomes itself in, like an unruly house guest insistent on tainting every surface it touches. Grief holds no bias in its eager bid to command your attention, regardless of whether you’re lamenting a love lost or spiralling around missed opportunities.

Grief swallows the space and fills the gaps, leaving no room for anyone or anything. It is above your head when you wake up and present when you look in the mirror. It is screaming in your kitchen, reducing all appetites. It is pounding on your bedroom door at night with no care for your exhaustion. It does its best to pull you down as your fingers cling to the edge of sanity. Protests are moot as Grief has no ears. There are no locks that can withhold it.

While the last thing you’d want to do is leave your house, experiencing something, anything new is the only real way to escape the agonising, tormenting, lingering shadow of a mess that Grief brings. A walk to your mailbox is a start and a quiet dinner with a friend will feel like a leap, but either will create the distance necessary for Grief’s echoing wails to be drowned out in the wind.

Let new experiences flood your senses. Grief’s mass will remain through each passing day, but the space it takes up will diminish. No matter how much Grief plays at obstructing your vision, it’ll eventually become more painful to sit still than to start moving. Steal a fleeting moment of peace by stepping outside because it’s this slow practice that begins to rebuild your resilience.

Sure enough, in time, Grief will come knocking again as if it’s worried that you’ll forget about its meaning. But the more distance you create by going on living, calmer silence can regain its footing. Listen to a new song in the car, or seek out a new challenge at work. Take a moment to admire the blue birds in the bath, and smell the salt on the seaside breeze as you walk. New photos, new trinkets, and—dare I say—laughing will help Grief comfortably take a seat in the corner.

Minutes turn into months, ‘What Ifs’ come and go, and those claustrophobic early days eventually get replaced by new memories. Dealing with grief is not a matter of time, but rather a matter of living defiance.

To get out is to trust that it’s still possible to breathe, even with Grief adding weight to your backpack. Your muscles will grow and the straps will adjust when you acknowledge the needs of your travelling companion. Then, when you’re ready, you can pause and check in: “Hey, Grief… listen, I’ve got 5 minutes, so why don’t you tell me where your head’s at?”