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You’re Not Crazy—You’re Grieving:: 6 Steps for Surviving Loss
After a significant loss, it’ s common to feel like we’ re going crazy. The sudden absence of someone we love is not only devastating, it’ s disorienting.
The first year or two of grief is often unbelievably painful and confusing. We’ re in shock, often for weeks or months. Time seems out of whack. We feel powerless, helpless, and ineffective. We can’ t think straight; we can’ t get anything done. Our moods swing wildly, and we say and do crazy things. We cry, and we cling to objects that belonged to the person who died. We have bizarre dreams. We think we hear, see, or experience communications from the person who died. We wonder if we can (or should) go on. And through it all, our minds and hearts return over and over again to the impossible reality that can never again talk to or touch a person who lived and breathed and gave our lives so much meaning.
There is nothing more challenging than the early weeks and months of a major life loss. But this compassionate book, by one of the world’ s most respected grief counselors, will help you endure. In his many years of counseling those in grief, the most common question Dr. Wolfelt is asked is, “ Am I going crazy?” Yes, you may feel like
The first year or two of grief is often unbelievably painful and confusing. We’ re in shock, often for weeks or months. Time seems out of whack. We feel powerless, helpless, and ineffective. We can’ t think straight; we can’ t get anything done. Our moods swing wildly, and we say and do crazy things. We cry, and we cling to objects that belonged to the person who died. We have bizarre dreams. We think we hear, see, or experience communications from the person who died. We wonder if we can (or should) go on. And through it all, our minds and hearts return over and over again to the impossible reality that can never again talk to or touch a person who lived and breathed and gave our lives so much meaning.
There is nothing more challenging than the early weeks and months of a major life loss. But this compassionate book, by one of the world’ s most respected grief counselors, will help you endure. In his many years of counseling those in grief, the most common question Dr. Wolfelt is asked is, “ Am I going crazy?” Yes, you may feel like
- GenresGrief
144 pages, Paperback
Published April 1, 2023
6 people are currently reading
72 people want to read
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Displaying 1 - 8 of 8 reviews
September 18, 2025
Was not helpful for grieving at all.
February 3, 2025
Very good book. I recommend everyone that has lost someone close to them to read it. It’s true, you really do think you’re going insane, this book makes everything relatable.
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February 5, 2023Oh my, I really could have used this one when I lost my dad. You can absolutely feel like you're losing your mind and nothing makes sense.
May 27, 2023
If you’ve seen WandaVision (which you should because it was fantastic!), and perhaps even if you haven’t, you’ve heard one of the best encapsulations of grief there is, “But what is grief if not love persevering?” Because that is what grief is: love, and that’s also why, contrary to some myth-making about grief and our grief-phobia culture, there is no “end” to grief because you wouldn’t stop loving the object of the grief. My co-workers, who deal with grief, were reading Dr. Alan Wolfelt’s recently released 2023 book, You’re Not Crazy — You’re Grieving: 6 Steps for Surviving Loss, and I decided to read it, too.
Early on, Wolfelt offers a caveat about his use of “crazy.” Within mental health circles, crazy rightly has a negative connotation for further stigmatizing those with mental illness, but within a grief context, Wolfelt argues that “crazy” in the truest sense of the term accurately depicts the grief experience: shattering, and it’s that shattering that makes those experiencing grief feel like they are going crazy. Death, as inevitable and “normal” a process in life as it is, never feels appropriate or timely, and as such, we experience it like an abhorrent aberration, knocking us topsy-turvy from our “normal” lives while the world keeps on spinning, and even eventually, our own world by necessity, keeps on spinning. It’s a disorienting feeling and the various ways grief manifests itself short-term and long-term has a crazy-making sheen to it.
Dr. Wolfelt is a grief counselor and Director of the Center for Loss and Life Transition. He’s written a number of books over the past 30 years about grief. This one, even though its subtitle is, “Six Steps for Surviving Loss,” isn’t arranged as if they ought to go in sequence, or within any particular time frame in mind, or even a set way of going through the steps. Because grief is unique and particular to every individual experiencing it, fascinatingly, even individuals experiencing the same loss.
Grief as a subject interests me in a few ways. First, professionally, given what I do now and the people I interact with at a Donate Life organization. Second, on an intellectual level — which can be dangerous because I have a tendency to intellectualize as a way of distancing myself from my own grief — in trying to understand how it is that human beings experience traumatic loss, and conversely, the healthy ways to deal with it. Third, for my own personal reasons, I like to try to better wrap my head around grief. Again, even though I can understand it on an intellectual level, and to be sure, much of Wolfelt’s book wasn’t anything new for me in that regard, I still want to do the “work” to understand grief. I’ve talked before how after my break-up with ex-girlfriend, which is a loss of a kind, even if it’s not death, I engaged in grief-avoidance for nearly two years rather than examining how I was feeling and expressing how I was feeling. The same is true after the loss of my family pet two years ago. Instead of writing about it (which I did the previous time I lost a pet) or engaging with my feelings, I avoided it. I avoided those grief feelings with my ex and my pet for the same reason many people avoid engaging with grief feelings: it’s painful, and it sucks. This is what Wolfelt says is “carried grief,” grief that has not been fully acknowledged and mourned; it’s “unembarked mourning.”
Wolfelt argues counterintuitively that before we can go forward in our grief, we necessarily need to go backward. To examine those feelings, to engage with them, to remember (not just the death itself or the loss, but all the memories of the person or object of loss). “Moving on” isn’t a healthy way of thinking about dealing with grief. Rather, grief is a circuitous path, circling you back to the past, the present, and the future, through pain, loss, joy, love, and everything in between, with plenty of retreading.
The reason grief is difficult to experience beyond the obvious fact of a death or loss is that there is something else that dies or is suddenly absent in the wake of a death or a loss: your identity and placement within the world. There is the you before the death or loss, and then there is you after the death or loss. Part of the “work” of grief is figuring out and coming to terms with that new identity, and it’s an identity that will subsume the grief, as it softens (and it will inevitability soften, which doesn’t mean you still won’t experience acute feelings of painful grief years down the road because grief is messy and that’s okay!), throughout the rest of your life.
I’m not going to go through all six steps Wolfelt outlines (otherwise, why bother getting the book yourself?!), but I think there are common themes worth elucidating:
- You are both in control and not in control, which seems paradoxical: You are in control of how you respond to grief, but you are not in control of what caused the grief. The sooner you release the illusion of control before your eyes in regards to the latter, the better.
- The pain of grief sucks, but as we know, pain is a learning lesson. Just like with physical pain, pain tells us something is wrong, and that gives us reason to address it.
- Being so-called “hysterical” in grief and feeling crazy is normal and okay; don’t let people tell you otherwise. Relatedly, there is no “failing” at grief. Because again, it is unique for everyone.
- In my line of work, telling the story of your grief is important, healthy, and cathartic. No, catharsis is not therapy (individual and/or group), but it is helpful. Telling the story doesn’t mean only telling the moment of death or loss, but also all that encompasses the person you loved and are still loving through your mourning.
- Even after death and loss, as you navigate this new world of grief seemingly coloring everything, eventually, you have to embrace love, meaning, awe, and joy again because you deserve it. You do not need to feel guilty for experiencing those positives again. Upgrading from merely surviving your grief to fulling living again is, for lack of a better word, the “goal” when working through your grief. The grief will always be there, but you can find ways to make room for love, meaning, awe, and joy, too.
I think there are two things worth emphasizing when it comes to how other people react to your grief: 1.) It’s unavoidable that you will encounter those who offer the usual platitudes we are familiar with (“At least you had him for as long as you did.” or “I guess God needed her in heaven.” or “He’s in a better place.”), but try to have grace with those people, if you can, because they likely mean well; and 2.) Those who try to discourage or judge you for your “grief-bursts,” as Wolfelt calls them, isn’t really about you, but about them. They are the ones uncomfortable with what grief looks like, and would prefer you calm yourself down to make themselves feel more comfortable.
A delicate balance to walk, too, and I’m still admittedly trying to wrap my own head around it, is how to be supportive of someone experiencing grief, especially if you yourself have experienced a loss. That is, humans have a tendency to turn it back around on themselves (but with good intentions!), “I know how you feel; I lost my husband two years ago. This is what I did …” That’s problematic because you’re turning the focus away from that person’s grief, and then you’re likely to move into how you responded to the loss, despite how individual grief responses are for everyone. And yet, also, Wolfelt says grief support groups can be beneficial. At my job, I know this to be true. Just being in a room with other people who have also gone through a traumatic loss can be beneficial. Perhaps the difference is that unlike the former, the latter you’re going into it willingly rather than having it thrust upon you in conversation.
If you’ve experienced death and loss and the unwelcome painful feelings of grief, but haven’t thought much about grief or how to navigate through it, I think Wolfelt’s book is helpful as a sort of gentle, nonjudgmental guide. It’s also short and presented well to make it readily accessible rather than overwhelming, especially if you’re in the early stages of grief.
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Early on, Wolfelt offers a caveat about his use of “crazy.” Within mental health circles, crazy rightly has a negative connotation for further stigmatizing those with mental illness, but within a grief context, Wolfelt argues that “crazy” in the truest sense of the term accurately depicts the grief experience: shattering, and it’s that shattering that makes those experiencing grief feel like they are going crazy. Death, as inevitable and “normal” a process in life as it is, never feels appropriate or timely, and as such, we experience it like an abhorrent aberration, knocking us topsy-turvy from our “normal” lives while the world keeps on spinning, and even eventually, our own world by necessity, keeps on spinning. It’s a disorienting feeling and the various ways grief manifests itself short-term and long-term has a crazy-making sheen to it.
Dr. Wolfelt is a grief counselor and Director of the Center for Loss and Life Transition. He’s written a number of books over the past 30 years about grief. This one, even though its subtitle is, “Six Steps for Surviving Loss,” isn’t arranged as if they ought to go in sequence, or within any particular time frame in mind, or even a set way of going through the steps. Because grief is unique and particular to every individual experiencing it, fascinatingly, even individuals experiencing the same loss.
Grief as a subject interests me in a few ways. First, professionally, given what I do now and the people I interact with at a Donate Life organization. Second, on an intellectual level — which can be dangerous because I have a tendency to intellectualize as a way of distancing myself from my own grief — in trying to understand how it is that human beings experience traumatic loss, and conversely, the healthy ways to deal with it. Third, for my own personal reasons, I like to try to better wrap my head around grief. Again, even though I can understand it on an intellectual level, and to be sure, much of Wolfelt’s book wasn’t anything new for me in that regard, I still want to do the “work” to understand grief. I’ve talked before how after my break-up with ex-girlfriend, which is a loss of a kind, even if it’s not death, I engaged in grief-avoidance for nearly two years rather than examining how I was feeling and expressing how I was feeling. The same is true after the loss of my family pet two years ago. Instead of writing about it (which I did the previous time I lost a pet) or engaging with my feelings, I avoided it. I avoided those grief feelings with my ex and my pet for the same reason many people avoid engaging with grief feelings: it’s painful, and it sucks. This is what Wolfelt says is “carried grief,” grief that has not been fully acknowledged and mourned; it’s “unembarked mourning.”
Wolfelt argues counterintuitively that before we can go forward in our grief, we necessarily need to go backward. To examine those feelings, to engage with them, to remember (not just the death itself or the loss, but all the memories of the person or object of loss). “Moving on” isn’t a healthy way of thinking about dealing with grief. Rather, grief is a circuitous path, circling you back to the past, the present, and the future, through pain, loss, joy, love, and everything in between, with plenty of retreading.
The reason grief is difficult to experience beyond the obvious fact of a death or loss is that there is something else that dies or is suddenly absent in the wake of a death or a loss: your identity and placement within the world. There is the you before the death or loss, and then there is you after the death or loss. Part of the “work” of grief is figuring out and coming to terms with that new identity, and it’s an identity that will subsume the grief, as it softens (and it will inevitability soften, which doesn’t mean you still won’t experience acute feelings of painful grief years down the road because grief is messy and that’s okay!), throughout the rest of your life.
I’m not going to go through all six steps Wolfelt outlines (otherwise, why bother getting the book yourself?!), but I think there are common themes worth elucidating:
- You are both in control and not in control, which seems paradoxical: You are in control of how you respond to grief, but you are not in control of what caused the grief. The sooner you release the illusion of control before your eyes in regards to the latter, the better.
- The pain of grief sucks, but as we know, pain is a learning lesson. Just like with physical pain, pain tells us something is wrong, and that gives us reason to address it.
- Being so-called “hysterical” in grief and feeling crazy is normal and okay; don’t let people tell you otherwise. Relatedly, there is no “failing” at grief. Because again, it is unique for everyone.
- In my line of work, telling the story of your grief is important, healthy, and cathartic. No, catharsis is not therapy (individual and/or group), but it is helpful. Telling the story doesn’t mean only telling the moment of death or loss, but also all that encompasses the person you loved and are still loving through your mourning.
- Even after death and loss, as you navigate this new world of grief seemingly coloring everything, eventually, you have to embrace love, meaning, awe, and joy again because you deserve it. You do not need to feel guilty for experiencing those positives again. Upgrading from merely surviving your grief to fulling living again is, for lack of a better word, the “goal” when working through your grief. The grief will always be there, but you can find ways to make room for love, meaning, awe, and joy, too.
I think there are two things worth emphasizing when it comes to how other people react to your grief: 1.) It’s unavoidable that you will encounter those who offer the usual platitudes we are familiar with (“At least you had him for as long as you did.” or “I guess God needed her in heaven.” or “He’s in a better place.”), but try to have grace with those people, if you can, because they likely mean well; and 2.) Those who try to discourage or judge you for your “grief-bursts,” as Wolfelt calls them, isn’t really about you, but about them. They are the ones uncomfortable with what grief looks like, and would prefer you calm yourself down to make themselves feel more comfortable.
A delicate balance to walk, too, and I’m still admittedly trying to wrap my own head around it, is how to be supportive of someone experiencing grief, especially if you yourself have experienced a loss. That is, humans have a tendency to turn it back around on themselves (but with good intentions!), “I know how you feel; I lost my husband two years ago. This is what I did …” That’s problematic because you’re turning the focus away from that person’s grief, and then you’re likely to move into how you responded to the loss, despite how individual grief responses are for everyone. And yet, also, Wolfelt says grief support groups can be beneficial. At my job, I know this to be true. Just being in a room with other people who have also gone through a traumatic loss can be beneficial. Perhaps the difference is that unlike the former, the latter you’re going into it willingly rather than having it thrust upon you in conversation.
If you’ve experienced death and loss and the unwelcome painful feelings of grief, but haven’t thought much about grief or how to navigate through it, I think Wolfelt’s book is helpful as a sort of gentle, nonjudgmental guide. It’s also short and presented well to make it readily accessible rather than overwhelming, especially if you’re in the early stages of grief.
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February 10, 2024
Compassionate. Practical.
November 4, 2024
I just have to laugh at the fact that I read this book and that I read it all today or I’ll just cry.
January 7, 2025
A mirror and a balm for the terrible pendulum of loss. At a time when I have no idea what to do or what I need, this book is exactly what I needed.
January 3, 2025
This book has been really helpful in keeping me sane. The writing is very friendly and compassionate which feels like a nice warm hug. The steps are easy to read and what I really appreciate is how it is a grief book that works for non-religious folks. Thank you for writing this book!
Displaying 1 - 8 of 8 reviews