Grief

You Can’t Hurry Grief, Healing, and Growth

July 24, 2026

Photo by Ann Fossa on Unsplash

Despite years of fighting against it, I can’t seem to break the habit of being in a hurry. Wash the dishes and tidy the kitchen—hurry! Have a bunch of errands to do? Calculate the most efficient way to accomplish them all and drive faster than the speed limit to do so. Have your life upended by the deaths of important people (and animals), move, renovate a house, say goodbye to your last paying writing client, and survive a major hurricane—hurry up and recover from all that grief, stress, and change.

I’ve written several times about how the events of the past few years have challenged and broken me, and also about how I’m beginning to heal. I apologize if you’re sick of these topics. I’m a little sick of them myself, but they continue to be in the forefront of my mind and I continue to learn that you just can’t hurry things like grief, healing, and growth.

Healing staggers forward, swerves sideways, collapses on itself. One day I can be putting clean laundry away and think, “Hey, I feel pretty energetic today!” The next, a handful of errands leaves me exhausted and wanting a nap. I need to stop declaring the process done, even to myself.

My old life truly has been broken into pieces and a new one is slowly taking shape out of the rubble. I very much identify with Janice MacLeod’s words: “A lot of life was breaking down. I’m still in the crumble of some of it. I call that stage What am I gonna do what am I gonna do what am I gonna dooooo….” 

I feel you, Janice. I still don’t know what I’m “gonna dooooo” with the rest of my life.

I do know that I’m not going to rush it. I’m looking for clues in things that spark my curiosity, activities that bring delight, and routines that produce deep satisfaction. I question “the way I’ve always done it,” and open my mind and heart to alternatives. I’m very grateful for the privilege of time to sort all this out. This time of transition is taking longer than I expected.

And while you can’t—shouldn’t—hurry growth and healing, I’ve learned a few ways you can support it. If you are also recovering from a hard time, please be gentle with yourself. Don’t berate yourself for not being “over it.” Spend a lot of time listening to your inner voice. At my saddest, I drowned out internal whispers with music, comfort TV, podcasts, audiobooks—anything to distract myself from the spiraling pain and longing which filled my thoughts. As I’ve felt stronger, I’ve begun to welcome quiet times of reflection and listening, often with journal in hand.

For me, resting has been crucial: going to bed early, taking naps when necessary. Carefully guarding energy levels, because when I’m exhausted, my thoughts take a darker turn.

Of course, reading books that touch on grief, healing, and navigating hard times has been helpful, as well as sharing thoughts (and many quotes and memes) with a trusted friend going through many of the same experiences. Reminders that I’m not alone.

I’m not declaring the growth and healing process done—I know better than that now. I expect bad days will continue as new grief milestones appear. I’m not rushing into any major changes, and I am allowing a slower pace of daily life while still fulfilling responsibilities to running my household and supporting my husband who has done so much to support me.

A new normal is on the horizon, though I can only see the faintest of outlines. On good days, I welcome it. This is a good day.

Busy-ness

Spring Rerun--What's the Rush?

May 13, 2019


I’m still on my own personal spring break right now, doing my best to rest and slow down. Here is a post from 2014 that shows this is an ongoing issue for me. Maybe for you, too?

“Slowness is an option for everyone on the planet, not just a privilege reserved for the very wise or very young or very rich. All of us can decide (and the phrase is a potent one)
to take our time.”
—Christian McEwen, World Enough and Time

For the past few weeks, I’ve been experimenting with deliberately slowing down my actions. I’ve been surprised by how many times I catch myself rushing, as opposed to simply moving efficiently and deliberately. When I take the dog’s medications out of the cupboard, when I get out of the car to go inside, when I unload the dishwasher—I feel an internal push to hurry. (Gretchen Rubin describes this feeling perfectly in Happier at Home: “I always have the feeling that I should be working. I always feel pressed for time, as if someone were shoving a pistol in my back and muttering ‘Move, move, move!’”) I’m already aware that when I hurry I break things and hurt myself, and I really don’t need to hurry every minute of every day, so what gives?

It’s at least partly the familiar and eternal battle between doing and being. No matter how hard I try, it seems that I can’t shake the feeling that if I’m not doing something (or hurrying on to the next something) then I’m not worthy. No matter how much I streamline my do-do list, there’s always more to do than I’ll ever be able to accomplish. Hurry has become a habit. One I’m determined to break.

Even with my new focus on not hurrying, and even though I’ve written several blog posts about the concepts of doing less and slowing down (see “Do Less in More Time” and “One Less Thing,” for example), I still struggle to follow my own advice. Take last Thursday. First, while driving home from the grocery store, I stopped too quickly at a stop sign, spilling my coffee into the cup holder and down the center console. After I cleaned that up and got the groceries unloaded, instead of just chilling for a few minutes, I got caught up on the computer and was late leaving for yoga class. I barely had time to take off my shoes, drop my keys and roll out my mat before it started. I felt flustered, distracted and off balance for at least half the class and the quality of my poses suffered. After lunch, while on the way to run an errand with no timetable, I realized I had a death grip on the steering wheel as I tried to hit every traffic light just right.

Slow down there, girl.

After that, I started reminding myself of a principle Natural Horsemanship practitioner Pat Parelli often refers to: Go slower to go faster. Here’s an example in action: that five seconds I saved by hurrying to go in the house is more than eaten up by the time it takes me to retrieve the mail from beneath the car where I just dropped it. If I’d taken my time in the first place, I’d already be inside (in the air conditioning) rather than crawling on the floor of the garage.  

When I remember to slow down, time does seem to lengthen. I’m able to move more smoothly from one thing to another without feeling internal pressure goading me on. So I’ll continue to pay attention to the speed at which I move. Keep saying no to busy work and rushing. Value the time and space between activities as much as the activities themselves. Seek out activities with a slower pace. And I’ll keep working on taking my time.

What makes you feel rushed? How do you slow down?

No rushing allowed

Being vs. doing

What's the Rush?

May 12, 2014

“Slowness is an option for everyone on the planet, not just a privilege reserved for the very wise or very young or very rich. All of us can decide (and the phrase is a potent one)
to take our time.”
—Christian McEwen, World Enough and Time

For the past few weeks, I’ve been experimenting with deliberately slowing down my actions. I’ve been surprised by how many times I catch myself rushing, as opposed to simply moving efficiently and deliberately. When I take the dog’s medications out of the cupboard, when I get out of the car to go inside, when I unload the dishwasher—I feel an internal push to hurry. (Gretchen Rubin describes this feeling perfectly in Happier at Home: “I always have the feeling that I should be working. I always feel pressed for time, as if someone were shoving a pistol in my back and muttering ‘Move, move, move!’”) I’m already aware that when I hurry I break things and hurt myself, and I really don’t need to hurry every minute of every day, so what gives?

It’s at least partly the familiar and eternal battle between doing and being. No matter how hard I try, it seems that I can’t shake the feeling that if I’m not doing something (or hurrying on to the next something) then I’m not worthy. No matter how much I streamline my do-do list, there’s always more to do than I’ll ever be able to accomplish. Hurry has become a habit. One I’m determined to break.

Even with my new focus on not hurrying, and even though I’ve written several blog posts about the concepts of doing less and slowing down (see “Do Less in More Time” and “One Less Thing,” for example), I still struggle to follow my own advice. Take last Thursday. First, while driving home from the grocery store, I stopped too quickly at a stop sign, spilling my coffee into the cup holder and down the center console. After I cleaned that up and got the groceries unloaded, instead of just chilling for a few minutes, I got caught up on the computer and was late leaving for yoga class. I barely had time to take off my shoes, drop my keys and roll out my mat before it started. I felt flustered, distracted and off balance for at least half the class and the quality of my poses suffered. After lunch, while on the way to run an errand with no timetable, I realized I had a death grip on the steering wheel as I tried to hit every traffic light just right.

Slow down there, girl.

After that, I started reminding myself of a principle Natural Horsemanship practitioner Pat Parelli often refers to: Go slower to go faster. Here’s an example in action: that five seconds I saved by hurrying to go in the house is more than eaten up by the time it takes me to retrieve the mail from beneath the car where I just dropped it. If I’d taken my time in the first place, I’d already be inside (in the air conditioning) rather than crawling on the floor of the garage.  

When I remember to slow down, time does seem to lengthen. I’m able to move more smoothly from one thing to another without feeling internal pressure goading me on. So I’ll continue to pay attention to the speed at which I move. Keep saying no to busy work and rushing. Value the time and space between activities as much as the activities themselves. Seek out activities with a slower pace. And I’ll keep working on taking my time.

What makes you feel rushed? How do you slow down?

No rushing allowed

Eric Hoffer

Feeling Hurried

September 04, 2013


“The feeling of being hurried is not usually the result of living a full life and having no time. It is on the contrary born of a vague fear that we are wasting our life. When we do not do the one thing we ought to do, we have no time for anything else.”
—Eric Hoffer

Hurry

Slow Down, You Move Too Fast...*

April 15, 2011

And so do I. Do you find yourself constantly hurrying, thinking of the next thing before the current thing is through? Are your days so tightly scheduled—even if you make the schedule, not someone else, as in my case—that one little unexpected event topples the schedule like a row of dominoes?

Yeah, me too.

I know better. We all do. What, exactly, do we expect ourselves to accomplish in our—let’s face it—limited time? This is one reason we have road rage and supermarket rage and rage rage. My husband recently reported that he fidgeted impatiently when he found himself standing in line behind someone at the grocery store who was writing a check. I’ve done the same, and we both admitted we’re moving too fast when the extra 30 seconds it takes the cashier to process a check rather than a debit or credit card transaction causes us to tap a foot in irritation.

Take time to smell me.
My 16-year-old is still learning the ropes of driving, and has already been honked at for not pulling out of a parking lot (in front of oncoming traffic on the main road in our town) quickly enough to suit the woman behind him.

Nature does not hurry, yet everything is accomplished.
~Lao Tzu

I don’t know about you, but this is what happens when I rush:

I break things. Dishes, fingernails, even, recently, my laptop monitor because I rushed to pick it up. I nearly broke my new mini book light when at first I couldn’t figure out how to open the battery door. (Hint: it helps to look at the clearly labeled diagram.)

I hurt myself. I bruise my leg on the open dishwasher door, or the footboard of my son’s bed. I whack my forearm on the doorknob in the hallway, or the back of my head on a fence I’m leaning through.

I hurt others. Being in a rush means my mind is often elsewhere. When this is the case, I’m not looking at or listening to the person right in front of me. (And if I’ve done this to you, let me apologize right now.)

What's your hurry?
“Rushing blinds you to the obvious. Rushing comes from fear and is designed to keep you from looking down into the canyon and seeing how tenuous your perch on the wire is,” writes Heather Sellers, in Chapter After Chapter. She’s talking specifically here about rushing while writing, but I think it’s one reason so many of us rush through our own lives. We’re afraid. Afraid of letting someone down, afraid we’re not accomplishing enough, afraid life is passing us by—when it’s really us passing life by. It will not matter how much you “accomplish” if you’re not paying full attention when you accomplish it.

In order to slow down, I have to make some hard choices. I limit my activities, even, alas, the fun ones, so that I truly experience the ones that remain. I also cut the daily to-do list in half, and I don’t compare what I can get done in a day with what my friend down the street accomplishes. I lower my standards in certain areas. I’m not always successful—but I’m working on it.

Do you find yourself rushing through your days? What have you done, or do you plan to do to slow down?

Most men pursue pleasure with such breathless haste that they hurry past it.
~Soren Kierkegaard


*Thanks for the advice, Simon and Garfunkel