When Gratitude Feels Impossible
Grief is hard.
It’s heavy.
It’s an impossible burden to carry.
It’s heavy.
It’s an impossible burden to carry.
It feels like you’re always going to feel this way. You’re angry, sad, overwhelmed, and completely spent. There are endless questions — Why did this happen? Why do I have to feel this way? When will it stop? You can’t imagine ever moving through the grief to the other side. And part of you doesn’t even want to, because that might mean you’re forgetting.
Grief can feel intense, exhausting, and completely unfair.
I get it. I experienced all of this when my husband passed. Some days, the weight of it all made it nearly impossible to get out of bed. Other days brought a brief sense of relief — only to be followed by guilt because maybe I wasn't missing him enough.
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Creating a Healing Environment at Home
Working through grief takes time, prayer, and grace. It also takes mental clarity—something that’s hard to find when our bodies are burdened by toxins.
Every day, we’re surrounded by chemicals that may seem harmless but quietly add to our toxic load: synthetic fragrances, harsh cleaners, and products that promise “freshness” but leave behind unseen residue. When our bodies are constantly working to detoxify, it can leave us drained—physically and emotionally.
I’ve learned firsthand that grief recovery isn’t just emotional or spiritual; it’s physical too. Our bodies carry the weight of our emotions, and when they’re overwhelmed, everything feels harder. But when we remove unnecessary toxins, we lighten that load. Suddenly, there’s more space for peace, energy, and hope to take root.
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How Toxins Can Complicate Grief and Healing
Grief is already heavy. It drains our energy, fogs our thinking, and can leave us feeling like we’re moving through life in slow motion. But what if some of that heaviness isn’t just emotional? What if our bodies are also burdened by something physical—like the toxins in our home?
When we’re surrounded by harsh chemicals—cleaners, air fresheners, scented candles, personal care products—our bodies work overtime trying to process and eliminate them. Every spray, wipe, or wash adds to what’s called our toxic load. And for someone already walking through grief, that added burden can make healing even harder.
Our bodies and emotions are deeply connected. When our systems are overwhelmed, we can experience more fatigue, brain fog, irritability, sadness, and even physical pain. It can make grief feel heavier, depression more pronounced, and our energy almost nonexistent.
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Not all losses come at once. Some unfold slowly, and others only become clear much later. When Jon became sick and eventually passed away, I discovered layer after layer of loss I wasn’t prepared for.
Some of those losses happened gradually. As Jon’s cancer progressed, he wasn’t able to handle the responsibilities he once carried. Slowly, the things he took care of became mine to manage. Dinner around the table as a family grew less frequent as his appetite faded. The dreams we once talked about for our future—retirement, travel, growing old together—slipped away piece by piece. And as his illness worsened, my sense of direction vanished. My “map” for life had always included Jon, and when his journey ended, mine felt blank.
Other losses became painfully clear after he was gone. Jon was my safe place. I could share my fears, my struggles, and even my shortcomings without judgment. He knew me completely and loved me anyway. Without him, I felt exposed and unanchored. I also lost my encourager—the one who reminded me of what I was doing well, who cheered me on in motherhood, in faith, and in life. His words carried me through so many seasons, and their absence left a deep silence.
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When a loved one dies, it’s easy to see what is lost. But the loss is so much bigger than just the person.
When my husband Jon passed away, I had no idea the magnitude of loss I was facing. Of course, I grieved losing him—but as the days and months went on, I realized there were so many other pieces of my life that disappeared with him.
One of the hardest parts was the loss of identity. Overnight, I went from being a wife to being a widow. I had also been Jon’s caregiver for 3 ½ years, a role I never expected to take on but one that became my full-time job. Suddenly, that role was gone, and I was left with empty hands and an aching heart, unsure of what to do with myself. I also became a single mom in an instant, carrying the weight of parenting alone while grieving at the same time. On top of that I had to adjust to losing my identity as a pastor’s wife. For years, that had shaped the way people saw me and my role in the church, and it took a long time to unravel and learn how to simply be a regular church member.
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