I’ve come to accept that to be human is to ache. We may try to avoid it, to keep the pain away, but our efforts are foolish. Just as a smile will once again cross our face, so will tears stream down our cheeks.

Grief and heartbreak come in many forms. From a loss of someone you love, to life not being what you thought it would be. I know both so well.

I had an acupuncture appointment last week. I arrived in tears. The last few months I have been navigating deep heartbreak following the end of a relationship in the early fall. I have struggled greatly with my emotions throughout the healing, often with feelings of worthlessness and depression rising to the surface. The bucket loads of tears I’ve shed, not enough to wash away the hurt.

So I lie there, on her table, needles poked all over, and more tears fall. These ones are not shoulder-heaving, snotty-nose tears like the ones I walked in with though. No, they simply fall, without fanfare. They are cleansing tears.

An hour later I rise from the table a steadier human. Something has shifted. I’m no longer seeking elusive solace. It has found me, for now at least.

A week or so post-poking, my heart is mending. The balance and strength it gave me last week opened me up to a healing conversation and closure. Now the ache isn’t so deep, the worst wounds have healed.

We are emotionally complex beings. There’s no way to avoid pain, heartbreak or grief. They are our companions in this lifetime, and we need not fear them. We need to feel them. And sometimes seek out a good acupuncturist to get the stuck energy moving, and allow, once again, the grief to transform… into love.

I came across this poem this week and have been sending it to those I know have been struggling recently but we all have grief. In so many forms. And so I share it with you too today:

You Don’t Move On by Donna Ashworth

But you must move ‘with’.
You must shake hands with grief, 
welcome her in,
for she lives with you now.

Pull her a chair at the table
and offer her comfort.
She is not the monster,
you first thought her to be.
She is love.

And she will walk with you now, 
If you let her.


Hold your ache close to your heart. May you feel the love.

Parrish Wilson, lies on a grey couch with her head propped up on her arm while looking at the camera.

Parrish Wilson is a writer and writing therapist. She supports her clients to process life and all it’s complexities through the written word. She works with both individuals and groups, crafting transformational writing experiences. You can read more about her services here.