Journaling: Laying Planks on the Bridge of Grief

Grief is hard. It can be tedious. Heavy.

But when we can view grief as a bridge to a next phase or season in our lives, we can process the understanding that it is also temporary, it is forward-thinking, and it is necessary.

It’s temporary, because time will pass, and we will get through it. This isn’t “moving on” or “getting over it.” It’s a process we walk through…from inside.

It’s forward-thinking, because even though we are present in the moments of grief, we can consider the “next” even though the thought of it might seem painful during grief. It’s something we can plan for…from the inside.

It’s necessary, because for us to keep living forward…we must be present in, process, and walk through grief…that bridge to the other side of the now. It’s something we can exist in…from the inside.

One of the simplest, most accessible, steady ways to do that, is to be present with grief. And one of the simplest, most accessible, steady ways to be present with grief is…journaling.

If we consider journaling as a way of laying planks on the bridge of grief…we get a very different picture of its process…and purpose.

Why Journaling Matters in Grief

Times of grief touch family, identity, memory, and legacy…all at once.

And if, and when loss stacks…it can sometimes feel disorienting. Sounds weird…but it’s true. You kind of feel lost in the days, the nights, the calls, the planning.

Grief is involuntary. It’s not something you sign up for. It is something you can walk through. Yes…it’s a bridge.

Journaling can be seen as a way of laying the planks on that bridge. It’s active. It’s a safe space or container to express what is true from deep inside you, that keeps you moving forward.

The truth is…grief is complex. It’s not one isolated emotion. It is sadness, yes. But it’s also anger, regret, gratitude, confusion, longing, relief, love…and sometimes even numbness. These emotions can coexist in the same…hour. Swirling.

But, when you write, you slow the swirl. You give language to what feels messy or tangled. And when you name something, that acknowledgement brings it to light and helps it become less chaotic in your brain…in your heart.

Journaling during grief:

• Helps you clarify and express complex emotions you may not fully understand yet.
• Gives you a private, non-judgmental space to simply…tell both your reality and the truth. Sometimes…they’re not the same.
• Supports meaning-making, which is important for long-term healing.
• Allows you to chronicle your journey so you can see movement over time. Because feeling stuck in grief…is the worst.

If you are strategic, think in systems, measure progress...grief may feel like the one area of your life where there is no roadmap. And because that can cause you to feel lost, you may hide or be overly absorbed into something else...simply to exist in the present.

Been there.

But journaling becomes a quiet framework. A place where your inner world can unfold without needing to be…optimized. (Take a breath, after that one.)

The Healing Power of Writing

As a creative, I value writing. But writing is not just expressive. It’s regulating. It’s calming. It’s healing.

There’s something about putting words on paper (without judgement). You move experience from the emotional center of your brain into language and structure. It takes shape.

And that shift alone can reduce its intensity. There’s so much value in that piece…peace.

Here’s another truth: it does not erase pain. But it makes the pain more…well…easier to navigate.

Journaling can help you:

• Articulate pain you haven’t said out loud.
• Explore the hopes and dreams that seemingly died with your loved one.
• Acknowledge the reality that life has changed.
• Notice insights and strength emerging, even if quietly.

Sometimes the act of writing itself is cleansing. Tears fall onto the page. Anger guides your pen. Love softens your tone.

And when you close the journal…each time…there can be a subtle release.

No…everything hasn’t been resolved. But it’s been expressed…forward. Another breath.

Guidelines for Effective Grief Journaling

Fortunately, this structure you’ve created when writing, can feel grounding when everything else feels uncertain. Not a hard structure, where you feel a “pass or fail” around it. It’s not a, “done” kind of thing.

But it is a structure that helps you navigate the process…simpler.

Here are a few simple guidelines that make journaling sustainable and safe:

Choose a consistent time. No, it doesn’t have to be early morning or late at night…unless that works for you. It simply needs to be protected time. A quiet 15–20 minutes is typically enough. If you need longer, you can extend that up to 45 minutes. My encouragement is to avoid pushing yourself past your emotional capacity.
Create a safe physical environment. A chair you love. A candle. Soft light. Your favorite pen. Let your nervous system know...this is not a rushed “task.” This is care.
Be honest. Let me just say it…this is not content for social media. It’s not for your team. It’s not for your family. This for you. Say what you’re feeling. Even if it feels messy. Especially if it feels messy.
Release perfection. There is no right way to journal. You don’t need a grammar tool. You don’t need to sound wise. You only need to BE real.

Let's explore what all of this might look like.

A Structured 40-Day Grief Journal Approach

My experience with grief has been…it does not follow a clean timeline. Sure. They say there are 5 phases. But these aren’t stairs you climb in an order, that take you out of grief.

I’ve found that having a rhythm for expression for 40 days can give you something steady to lean into in the crossing. Forty days is long enough to begin touching multiple layers of emotion, memory, and meaning. It becomes the planks that lead to a new time.

I’ve noticed that 30 days…takes you right up to another memory on the calendar, and that can be triggering. So, 40 days will take you beyond that.

Each day, respond to a focused prompt. Keep it simple. Let the question guide you, but don’t force an outcome. Modify the question in the moment, if you need to. Lay a plank.

Over 40 days, your prompts can move through themes like:

Emotions
– What am I actually feeling today beneath the surface?
– Where do I feel grief in my body?
– What am I angry about? What feels unfair?
– What guilt, if any, is surfacing? Is it rooted in truth or in longing?

Memories
– What is one memory that captures who they were?
– What did I learn from them that I still carry?
– What did they value most?
– What is something about them that makes me smile even now?

Identity and Growth
– How has this loss changed me?
– What part of me feels stronger? What part feels fragile?
– What does living well look like in their honor?
– What would it mean to carry their influence forward intentionally?

Love and Legacy
– How did they love me?
– How did I love them?
– What unfinished words do I need to say?
– What does it look like to keep loving deeply after loss?

You can add other themes that carry you forward for the 40 days. (I’ll provide other questions below, that you can insert where appropriate.)

Over time, this lightly structured reflection encourages you to face what is there rather than suppress it.

And as someone who leads others, you may know this truth: what is ignored does not disappear. It embeds.

Read that again.

Leaning into Difficult Emotions

High-functioning women often manage emotions…efficiently. But grief asks you to feel them…fully.

There may be anger at doctors, circumstances…God…even yourself. There may be guilt over things said or unsaid. There may be resentment that…the world continues as if nothing has happened.

I know that for me, when my brother and I were following the family limo to the cemetery after my sister’s funeral, and we were acknowledging how others were acknowledging my sister…us…by stopping or pulling over as we passed…there was this guy who just kept driving toward and past us and everybody else who had stopped.

My first thought was…”Rude!” Clearly someone who either didn’t notice or didn’t care. And either of those had nothing to do with us.

Then…compassion and forgiveness. Maybe there was something going on in his life that distracted him, at that moment. Good. Bad. We don’t know. We can’t judge. But we do feel things in response.

Regardless. Write it down.

Identify what lies beneath the surface. Sometimes anger is covering feelings of helplessness. Sometimes guilt is covering confusion. Sometimes numbness is protecting overwhelm.

And when you allow yourself to feel and express these emotions on paper, you reduce the likelihood that they will leak out sideways into your work, your leadership, your marriage or other close relationships. This can become an unhealthy pattern.

Navigating the Waves of Grief

Grief can feel like an ocean, that’s for sure. Some days are calm. Other days a memory or date crashes over you without warning. You’re left feeling wiped out.

Journaling helps you track the waves. Hang with me on this one. You may begin to notice patterns. Certain songs trigger you. Certain times of day feel heavier. Certain conversations feel laborious and leave you drained.

When my father passed away, for the next three years, on that anniversary, I would become so sick that I’d be off work for almost, if not, a week. And yes…it took me that long to realize the pattern, acknowledge the feelings, and shift that experience.

This awareness is not about control. It is about stewardship.

You can begin to build strategies and support systems intentionally, from there.

Ask yourself in your writing:

– Who feels safe to talk to when the next wave hits?
– What practices ground me when I feel overwhelmed?
– What boundaries do I need right now?

Intensity often softens over time. Not because you love less. But because your nervous system adjusts, and your journal becomes a witness to that adjustment. It really can become beautiful.

When I’m walking someone through grief, I always tell them, “This sadness won’t go away. But it does change over time. You’ll change. Better.”

Building Connections Through Grief

Grief reveals relationships.

Some friendships will deepen. And that’s beautiful.

Others may feel a bit…shaky or awkward. People don’t always know what to say. Some may unintentionally minimize your pain. Others will sit quietly and hold space.

What do you need?

Write about this.

– Who has shown up consistently?
– Who struggles with my sorrow?
– What support do I actually need?

Acknowledging your social landscape helps you make wise decisions about where to lean in…and where to lower expectations.

Listen…you do not need everyone to understand your grief. You do need a few who are willing to honor it.

Read that again.

Finding Meaning in Grief

Meaning-making is not explaining loss away. It’s really about integrating it.

Try reflecting on what your loved one valued. How did they live? How did they love? How did they impact you?

Consider asking yourself:

– What qualities in me were strengthened because of them? This is meaningful.
– What parts of their character do I want to embody more fully? This is meaningful.
– How can I live in a way that reflects the love we shared? This is meaningful.

So…how can you integrate these things into your life…forward?

For someone who believes life is to be lived on purpose…grief can feel like a disruption to that belief. Journaling allows you to wrestle honestly while still seeking alignment.

Meaning is rarely found in the event itself. I find it’s in how you choose to carry it. And that ties back to stewardship.

Gratitude for Shared Memories

At some point in your writing, you may notice a shift. The sharpness of pain is still there, but gratitude begins to co-exist and calm it.

This does not mean you are “over it.” It means your heart is expanding, and you’re able to hold love and grief in the same space…at the same time. Co-existing in calm.

So, what do you do with that? Write about a specific memory that brings gratitude. Be detailed.

Where were you? What did they say? What did it feel like?

Gratitude doesn’t cancel grief. To me…it dignifies it. It says, “This mattered. They mattered.”

Self-Compassion During Grief

Let me ask you this: Would you ever speak harshly to a friend who just buried a sister? Or a mentor? You would not demand that they perform at peak capacity two weeks later, would you?

Offer yourself that same grace.

In your journal, practice self-compassion:

– What would I say to a client walking through this?
– Where am I being unnecessarily hard on myself?
– What does kindness toward myself look like today?

Self-judgment delays healing. Compassion accelerates it.

Embracing Vulnerability During Grief

There is strength in vulnerability. Not performative vulnerability…but honest vulnerability.

You may not share everything publicly. But you can absolutely write about your willingness to be known in your grief.

– Where am I hiding?
– Where do I feel safe to open up?
– What am I afraid will happen if people see my sorrow?

Vulnerability builds authentic connection, and this is something you can build on with others going forward.

Vulnerability also prevents isolation, which can compound grief.

The Courage to Love Again

After significant loss, there can be an unconscious hesitation to love deeply like that again. It doesn't matter what the relationship...love feels risky. Attachment feels dangerous.

And you can feel these things, even though this may not have been the ONLY person you’ve lost.

Write about that.

– What fears surface when I think about loving fully again?
– How would my loved one want me to continue loving?
– What would it look like to let love expand rather than contract?

Opening your heart again is not betrayal. It’s continuity.

Reflecting on Your Journey

At the end of your 40 days, revisit your earliest entries. You may find some gold there.

Notice:

– What has shifted in tone?
– What emotions have softened?
– What insights have emerged?
– Where do I see resilience I did not recognize before?

What else?

Progress in grief is subtle. It may not look like happiness. It may look more like steadiness. Or clarity. Or the ability to remember without collapsing.

My encouragement to you: Your journal provides evidence of movement. Movement is healthy.

Insights Gained from Writing

Many women are surprised by what journaling reveals. Patterns. Long-held beliefs. Unexpected strength. Deeper faith. Clearer boundaries.

Ask yourself:

– Has writing reduced the intensity of my emotions?
– What have I learned about myself through this process?
– What do I understand now about love, life, and loss that I did not fully understand before?

Grief is not something you conquer. It is something you integrate. Orchestrate. Cross.

Journaling supports all of these.

A Final Word for the Woman Who Leads

If you’re used to guiding others across their bridges, it can feel uncomfortable to admit you are in the middle of your own.

But this, too, is part of your life. This loss. This ache. This love that continues.

Journaling is not about staying in grief. It is about walking through it with intention.

It allows you to honor what was, acknowledge what is, and slowly make peace with what will be.

You do not have to rush your healing.
You do not have to minimize your sorrow.
You do not have to be the strong one every day.

You can sit with your journal.
You can tell the truth from your heart.
You can let the page hold what feels too heavy to carry alone.

And over time, you may find that even in loss, there is depth. There is clarity. There is a quieter strength emerging...from inside you...that is beautiful.

It doesn’t make the pain small.

You were willing to face it…for what it was.

Keep walking!

If you, or someone you know is grieving right now...don't walk this bridge alone. Get the support you need. Therapy. Pastoring. Friends.

And if that's a Bridge Guide...I'm here for you. Contact me HERE. Feel free to...express.

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I'll meet you on the bridge!

Deni