Day 2: The Grief Writing Ritual — Ink as Medicine, Truth as Companion

My Grief Writing Ritual today.

Grief has a way of rearranging the psyche. Sometimes it feels like a sudden crash, and other times it’s more like the slow erosion of a shoreline — subtle, steady, and undeniably real.

Today’s ritual, The Grief Writing Ritual, wasn’t easy for me to approach. I almost skipped it.

Not because I don’t believe in the practice — I do. But because I am grieving right now. Flicka leaving the ranch isn’t death, but it is separation — and separation carries its own flavor of ache. The herd feels different. My body feels different. There is an absence I didn’t prepare for.

And I had that familiar internal debate:

“Is it badass to do this anyway? Or is it foolish to push through?”

The answer surprised me: Grief isn’t about Loner-Vibes. And it isn’t performative.

It’s raw & honest & human.

Badassery was never about being impenetrable.

Badassery is presence — even when your voice shakes, even when your edges are tender, even when you’re not ready but you’re willing.

This ritual meets grief where it actually lives: in sensation, in memory, in the primitive places of the nervous system that don’t speak English but do speak ink, pressure, repetition, and rhythm.

Let’s begin. A full demonstration (coming soon) will be posted on YouTube.

⚠️ Step 1 — Tenderness: Measure Your Emotional Readiness

Before you pick up a pen, pause.

• What does your body feel like today?

• Is your chest tight?

• Are you held enough to do this?

• Do you have tissues nearby, tea ready, someone you could text afterward if needed?

This ritual is not meant to bulldoze you. It’s meant to meet you.

Go in only as far as your system allows.

You are not trying to be heroic.You’re trying to be true.

✍️ Step 2 — Name the Grief

Take a blank page.Write phrases that align with your grief.

Not the socially correct version.Not the tidy, Instagram-ready sentence.

I mean the raw one.

• “She’s gone and I don’t know what to do with this ache.”

• “The herd is wrong without her.”

• “I’m not ready for this change.”

• “I miss what was familiar.”

Whatever your truth is, put it down.

There is meaning in the moment of ink meeting paper.There is magic in naming what hurts.

🔁 Step 3 — Rewrite It. Again and Again.

This is where the somatic processing begins.

Write the honest shapes of syllables again. Form them again. And again.

Not for performance — for release. For metabolization. Dark and Deepen the page.

Repetition in somatic work functions like a drumbeat. It gives the body permission to move from “holding” into “letting go.”

Eventually the ink becomes heavier. Or shakier. Or the phrase changes. Or it doesn’t.

Both are valid.

Pause when something shifts — even microscopically.

That shift matters. That shift is your shore.

🫂 Step 4 — Wrap Yourself + Rock Gently

This ritual is not complete without down-regulation.

We’ve stirred the emotional waters.Now the body needs containment.

Wrap yourself in a blanket. Sit back. Rock if it feels natural — the nervous system recognizes this motion as ancient safety.

Think of it as self-parenting your grief. Not fixing it. Holding it.

📜 Step 5 — Place the Page Somewhere Meaningful

Where does this grief want to live for now?

• On your altar

• In a drawer

• Under your pillow

• Between book pages

• In a box

• In the soil

Placement is symbolic. Grief is relational — where you put it is a declaration of that relationship.

You’re not discarding your pain.You’re giving it a home.

🌱 Bonus Prompt — What Does Your Grief Long For Today?

Grief has desire. It may want:

• Witnessing

• Quiet

• Comfort

• Movement

• Solitude

• Touch

• Warmth

• Rest

• Storytelling

• Permission

Ask it. Trust the first answer. It’s usually the most honest one.

Why This Ritual Works

This ritual weaves together somatic, emotional, and symbolic processing:

• Writing activates cognitive clarity and emotional expression.

• Repetition allows for nervous system discharge and emotional shift.

• Blanket-wrapping and rocking down-regulate the system after activation.

• Placement of the page establishes containment and safe holding.

It’s a complete loop — activation, expression, regulation, integration.

And most importantly: it is gentle.

Grief does not respond to force. It responds to presence.

Closing Reflection

I didn’t want to do this ritual today. I felt too tender. Too disrupted.

But doing it reminded me:

Badassery is not being unbreakable. Badassery is honoring what breaks you — and choosing to stay present anyway.

If you’re grieving anything right now — a person, a separation, a chapter, a change, a version of yourself — this ritual is for you.

Take it slow.Take it honestly.Take it as you are.

Your grief has a place here.