Western Psychology Doesn’t Know How to Hold Your Grief—But Your Ancestors Do
Grief is Not a Disorder—It’s a Sacred Relationship
Grief is not a disorder. It is not something to be rushed through, medicated away, or "processed" in a neat, linear fashion. And yet, in much of Western psychology, that is exactly how it’s framed.
If you’ve ever felt like the world expects you to "move on" too quickly, or like traditional therapy has given you coping mechanisms that don’t actually touch the depth of what you’re carrying, you’re not alone. The Western model of grief is deeply flawed—because it does not know how to sit with death. It does not know how to hold grief as sacred.
But our ancestors did.
The Western Approach to Grief: A System That Pathologizes Loss
In mainstream psychology, grief is often approached through the lens of pathology—as if mourning beyond a certain time frame is a problem to be fixed.
The DSM (Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders) now includes "Prolonged Grief Disorder," defining grief that extends beyond 12 months as potentially disordered. As if grief has an expiration date. As if love ever stops longing.
Therapy, as it is most commonly practiced in the West, often prioritizes cognitive reframing—helping people "think differently" about their grief. There is an emphasis on individualism: How are YOU coping? How can YOU move forward? The implicit message is that grief is something to be managed and eventually resolved.
But grief isn’t a problem to solve. It’s a relationship. A continuum. A living thing that moves through us, shapes us, and connects us to the unseen world.
This individualistic approach to grief is a direct result of Western culture’s discomfort with death itself. In a society that prioritizes productivity and "emotional resilience," grief is seen as an inconvenience rather than a rite of passage. This is why so many people feel pressured to "get back to normal" even when their entire world has changed.
Moreover, Western psychology frequently medicalizes grief, offering pharmaceuticals as a way to manage symptoms rather than addressing the root of the pain. While medication can be helpful in some cases, the tendency to treat grief as something to be "fixed" rather than honored strips it of its sacred nature. True grief work is not about numbing the pain; it’s about creating space to feel it fully, to witness it, and to allow it to transform us.
What Our Ancestors Knew: Grief as Ritual, Relationship, and Sacred Tending
Ifá, the West African spiritual tradition I walk with, does not see grief as something to "overcome." It sees grief as a portal. An invitation.
In Ifá cosmology, death is not the end. The ancestors do not disappear; they transition into a different form, continuing to guide and shape us. To grieve, then, is not to "let go," but to stay in relationship—to honor the love, to pour libations, to speak their names, to listen for their whispers in the wind.
Many Indigenous and ancestral traditions share this understanding. Across cultures, grief was never meant to be carried alone. There were rituals. There were communal spaces. There was time—real time—to wail, to rest, to be held by the land and by the people.
But Western grief models? They tell us to get back to work in three to five business days.
Grief Traditions from Other Cultures: A Wider Perspective
Beyond Ifá, many cultures have grief practices that hold loss as sacred, allowing space for the bereaved to be witnessed and supported. Here are a few examples:
Islamic Mourning Traditions: The deceased is washed and shrouded in white, and a communal prayer (Salat al-Janazah) is recited. In some cultures, recitations of the Qur’an continue for 40 days to honor the soul’s transition.
Día de los Muertos (Mexico): This celebration is not about "moving on" but about maintaining relationships with the dead. Families build altars, share food, and invite their ancestors home.
Buddhist Death Rituals (Tibetan & Zen Buddhism): Chanting, offerings, and prayer help guide the soul on its journey. Death is honored as a transition, not an end.
Shiva (Jewish Tradition): The first seven days after a loss are a sacred time when the bereaved do not work or host; the community comes to sit with them in mourning.
Sápmi Mourning Rituals (Indigenous Sami People): The deceased are remembered through yoiks (ancestral songs), ensuring they remain part of the living world.
Across all these traditions, grief is not seen as something to be "treated." It is something to be tended.
Reclaiming Grief from the Hands of a System That Fails Us
If you’ve been struggling with grief and feeling unseen by traditional approaches, know this: you are not broken. The system is.
Here are some ways we can reclaim grief from the grasp of Western pathology and return it to its sacred place:
Ritual over Resolution: Instead of asking "How do I move on?" ask, "How do I tend to this grief?" Light a candle. Speak their name. Make offerings. Let the relationship continue.
Communal Witnessing: Grief was never meant to be processed in isolation. Seek spaces where your grief is not rushed or diminished.
Time as Medicine: Grief moves in spirals, not straight lines. There is no "getting over it." There is only learning how to live with love and loss intertwined.
Listening to Ancestral Wisdom: If the modern world does not know how to hold your grief, turn to the old ways. Look to the wisdom of your lineage, of the land, of those who have always known that death is not an ending.
Your Grief is Sacred—And It Belongs to You
Western psychology may try to diagnose your grief, to box it in, to rush it along. But your ancestors? They know better.
Grief is love in its most raw and tender form. And love? Love does not end.
So we tend to it. We honor it. We let it teach us. And in doing so, we let our ancestors guide us home.
If you are seeking a space where your grief is held with reverence, where ritual and ancestral wisdom guide the way, you are welcome here.
Your grief is not a disorder. It is sacred. It is yours. And it deserves to be honored.
