When you lose someone or something central to your life, it doesn’t just feel like a tragedy — it feels like an earthquake. The ground shifts beneath you, the mental map of your future disappears, and your internal weather turns genuinely chaotic.
In the immediate aftermath of loss, it’s natural to look for a way to “fix” the pain — to move through the stages of grief quickly so life can feel normal again. But grief isn’t a disease to be cured. It’s a natural, if painful, response to love and attachment.
In her book Grief Works, psychotherapist Julia Samuel offers a practical and genuinely comforting framework: the Eight Pillars of Strength. Her argument is that while we can’t speed up grieving itself, we can build specific support structures — pillars — that hold us steady while we do the difficult work of rebuilding. When a building is damaged in a storm, the first move isn’t to rebuild the roof — it’s to put up support columns so the rest doesn’t collapse. In grief, the internal system is genuinely vulnerable and depleted, and these pillars are the habits, internal and external, that act as those support columns. They don’t make the pain disappear, but they give you the stability to carry its weight without breaking.
The first pillar is your relationship with others, including the person who died. Grief can make you want to withdraw, but connection is a primary source of co-regulation, and staying close to people who can sit with the pain without trying to fix it matters. Maintaining your relationship with the person who died matters too — the physical connection has ended, but the emotional bond continues, and it can be supported by wearing something of theirs, talking about them openly with people who understand, or creating a small memory space. The second pillar is your relationship with yourself. It’s a cruel irony that in the moments we’re hurting most, we’re often hardest on ourselves — telling ourselves we should be “over it by now,” or blaming ourselves for the circumstances of the loss. This pillar calls for real self-compassion: treating yourself with the same gentleness you’d offer a grieving friend, and remembering that feeling bad doesn’t mean you are bad.
The third pillar is finding ways to express the emotion. Grief is a highly physical energy that needs to move — suppressed, it doesn’t disappear, it turns inward, often as depression, anxiety or physical pain. There’s no single right way to express it: journaling to untangle conflicting thoughts, crying without trying to stop yourself, or turning to a creative outlet like painting, music or cooking can all serve the same purpose. The fourth pillar is time. Grief distorts time — a single day can feel like a year, years can pass in a blink — and this pillar is about accepting that grieving takes longer than society, and often an employer, expects. You can’t force time to move faster, but you can shift your relationship to it, focusing on getting through the next hour or the next day rather than the whole of an unknown future.
The fifth pillar is mind and body. Grief sits heavily in the body — it drains physical energy, disrupts sleep, and keeps the nervous system on high alert — so caring for the physical self matters: moving gently each day, even a short walk; eating regular, nourishing meals even when appetite is low; protecting sleep by limiting caffeine, alcohol and late-night screens. The sixth pillar is limits. When emotional capacity is low, operating at full capacity simply isn’t realistic, and one of the most important pillars is the power to say no — setting clear boundaries with work, social obligations and family, and giving yourself permission to step back without guilt, because saying no to outside demands is how you say yes to your own healing.
The seventh pillar is structure. In the chaos of grief, a simple routine becomes a genuine anchor — it doesn’t need to be productive, just predictable: getting up at the same time, a few basic tasks, designated time for rest and reflection, all of which reduce decision fatigue and offer a safe container for difficult emotions. And the eighth pillar, developed by the philosopher Eugene Gendlin, is focusing — turning attention inward to locate the physical sensation of an emotion, what he called the felt sense. Grief often feels like an overwhelming, nameless fog; by pausing, breathing, and locating where it physically sits — a tightness in the chest, a knot in the stomach — you can begin to name it, which helps the brain start to process the emotion and allows the tension to slowly release.
You don’t need to master all eight pillars at once — in the acute stages of loss, even thinking about them can feel like too much. Start by picking just one that feels accessible right now: eating a warm meal, saying no to an optional commitment, keeping a consistent bedtime. By building these small, steady supports, you show your own system that even though your world has changed for good, you are safe, you are held, and you are capable of rebuilding.
Grief can be overwhelming, and you don’t have to carry it alone. The Irish Hospice Foundation’s Bereavement Support Line offers a free, confidential space to talk following a death — freephone 1800 80 70 77, Monday to Friday, 10am–1pm. If you’re struggling to cope at any hour, the Samaritans are there 24/7 on 116 123. In an emergency, or if you’re worried you might act on thoughts of harming yourself, please call 999 or 112.
You’ll find more support services on our Urgent Support page.
Reflection: which of the eight pillars feels most neglected in your life right now — and what’s one small, practical step you could take today to reinforce it?