Why Loss Feels Heavier in Modern Times
Grief has always been disorienting and all-consuming. But something about it feels different now.
It lingers in ways we don’t expect. It catches us off guard. It sits inside us like a weight that won’t settle.
But grief isn’t just about what we’ve lost—it’s about how we are forced to carry that loss in a world that no longer makes space for it.
We live in a time where grief has nowhere to go. And that changes how we experience it.
But if grief has become harder to process, it also means we must learn new ways to hold it. This is about understanding why loss feels different today—and what we can do to move through it.
We Are Conditioned to Avoid Discomfort
From the moment we are old enough to cry, we are given ways to stop.
“Here, take this toy.”
“Watch this show.”
“Don’t cry. You’re okay.”
The lesson is clear: Discomfort should be avoided. Pain should be pacified, not processed.
But grief is not something we can outsmart. It is not a problem we can solve with the right formula or distraction. It demands to be felt.
Yet, our modern world trains us for the opposite.
We optimize for convenience—so when something can’t be fixed quickly, we feel lost.
We prioritize efficiency—so when grief slows us down, we feel like we’re doing it wrong.
We are taught that success means control—so when loss leaves us shattered, we feel like failures.
The moment grief arrives, we instinctively reach for something to numb it. We scroll. We work. We fill the silence with sound.
But what if our inability to sit with grief is what makes it linger?
We Have Devices Instead of Rituals
Grief used to be held by ritual.
There were seasons of mourning, not just a single funeral.
There were community-led ceremonies, not just “thoughts and prayers.”
There was a structure for grief, a way to move through it, not past it.
Now? We have screens.
We sit at a funeral, tears still fresh on our faces, and within minutes, our phones light up. Emails, notifications, reminders that life is still moving at full speed—even when we are not.
And so we push grief aside.
Not because we don’t care.
Not because we aren’t feeling it.
But because we no longer have the rituals that teach us what to do with it.
Rituals used to anchor grief in real space.
We wore black.
We covered mirrors.
We gathered in mourning houses.
We had designated times for sorrow.
Now, grief lives in a glowing rectangle.
We post a tribute. We receive a flood of comments. Then—silence.
Grief does not belong to a moment. It belongs to a process. But without rituals to guide us through that process, it turns inward. It doesn’t disappear. It hardens.
We Lack the Community to Catch Us
Grief used to be a communal task.
When someone lost a loved one, the village stepped in.
Meals were cooked. Chores were handled. People sat in the quiet weight of loss—not to fix it, but to share it.
Now? Grief is lonely.
People check in for a week, maybe two, and then assume you’re “doing better.”
We worry we’re a burden, so we stop mentioning it.
We fake resilience because the world expects us to be “okay” far sooner than we actually are.
And so, grief becomes a private experience when it was never meant to be.
But we are not failing at grief. Society is failing us.
So What Can We Do?
If the world no longer knows how to hold grief, we must create our own ways to hold it.
1. Rebuild a Tolerance for Emotional Discomfort
Grief is not supposed to feel manageable. Loss is not supposed to fit neatly into a productivity cycle.
So instead of resisting it, we can train ourselves to sit with it.
Stretch your emotional endurance. Set a timer for 60 seconds and simply let yourself feel.
Develop an “emotional recovery plan.” Just as an athlete builds muscle memory, we can build resilience for grief by creating rituals for hard moments—a song, a walk, a letter to what was lost.
Reframe the urge to escape. The next time you instinctively reach for a distraction, pause. Ask: Am I numbing, or am I processing?
2. Replace Scrolling with Rituals
If grief cannot be held by screens, we must anchor it in the real world.
Name the loss out loud instead of typing it into a caption.
Light a candle instead of refreshing a feed.
Create a ritual that marks grief in real space—a morning walk, a handwritten note, a moment of silence before a meal.
Use technology intentionally. Instead of aimless scrolling, record a voice memo about how you feel. Instead of passive distraction, watch something that reflects your emotions back to you.
The goal is not to eliminate technology. It is to give grief something real to live inside.
3. Reinvent Community for the Modern World
Grief thrives in connection, but if society no longer builds those connections for us, we must build them ourselves.
Create an intentional “grief circle.” A small group of people who agree to check in, long after others have moved on.
Designate a “grief witness.” Someone who sees your pain and acknowledges it, even if nothing can be done.
Make showing up for others a habit. If you have grieved, you know how isolating it can be. Use that memory as a guide—become the person you needed when you were in it.
Grief is Not Meant to Be Carried Alone
We are not broken for struggling with grief.
We are not failing because it feels unbearable.
We are navigating loss in a world that no longer knows how to hold it.
But just because the world is impatient with grief does not mean we have to be.
We can make space for what hurts instead of running from it.
We can create rituals that root grief in something real.
We can find or build communities where sorrow is allowed to exist without apology.
Grief is love that has nowhere to go.
And love—no matter how painful—deserves to be honored.
With love,
Dr. Zelana