by Andrew Neufeld | Dec 15, 2025 | Grief, holiday, hope, Mental Health, Seasonal
It’s been a while since I wrote for our blog, and as usual, it’s motivated by what I’m noticing in my own experience leading up to the holidays. The title of the blog is a bit tongue-in-cheek – anyone who knows my reading habits well knows that I love C.S. Lewis, who has a particularly brilliant book called Surprised By Joy. Surprised By Grief, however, is my attempt at humanizing the holidays, with a nod to my own discoveries of grief this year.
There are many definitions of grief, and certainly, many definitions amongst professionals. We were fortunate to have a grief expert, Dena Moitoso, do a lunch-and-learn with our team this year and it was very helpful (and yes, she is in fact, the mother of our very own Marcia Moitoso!). She highlighted so many important things about grief, but one of the most important in my mind, is that the experience of grief by an individual is heavily influenced by how their grief comes to be, and how it’s treated by those around them. I have to admit that through the course of my life I haven’t really given my own grief a lot of attention, understanding, or even acknowledgement. Perhaps it’s that German-Ukrainian Mennonite upbringing again, perhaps it’s my personality, or likely all of the above that has lead to this. Perhaps it’s neurodivergence – I know my ADHD certainly impacts how I see, and process many things. Whatever the case may be, I’ve been intentional this year to pay attention, mainly because I haven’t really had much of a choice because it’s made itself known in ways that weren’t particularly considerate of my desire to engage.
How It Started
It started with the loss of our dog, Buttercup, this past May. She was 4 days short of her 15th birthday when she passed. Understandably, it was heartbreaking for our kids, and for my wife. My kids can’t remember a time without Buttercup, and Buttercup was a constant companion for Meg, particularly in the early years post-accident. Buttercup could always tell how Meg’s pain was each day without Meg ever having to say anything. What I didn’t expect was how hard it hit me. I wrote a couple of posts on LinkedIn about it here, and here. Don’t get me wrong, I loved our dog, but I’m very much a dog owner who differentiates between dogs and humans. I didn’t think it would hit me as hard as it did, but here we are. What was different this time around was that I let it. I shared openly about it, with people in my life, with clients (as it seemed appropriate to do so), and publicly. I let myself cry, and that does not come easily to me, though I’m getting better at it.
Then, I was confronted with the grief of my own mental health journey. It’s still something I’m unpacking, but between my therapist not letting me off the hook, and me intentionally creating some space in my own life to pay attention, I’m starting to understand just how impactful it’s been on my life. Long story very short, I’ve started to grieve for the kid who discovered what depression was at age 6. I’ve started to grieve the terror he felt for the next 20 years, and all of the things he felt he had to do or not do in dealing with it.
This was amplified recently when we lost a client to suicide at the clinic. It always hits therapists hard when they lose a client, and it’s why we work as a team here, not in isolation. What surprised me about this recent experience was that, while of course I was heartbroken for the family and for our therapist who had worked with them, I immediately connected with my own experience earlier in life where it very well could have been me. That’s when the grief hit like a freight train – for myself, and for the client, and for their family.
Most recently, grief hit while I was experiencing a lot of joy. My wife and I don’t give each other gifts really, we don’t want more stuff – so we give each other time. We do our best to get away for a night together and eat good food, do things we enjoy, all without the myriad of distractions that go on in our daily life. We ended up at the Good Noise gospel choir concert downtown, directed by our dear friend, Warren Dean Flandez. It was phenomenal, and full of so much joy. And the grief hit me big time in the middle of the concert, and surprise would be an understatement. And then it was book-ended by joy.
All this to say, grief is complicated. Joy can also be complicated in that it can co-occur with grief and often does (in my experience). The Christmas story and the holidays bring both front and centre to me, particularly this year, and it happens for so many. We recently collaborated with Heron Hospice Society, Estuary Church, and Ladner United Church to put on an event called Circle of Light for community members who have lost loved ones. It was a chance to acknowledge the dialectic that are the holidays – so much joy, and often, so much grief.
How It’s Going
Christmas is a time I’ve struggled with a lot over the years with my depression – feeling like we’re supposed to be happy, when sometimes we’re just not. Or maybe we are happy, but it’s complicated with sadness, or grief, or both. It struck me this week as I was reflecting on the Christmas story, that the first Christmas was likely full of these things too. If you’ve read the story, Mary and Joseph were travelling many miles, with a pregnant Mary riding a donkey, to comply with the Roman census. When we read that “there’s no room in the Inn,” it doesn’t mean that they couldn’t stay at the Four Seasons and had to settle for the Holiday Inn Express. No, it means they found a cave, full of dirty animals that smelled like something most of can’t even imagine, and gave birth to a baby that in the Christian tradition, was to be the saviour of the world. Not how I would have planned it, and I’m pretty sure there were some complicated emotions.
What often amplifies this for me (and this is my belief, not something I am trying to push on anyone else), is that according to the Bible, Jesus would grow up and become a sacrifice for humanity to restore the relationship between humanity and an all-knowing, all-powerful God. Those last bits are important. What this means is that God knew what would happen to this baby before it was born, and He chose to send Him anyways. The part that gets me, is that He made this choice, knowing who I am and all of my imperfections, and did it anyways. I can’t image the level of grief, and the level of joy He experienced in this part of the story.
I tell you all of this, not because I’m trying to preach in a non-religious blog for a non-religious mental health clinic. I’m telling you this because it’s necessary in order for you to understand my experience and what I’m trying to share with you – because my depression, my anxiety, some of the hard things I’ve experienced in life, some of the things I’ve done to try to deal with these things in unhealthy ways, have often led me to believe that I’m unworthy, that I’m a hopeless case, that I’ll never feel better, and many other things.
This is why this Christmas story is so important in my own journey of grief – it helps me know that I’m loved, that I’m worth it, and that there’s hope, and it can get better.
Hope For The Future
What I’m hoping for in sharing this with you, is that you’ll hear me saying, “However you’re feeling going into the holidays is ok.” If you’re grieving, I’m with you. If you’re experiencing joy, I’m with you. If you’re wondering how you’re going to survive the holiday mayhem, I’ve been there and I’m with you. If you’re looking forward to it, I’m with you.
Feelings are complicated. We don’t get to choose them, we just have them. If you’re human, you’ve experienced things that lead to grief and it’s ok to feel that too. The good news is that we’re capable of holding seemingly opposite feelings at the same time. We can experience joy, sadness, hope, and grief together. That’s not you being a mess, or a screwup, or “too much,” that’s you being human with the rest of us. You just don’t usually see it on a Christmas card.
If you’ve made it this far, I appreciate the effort and I hope it’s been worth it. Since this is my last chance to do so before the end of the year, I want to say thank you for letting us take care of you here at Alongside You. We’re far from perfect, and we’re human just like you, but we do always, and will always do our best to be both human, and helpful in caring for you.
My hope is that whatever traditions you have over these holidays, that you’ll be kind to yourself, that you’ll know that grief doesn’t take a holiday and if it shows up for you that you’re not alone, and that there’s hope. I appreciate every client who trusts us to take care of them, and I’m excited for what 2026 holds for all of us.
Merry Christmas, happy holidays, and Happy New Year to you and all of your loved ones.
by Matt Hislop | Sep 29, 2025 | Grief, Mental Health
Grief is a deeply personal and human experience. We all relate to it in unique ways. How we were raised—along with social, cultural, faith-based, and family messages—greatly influences how we process and express the grief we experience.
What Is Grief?
Grief is the emotional response to any kind of loss. This can include the passing of a loved one, the loss of a job, a relationship, or even a dream. Loss comes in many forms, and it’s important to remember that your loss matters.
Acknowledging your loss allows you to begin exploring how you want to relate to your grief. While grief may look different from person to person, it is a universal human experience. Expressing grief in your own way is not only valid—it’s part of being human.
How Do I Relate to Grief?
Grief can be confusing and overwhelming. I often remind clients that grief is a journey, and there is no “right” way to feel or respond. Emotions such as sadness, fear, shame, and guilt may come up—sometimes all at once. Interestingly, grief can also bring unexpected feelings like joy or gratitude. This is all a normal part of the grieving process.
Two theories I’ve found especially helpful in working with grief are the Continuing Bonds theory and the Dual Process Model:
Continuing Bonds
The Continuing Bonds theory was introduced by Klass, Silverman, and Nickman. It centers around maintaining a relationship with someone after they have died. Ask yourself:
• What does that connection look like now?
• How do I want to relate to this loss?
• What role does ceremony or ritual play in this connection?
Continuing Bonds encourages us to explore ways to stay connected emotionally, spiritually, or symbolically with the person we’ve lost. For some, continuing to speak to their loved one, writing letters, or creating meaningful rituals is a comforting practice.
Dual Process Model
The Dual Process Model of Grief, developed by Stroebe and Schut, views grief as a dynamic and non-linear experience. It suggests that we oscillate between two states:
• Loss-oriented (focused on the pain and emotions of the loss)
• Restoration-oriented (focused on adapting and rebuilding life without the person or thing we’ve lost)
While this back-and-forth can feel frustrating or disorienting, it’s actually a healthy way to process grief. Emotional flexibility allows space to feel deeply while also slowly re-engaging with life. This model normalizes the mixed emotions of grief and helps us identify which feelings are most present and need attention.
The Role of Ceremony
Ceremony can be a powerful resource in grief. It offers a structured and meaningful way to honor the loss, mark transitions, and express emotions. Ceremonies are a universal human tradition, practiced across cultures, ages, and spiritual beliefs.
I often encourage clients to explore their family histories and cultural backgrounds to discover what types of ceremonies or rituals might help support them in their grieving process.
Common Humanity and Self-Compassion
A vital part of working with grief is learning to show compassion to yourself.
Dr. Kristin Neff’s work on Self-Compassion highlights “Common Humanity” as a key element. This concept reminds us that although we are in pain, we are not alone. Others struggle just like us, and knowing this can create a sense of connection even in our most isolated moments.
Recognizing that others have walked similar paths—either in the past or right now—can help you feel less alone. In times of deep emotional pain, that sense of belonging can be incredibly healing.
Final Thoughts
Grief is hard. It’s messy. It’s deeply human. But remember this:
Your loss matters. And you are not alone.
We’re here for you. Please connect with us if you would like to speak with a counsellor about your grief.
Recommended Resources
Books
- It’s OK That You’re Not OK – Megan Devine
- Self-Compassion: The Proven Power of Being Kind to Yourself – Dr. Kristin Neff
- Finding Meaning: The Sixth Stage of Grief – David KesslerEmbers: One Ojibway’s Meditations – Richard Wagamese
Websites
- www.refugeingrief.com
- grief.com – Finding Meaning by David Kessler
Support
- British Columbia Bereavement Helpline
www.bcbh.ca
by Andrew Neufeld | Jun 4, 2020 | Connection, Counselling, Racism, Relationships, Stress, Trauma
Yesterday, I took the day off from work. Originally it was scheduled so that I could take my wife to another of her recurrent surgeries for her chronic pain, which thanks to COVID-19, has been cancelled indefinitely. It happened to line up nicely, however, with cabinet install day for our home renovation that is thankfully heading ever so much closer to the finish line. It also coincided with a need that I’ve identified lately – that is, a need for rest. What I didn’t expect is to be spending most of the day feeling sad. For a while, I didn’t know why I was feeling this way, until the question loomed in my mind, “How do I respond to racism?”
You see, I’m one of the ones who is, on most given days, gleefully ignorant about racism. It’s not that I am not aware of it, because I am aware because on different parts of the world I’ve lived in, different ethnic groups I’ve worked with, clients I’ve seen, etc. It is, however, because on any given day, I am not personally subjected to it. In fact, it’s been exceedingly absent in my life. While I was pondering this question about how do I respond to racism all day yesterday, I realized that I can only think of one time in my life where I was keenly aware that I was being treated poorly because of my race. The details of the situation aren’t important here I don’t think, and likely wouldn’t spark any sort of helpful conversation, but it does highlight that in 39 years I can only think of one time where I was very aware of being discriminated against based on my race.
This doesn’t mean that I haven’t been aware of being treated differently, because I have been while travelling. While I would suggest that it’s still not okay, it’s normal, in my experience, to be seen as other when you’re in another country, and even hearing words like gringo if you happen to be white. Or, if you’re living in Ukraine and your friend is from Korea, it’s not uncommon for kids to stop dead in their tracks and stare simply because they’ve never seen an Asian person before.
There’s a massive difference, however, in the experiences I’ve had versus those from whom we’ve all been hearing from in the past few days through the Black Lives Matter movement and protests, and the devastating events around the death of George Floyd. In all of my 39 years, I can only recall one instance where I felt unsafe or threatened as a result of my treatment based on my race.
This is in contrast to some who can’t go 39 days, or 39 minutes, or perhaps 39 seconds between experiences that make them feel unsafe, threatened, or less than.
This makes me sad.
It makes me feel a whole lot of other things, including mad, confused, angry, frustrated, scared, and more. But, if I give myself the time to actually sit with the emotions and discern what I’m feeling, the core of it is sadness.
I’m sad because although I do my very best to honour everyone, regardless of race, colour, creed, ethnicity, or otherwise, I know that at some point I have unwittingly made someone feel this way myself.
I’m sad, because a part of my heritage story is related to culture – my family came to Canada in the early 1900’s because they were literally being killed off for being who they were, and coming to Canada saved their lives. And we still have the same problems over 100 years later.
I’m sad because although my wife and I do our best to raise our girls to love and respect everyone they meet, from all races and creeds and backgrounds, they too will struggle to follow through and will make mistakes, and this will inflict further pain even into the next generation.
We come from privilege. We are white, middle-class, and I am male. This carries a privilege that I am becoming more and more aware of. It carries a responsibility to realize this, and understand this, and do better in our actions as we move forward.
Now, some of you may have just cringed at that last paragraph. Some of you may feel that what I’m saying means that those of us who come from privilege need to be sorry for, repentant of, or similar for the fact that we are white, grew up reasonably well off, and may be male.
That’s not at all what I’m saying, and that’s not at all what privilege means. It simply means that we have some advantages in life that others do not, simply by being born into what we’re born into. With that carries a responsibility to be aware of this, and use this privilege to care for others.
It also doesn’t mean we didn’t work hard to get what we have, to do what we do, and that we shouldn’t appreciate it, and enjoy it. It simply means that if we didn’t have the privilege we do, it likely would have been harder for us to have the same successes in life.
How Do I Respond To Racism?
Herein lies the problem. I am by no means an expert on race relations, cultural history, sociology, or otherwise. I don’t have any perfect answers to this, or even particularly qualified ones. Instead, here are some thoughts I’ve had over the past few days that hopefully might be helpful to us all as we wrestle with this issue of racism that I don’t believe is going to go away anytime soon. How do we respond? What do we need right now to make changes?
We Need Grace
Nothing highlights the need for grace more to me right now than writing this article. I know that it is nowhere near perfect, and doesn’t come up with any astounding answers to any of the massive, looming questions many of us have. I know I’ve made mistakes in this article in my own ignorance.
This highlights our need for grace as we navigate this challenging issue, in a challenging time. While this article isn’t authoritative, or perfect, it is honest.
This are simply my honest wrestling with an issue I don’t know enough about. It is the start of an attempt to lend help, even in my own imperfection, with initial thoughts on a complex issue.
I ask for your grace as you read this, and I would ask for grace for us all, from those who are subjected to racism on a daily basis. You don’t deserve this treatment, and we don’t deserve your grace – but, if you can muster some grace for us while we try to change our understanding and our behaviour, we will all hopefully win in the end.
With grace, we can have hope for a different future, one that honours everyone, from all races and cultural backgrounds. A future that holds promise for us all.
We need to feel sad
Understandably, there is a lot of anger right now over the state of race relations, and particularly over the death of George Floyd. And, there should be anger over what happened to Mr. Floyd, and what has happened to far too many people over the years who have been subjected to similar treatment.
In my area of expertise, psychology, we understand generally that anger is a basic emotion (one of the 6 basic emotions according to the Gottman Institute). Anger, however, is often a secondary emotion – based on underlying emotions that aren’t expressed.
One of the most common source emotions for anger that I see, particularly in men, is sadness. I know for myself, I am far more likely to express anger than I am sadness. It’s not particularly socially acceptable in North America for men to express sadness, but it is much more socially acceptable (if only for being more common) to be angry.
The problem is that very few productive conversations happen through anger and the expression of anger. It doesn’t mean it’s not valid, it just isn’t as effective in communication. If someone is angry with us, our back usually goes up and we become defensive. Very rarely is our response to ask something like, “Can you help me understand why you’re angry, please tell me more.” Instead, our fundamental biology kicks in through our limbic system and we go to defensive mode, and most likely, enter into our fight-or-flight stance (or freeze for that matter).
What happens, then, if we embrace the underlying sadness? I’d suggest it instructs us better (I can easily describe right now why I’m so sad about all of this versus if you asked me in the angry moments to describe why I’m angry), and it’s more effective in communication. If someone tells us they’re sad, we’re far more likely to respond in curiosity and kindness wanting to know more, simply because our limbic system isn’t firing.
“Anger is valid and ok, but we shouldn’t gloss over the underlying sadness.”
We need to educate ourselves
This may seem blatantly obvious, but it’s still the truth. We are woefully uneducated as a whole about racism, no matter what our background is. This is where I will plead ignorance regarding resources because I’m at the stage of doing my best to find out what some of the most helpful resources are.
There are two main reasons that we need to educate ourselves: to understand, and to reduce pain.
While I am early on in my journey toward education on this subject, I did come across this article that lists a number of resources that I have seen posted many, many times and seem to be helpful. Our very own Rebecca Farnell posted the book, Me and White Supremacy: Combat Racism, Change the World, and Become a Good Ancestor on her Instagram feed and it seems like it would be a good resource for those of us wanting to learn more. I am continuing to look to find resources that are suggested by people who know far more about this than I do. I’ll update this post as I find more resources as I hope it will be helpful to others.
The second reason we need to educate ourselves is because when it comes to pain, the inevitable result of racism, current pain science research shows that it is one of the greatest modifiers of the pain we experience.
Since I do have a particular interest in chronic pain and the psychological management of pain, I was reading The Explain Pain Handbook: Protectometer yesterday to try to find some resources for a client. In this book they explain that in terms of physical pain, embracing bioplasticity and education about pain can adapt the body to reduce pain and disability and increase life satisfaction (p.30). They also state that bioplasticity is based on the research on neuroplasticity which is the research showing that our brain is able to change over time, no matter our age.
What we do know, is that physical pain and emotional pain act the same way in the brain, and hit the same receptors. We have documented data on the effects of traumatic stress on the brain. It seems to me that if education can reduce our physical pain, it should help our emotional pain. If we know what is happening, we can respond differently, and this can change the impact on our neurobiology.
We need to connect
More than ever, we need to connect around this issue. We need to learn together, do better together, change together. I’m convinced that the solution to our problem with racism lies in human connection. It’s going to be a long road, but connection is where we start.
If we connect, we can learn from those who are hurting and change our behaviour. If we connect, those who are hurting can understand the perspective of the perpetrators and what they are trying to do to change, thus reducing their pain. Note well, this is not to excuse the perpetration, it is to understand one another’s positions and the efforts being made to change for the better, and to reduce pain in the meantime.
If we connect, we can reduce pain. I remember a study that Sue Johnson mentioned once (and I’m actively trying to find the study), where subjects participated in a random controlled trial on secure relationships and pain response. From memory, they had three conditions:
- Subject enters the room, is shocked with electricity, and their pain response is measured.
- Subject enters the room, a random person is also sitting in the room, and the subject is shocked with electricity and their pain response is measured.
- Subject enters the room, another person they have a safe, secure relationship with is also in the room, and the subject is shocked with electricity and their pain response is measured.
In that third condition, the study found that they could get the pain response down to almost zero. Let’s remember, the other person in the room did nothing other than sit in the room with them.
This is how powerful safe, secure human connection is. If we can find ways of doing this in the midst of our pain around racism, we stand a chance to weather the storm while we try to make the changes we need to make to do something about it.
Our commitment at Alongside You
I hope it goes without saying that everyone is welcome at Alongside You. We embrace all races, cultures, and backgrounds at our clinic. Our staff and associates come from all backgrounds, as do our clients. Our intent is to welcome anyone and everyone and that they would feel loved, and cared for.
I also understand that we are not perfect, and we too make mistakes. Here is my commitment as the Director of our clinic – if anyone has had, or in future has any concerns about how they are treated by our clinic for any reason, and particularly with regard to race and ethnicity, please contact me directly and I will sit down with you personally to listen, to learn, and to see what if anything needs to change at our clinic.
Safety, security, compassion, and respect are core to our values and I commit to doing anything I can do ensure that these values are communicated to every client by our words, our actions and our policies.
Thank you for taking the time to read this, and if you’re struggling with racism in any way, we’re here with you in the middle of it. Let us know how we can help.
by Amy Ibrahim | May 20, 2020 | Counselling, Grief, Mental Health, Relationships, Stress, Tips
Grief is a bit of a mystery to us, and something that our brains and our bodies have a hard time processing. Many times we might wonder, “How do I support someone who is going through grief?” It can be hard to know what to say or do when someone you care about is grieving a major loss. Some people may be afraid of saying or doing the wrong thing, or maybe think that there is nothing they can do to make things better. Others may simply feel uncomfortable with the intense pain and emotions that grief brings. These are common fears that we all experience when someone we deeply care about is going through a difficult time. It may help to know that there is no magic pill – no cure for the pain of loss, and nothing that can take it all away. But that doesn’t mean that there isn’t anything we can do to support someone who is grieving. You don’t have to have all the answers or be able offer great insight or advice for your loved one to feel supported and know that you care about them. Often times, your mere presence is enough. The bereaved would benefit from just knowing that they are not alone in their suffering, and that they have a caring and compassionate friend to turn to if they need to. This alone can help the bereaved process the pain and slowly start to heal.
Nonetheless, here are some good ground rules to keep in mind when you’re trying to answer the question of how to support someone who is grieving.
Listen
Your friend or loved one may have not had the chance to share their thoughts and feelings about the loss with anyone. Often times, those who are grieving may avoid talking about the deceased with close family members or friends so that they don’t bring them too much pain. This means that they may have never had the chance to share their grief story. Just by listening to them, without judgement or restriction, you offer them a unique opportunity to verbally process the loss and express the impact it has had on them, which can be healing in itself!
Give Permission to Grieve
Some of us may be uncomfortable with this step because of the intense pain and emotions that grief brings. We may feel propelled to offer advice, or provide intervention or direction in some way, which is understandable – no one wants to see their loved ones suffer! But as mentioned earlier, the most helpful thing we can do is offer our presence and remind ourselves that there is nothing we can do to take their pain away. Depending on your relationship with the person experiencing grief, you can encourage them to express their grief, especially if they consider you to be one of their safe and close friends. Keep in mind that grief may not only involve feelings of sadness, but can also include intense feelings of guilt, anxiety, anger and despair. Allow them to express the range of emotions they may be feeling, without judgement. Many people hide their grief and pretend that everything is alright, so giving them permission to express their grief, with all the extreme emotions it involves may be very freeing. You can say something like, “tell me about your dad,” or, “this must be really hard,” and let them know that grieving is a normal and healthy response to loss. You can even tell them, “I’m not sure what to say, but I want you to know that I care.”
Share Information About the Grief Process
Grief often comes in waves, and many people don’t know what to expect from it. Some people may be surprised by the duration or intensity of it and they may judge themselves for how long it’s taking them to heal. It can be helpful to remind them that grief affects everyone differently, and that their journey is unique to them. Not only that, but it is also normal and expected to have some good days along with the bad. Reassure them that this does not mean that they love the individual they lost any less – finding ways to cope with the loss and finding a new normal is part of the healing journey.
Assist in Practical and Concrete Ways
Lastly, helping the bereaved in practical ways can be one of the most helpful ways to support them, especially in the early days after the loss. They may very likely have no energy to ask for support at this time or may not know exactly what it is that they need. That’s why it’s helpful to take initiative to make a practical, concrete offer that would lessen the burden of their daily responsibilities. This could be something like offering to deliver them a meal, babysit their children so that they can have some time to themselves, or take long walks with them for fresh air and exercise.
Practice Self-Compassion
Finally, it’s important to practice self-compassion as we support someone else on their journey through grief. It’s hard when we see those close to us suffer. Even though it’s not our own suffering, their pain still impacts us, and we may experience it as our own. That’s why it’s important to show kindness towards ourselves and acknowledge how hard it is for us to know that a loved one is going through a difficult time and that there is nothing we can do to take their pain away. This allows us the capacity to be there for those who are suffering and not get lost in their pain. If we are able to attend to our own emotions and have compassion for ourselves, we increase our capacity to be there for others and offer them the gift of our presence.
If you or someone you love is experiencing grief, we’re with you. If we can be of any help to you on your journey through grief please give us a call.
