When Grief Became My Survival Mode

I didn’t realize I was grieving until the weight of it settled on me like a heavy fog. At first, I thought I was “handling” things—I stayed busy, made sure everything and everyone around me was taken care of. But deep down, I was running on empty. I wasn’t thriving; I was surviving.

Survival mode is tricky. It feels like you’re doing what you need to do, but in reality, it’s just masking the pain. Decisions made in survival mode are often reactionary, driven by the need to escape discomfort rather than confront it. For me, it looked like overcommitting myself, numbing the ache with distractions, and saying “yes” to things I thought would bring me peace but ultimately left me more broken.

I didn’t want to sit with the pain. I didn’t want to feel it. But grief has a way of catching up to you, no matter how far you run.

There was one moment that changed everything for me. I remember sitting in my room, feeling frustrated and confused. I had been doing all the “right” things—keeping busy, staying strong for others, pushing through. Yet, deep inside, I felt empty, as if I had been running in circles and getting nowhere.

I cried out to God, “Why am I still here? Why am I not moving forward? Why does everything feel so heavy?”

And then, a thought pierced through the noise in my mind: “Kassie, you’re making decisions from your pain, not from My peace.”

It hit me hard. Every choice I had been making—whether it was saying yes to people to avoid feeling alone or avoiding hard conversations because I didn’t want to cry—was coming from a place of unresolved pain. My grief was steering the ship, and I didn’t even realize it.

I think about Moses in the Bible. God told him to speak to the rock so water would flow, but instead, Moses struck it in frustration (Numbers 20:7-12). That decision, born out of anger and unchecked emotions, cost him the chance to enter the Promised Land.

I saw myself in Moses—acting out of emotion instead of faith, reacting instead of trusting. I realized I had been striking the “rock” in my life, trying to force my way through grief instead of surrendering it to God.

And just like Moses, my choices weren’t leading me to the peace I longed for. They were keeping me stuck in a cycle of confusion and frustration.

One of the most beautiful things I’ve learned is that God doesn’t rush us through grief. He doesn’t expect us to move on before we’re ready.

In Deuteronomy 34:8, when Moses died, the Israelites mourned for 30 days. They didn’t jump back into life immediately—they took the time to grieve. Even Jesus, knowing He would resurrect Lazarus, took time to weep (John 11:35).

These stories remind me that grieving is sacred. It’s a necessary process, not something to be avoided or rushed.

But here’s the thing: the world doesn’t always see it that way.

During my grief, I heard it all: “You’re dwelling too much. You need to move on.” or “You’re not grieving the right way.”Some people meant well; others didn’t. But either way, their words added to the weight I was already carrying.

I thought about Job. His friends sat with him in silence at first, mourning with him (Job 2:11-13). But eventually, they started questioning him, criticizing him, and offering “advice” that only deepened his pain.

I had to learn to filter the voices around me. Not everyone is equipped to walk with you through grief, and that’s okay. 1 Corinthians 15:33 reminds us, “Bad company corrupts good character.” I needed people who would point me back to God, not pull me further into confusion.

Here’s the thing about survival mode: the small decisions you make in it add up. And if you’re not careful, they create a pattern—a cycle that’s hard to break.

For me, it was the constant “yes” to things I didn’t have the capacity for. It was the way I numbed my feelings instead of addressing them. It was the belief that if I just stayed busy enough, the pain would somehow go away.

But it didn’t. It compounded. And it left me feeling more disconnected, more confused, and more frustrated with myself.

It wasn’t until I surrendered my grief to God that things began to change. I stopped running. I stopped numbing. I let myself feel the pain I had been avoiding, and I brought it to Him in prayer.

Jesus’ words in Matthew 11:28 became my lifeline: “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.”

It wasn’t an overnight transformation, but it was a start. I began prioritizing time in God’s presence—praying, journaling, reading His Word. I started making choices from a place of faith instead of fear. And slowly but surely, I felt the fog begin to lift.

If you’re in a season of grief, I want you to know this: your journey is sacred. It’s okay to take your time. It’s okay to not have all the answers.

Surround yourself with people who uplift you, anchor yourself in God’s truth, and don’t let the world’s opinions dictate your healing process. Remember, only God knows the depth of your pain, and only He can truly heal it.

Healing begins when we stop surviving and start surrendering. It’s not easy, but it’s worth it. And through it all, God is faithful.

So, grab your cafecito, and let’s remember: healing takes time, but with God, all things are possible.