Fall brings out all the costumes and masks. For kids, it’s playful fun—pretending to be superheroes, witches, or princesses for a night. But for those of us grieving, masks often become a part of everyday life.
How often have you answered “I’m fine” when you’re not? Or smiled at a gathering while your heart was breaking inside? Grief has a way of making us performers, putting on masks to make others more comfortable or to avoid explaining what feels unexplainable.
Why We Wear the Mask
Wearing a “grief mask” is normal. Sometimes it’s protection. Sometimes it’s survival. We wear it to:
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Avoid uncomfortable questions.
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Keep from breaking down in public.
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Give ourselves a tiny break from constantly being the “sad one.”
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Shield others from emotions they might not understand.
But here’s the catch: when we wear the mask too long, it becomes heavy. Pretending to be okay all the time only deepens our exhaustion.
What’s Behind the Mask
Behind the smile is sadness. Behind the “I’m fine” is longing. Behind the small talk is the truth that your world has changed forever. And that’s not something to be hidden—it’s something to be honored.
Grief isn’t a weakness. It’s love. And taking off the mask with safe, trusted people allows you to breathe again.
How to Gently Unmask
✨ Find Safe Spaces – Choose one or two people you can be real with. No mask, no pretending. Let them hold the rawness of your grief.
✨ Allow Duality – You can still laugh, decorate pumpkins, or hand out candy while grieving. Joy and sorrow can share the same space.
✨ Use Creative Expression – Journaling, art, or even carving a pumpkin with a tribute design can give you a safe outlet to unmask your feelings.
✨ Give Yourself Permission – It’s okay to say: “Today, I can’t mask it. Today, I’m not fine.” That truth matters.
Quote to Carry With You
"Grief is just love with no place to go." — Jamie Anderson
Fall reminds us of masks, but it also reminds us that they are temporary. Just like Halloween night ends, you can set down the mask when you need to. Behind it is a heart that is hurting, yes—but also a heart that is still beating, still loving, still worthy of being seen.