Reflections From The Nuthatch

Grief and trauma don’t vanish just because we decide it’s time to be happy. Healing isn’t about pretending the pain is gone or forcing ourselves to move on. It’s slower than that, quieter. It asks to make room for what hurts, instead of pushing it away.

But even when loss has taken more than we ever thought we could survive, we still have something left. We still have a choice. Not always in the big ways, but in the gentle, daily ones. We can choose how we care for ourselves in this moment. We can choose rest and compassion instead of self-blame and sorrow.

Breathe. Pause. Allow yourself to be grounded instead of letting the overwhelm take over.

Happiness after grief doesn’t mean forgetting who or what you lost. It doesn’t mean the pain has vanished or that what you lost no longer matters. It means hope is making space beside the sorrow. Not replacing it, just sitting next to it.

Choosing joy is not a betrayal of your pain. It’s an act of survival.

The nuthatch teaches this well. A bird that doesn’t soar or flee, but stays close to the trunk. It climbs downward, upside down, navigating the world in ways that feel strange but steady. When everything is tilted, when nothing feels safe, it continues anyway. The nuthatch holds tight. Its strength isn’t in beauty or speed, but in holding on.

It doesn’t rush. It circles back, rechecks, and returns.

And that is how grief moves. It isn’t in a straight path, with clarity or closure. It returns, pauses, then returns again.

The Nuthatch teaches us to stop reaching for an escape. Stay connected to the present moment, even when life feels upside down, and return to the things that support us.

Where the hummingbird says, “I am still here despite the cost.”

Where the mourning dove says, “Peace can exist with sorrow.”

The nuthatch says, “I will stay with what steadies me, even when the world feels upside down.”