“Grief doesn’t change you. It reveals you.”
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Opening Reflection:
The day after Angé passed, I found myself planning the next 6 months. Filling in the important dates, drawing up itineraries and fleshing out plans for the next adventure. Not because it had to be done but because I needed to do something. I needed to move. I needed to bring order to something in a world that suddenly felt senseless. That was me — planning booking scheming and dreaming. Mourning through the future planning
Angé? She would have done the opposite. Lit a candle. Sat cross-legged with her journal. Played soft music in the background. She mourned in symbols and silence — a stillness that held power.
And that’s when it hit me: the way we mourn isn’t random. It’s rooted. It reflects our wiring, our personality, our temperament. Grief doesn’t overwrite who we are. It shines a spotlight on it.
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1. Grief Mirrors Personality, Not Performance
When we mourn, we don’t become different people. We become revealed people. The pressure to “grieve the right way” is real — but misplaced. There is no one-size-fits-all grief. There’s only your way.
If you were quiet before, you’ll likely grieve in silence. If you were expressive, you might cry or talk more openly. If you were someone who made lists or planned trips, your grief may take shape through structure and order. You might plan a memorial, organise photos, or create a tribute book. If you’re more impulsive, you might get into a car and just drive — needing distance to feel your pain safely.
Grief doesn’t demand performance. It demands honesty. It asks you to respond from the deepest parts of yourself — not from what others expect.
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2. Introverts and Extroverts Grieve Differently
This difference is often overlooked but incredibly important. The grieving process will look and feel different depending on how you relate to the world.
An introvert might withdraw. Not out of disconnection, but out of necessity. They grieve by reflecting, journaling, walking alone, or spending time in nature. They may not want to talk — not because they aren’t feeling, but because talking doesn’t always help them process. Silence does. Space does.
An extrovert may need company. They may reach out, tell stories, ask for visitors, or organise a group hike or gathering. They’re not avoiding grief — they’re speaking it out loud, needing feedback and connection to move forward.
Neither style is better. They’re just different expressions of the same pain. And both deserve respect.
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3. Action or Stillness: Your Energy Revealed
One of the most visible differences in how people mourn is how they manage their energy.
Some mourners need movement. They walk, run, clean, build, garden. These aren’t distractions — they’re coping strategies. Each action becomes a form of emotional release. Movement helps them feel in control of something when so much feels lost.
Others lean into stillness. They stare out the window, take long baths, sit in quiet rooms, sleep more than usual. Their grief is inward. Their mourning isn’t any less active — it’s just invisible to others.
Grief does not ask for productivity. It asks for presence. Whether that presence shows up through motion or stillness doesn’t matter. What matters is that it’s real.
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4. Thinking or Doing: How You Process Grief
Another layer of how we mourn is whether we are primarily thinkers or doers.
Thinkers often turn to books, theories, questions, or journaling. They process by understanding. They might search for the meaning behind the loss, the spiritual significance, or try to understand what grief means in the context of their life story. They are trying to make sense of the world that suddenly feels fractured.
Doers respond differently. They take care of things — clean out closets, cook for others, manage paperwork. They show up with practical energy. Their comfort comes from structure, from helping others, from doing tasks that anchor them to daily life.
Of course, many people shift between these roles over time. You might begin in thought and move toward action, or vice versa. But your default mode, your first instinct, will usually reflect your core personality.
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5. Let People Know What You Need
One of the most painful parts of grief is that people want to help — and you don’t know how to tell them how. The classic question, “What can I do for you?” often meets a blank stare or a polite shrug. Not because we don’t need anything, but because we don’t know how to be helped.
Here’s where self-awareness becomes a gift — for both you and your supporters. Knowing your own personality helps you give others a starting point.
You might say:
• “I’m an extrovert. Please call. Let me talk. Even if I repeat myself.”
• “I’m an introvert. Just sit with me. You don’t have to speak. Just be there.”
• “I’m a practical person. Can you come help with groceries or the garden?”
• “I’m more of a thinker. Can you send me an article or just ask me deep questions?”
You’re not being demanding. You’re helping people love you better. And you’re allowing your grief to be seen — not as weakness, but as humanity.
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6. Letting Go of Comparison and Judgment
One of the most harmful things we can do — or have done to us — is judge someone else’s grief. It might not be overt. It might come as whispered comments or passive-aggressive silence. But it hurts.
“You’re too emotional.”
“You’re not emotional enough.”
“You’re moving on too fast.”
“You haven’t moved on at all.”
“You should go out.”
“You should stay in.”
“You should cry more.”
“You should pull yourself together.”
All these comments come from one place: discomfort. People don’t like the uncertainty of grief. So, they try to contain it. Label it. Fix it. But grief isn’t a problem. It’s a reality.
And it doesn’t need to look like anyone else’s reality.
Letting go of judgment — especially self-judgment — is one of the kindest things you can do. Your grief is real. Your response is valid. That’s all you need to know.
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7. Gender and Cultural Layers in Mourning
It’s also important to acknowledge that personality doesn’t exist in a vacuum. Our grief is influenced by our gender roles, cultural expectations, and even religious frameworks.
In some cultures, men are expected to be stoic — to hold back tears, to be strong for the family. But that expectation can mask deep suffering. A man who builds a bench in silence may be grieving just as deeply as someone sobbing at a memorial.
Women, on the other hand, may be expected to be open, emotional, nurturing. But not all women grieve that way. Some are private. Some are exhausted by emotional performance.
The pressure to grieve “appropriately” — according to tradition or gender roles — can cause unnecessary pain. If we truly believe that grief reflects personality, then we must let go of those expectations, too.
Your culture might shape your mourning practices — but your personality will shape your mourning experience. Both deserve space.
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8. Grief Over Time: Evolving with You
One of the fascinating — and frustrating — parts of grief is how it evolves. Just when you think you’ve found a rhythm, it changes.
In the first few weeks or months, your personality might drive your mourning style completely. You might stay busy, talk often, or disappear into long walks.
But over time, grief might invite you to explore the parts of yourself you usually avoid. The busy person may find themselves craving silence. The talker might hit a wall and need solitude. The practical person may suddenly fall apart over a small, symbolic reminder.
And that’s okay. Grief is not static. Nor are you.
Let your mourning evolve. Let it challenge parts of your personality. Let it stretch you — but never force you to become someone you’re not.
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9. The Role of Environment
Sometimes, personality-driven mourning is influenced — or even blocked — by environment.
You may be someone who grieves by walking in nature, but live in a busy city.
You may be someone who longs for solitude, but are surrounded by noisy, well-meaning people.
You may need to write, but have no privacy.
You may need company, but feel isolated.
It’s not always possible to change your environment immediately. But knowing what you need can help you create small spaces where your grief can breathe:
• A corner of a room with a candle and chair for quiet.
• A morning walk before the world wakes up.
• A shared WhatsApp group where you can talk openly.
• A book by your bedside, even if you only read a page a day.
Wherever possible, design small rituals that reflect you. That’s where healing begins.
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10. You Don’t Need to Justify Your Grief
Let this be said clearly: You do not owe anyone an explanation for how you mourn.
You don’t have to explain why you can’t come to dinner. Or why you needed to post a photo today. Or why you didn’t cry at the funeral. Or why you haven’t packed away their clothes.
You are not a performance.
You are a person, in pain, doing your best to be real.
And that is enough.
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Conclusion: Be True to Your Wiring
You mourn the way you live — and that’s more than okay.
Grief isn’t a disruption of your personality. It’s an intensification. It draws out the deepest parts of you and brings them to the surface. So let it.
Don’t try to “do it right.”
Don’t try to match someone else’s grief.
Don’t fake strength if you’re aching.
Don’t fake stillness if you need to run.
Just be honest. And when you do that — when you mourn in your own voice, your own rhythm, your own personality — you honour both yourself and the one you loved.
Because love doesn’t need a mask.
And neither does grief.
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Reflective Questions
1. In what ways has your grief mirrored your natural personality or habits?
2. Have you judged your own grieving style — or felt judged by others?
3. What would it look like to mourn in a way that’s truly yours, without comparison?
4. If you had to describe your grief in three words that reflect who you are, what would they be?
5. Are there small rituals or spaces you can create to support your unique way of grieving?
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Because of Angé
Because of Angé, I’ve learned that mourning in silence is not empty. That lighting a candle can carry as much meaning as planning a trip . That gentle music and stillness can be just as powerful as movement and action. And that to truly honour someone, we don’t need to mirror their way — we need to be honest about our own.
Because of her, I now know: love is in the authenticity. And so is grief.
