what I learned from the Mourning Pages beta test: part 1
we laughed, we cried, we went deep
Back in January, I announced I was looking for participants to beta test my new grief journal, Mourning Pages. Having tested it myself throughout December, I knew it had potential to be a powerful tool for those struggling with the death of their mothers—little did I know that it was about to take on a life of its own and grow beyond anything I had imagined.
Most of all, I had no idea of the profound impact it was about to have in the lives of my beta testers and the way that would shape my own path moving forward. It was truly an honour to hold space for this group of five women, who engaged with the journal and prompts in creative and unexpected ways and brought deep and unique perspectives into the conversation.
Together, we laughed, cried, and processed our grief through one full lunar cycle, emerging renewed, like butterflies from a chrysalis. In this post, I reveal four things I learned about grief journaling throughout this process—stay tuned for part two, where I'll share the remaining four.
1. grief can’t be contained to one loss
Initially, I designed Mourning Pages to focus specifically on grief for the death of a mother. It’s not that I wasn’t aware of other types of grief beyond the physical death of a person, it’s just that in my personal experience, the grief for the loss of my mother has been so big that it drowned out all my other losses.
Or so I thought.
With the group, it became immediately obvious that no one was grieving just one thing—everyone was grieving multiple losses at once, sometimes without even realising it. In psychology, this is known as cumulative grief, which refers to the grief we feel when multiple losses pile up—not just from deaths of loved ones but also from other losses, such as jobs, relationships, health, etc.
If we have unprocessed grief from the past, any of these types of loss can bring the feelings we’ve suppressed to the foreground, often manifesting in unexpected ways, such as:
Mother loss might stir up grief for childhood wounds or complicated family relationships.
Losing a partner or a job might bring up grief for an identity once tied to that role or relationship.
Throughout the journaling process, this showed up in different ways for different participants. Many found that focusing on one aspect of their grief opened up the door to something completely unexpected, such as grieving a loss of mobility, the grief that comes with aging, or the connection between grief, self-worth, and addiction.
My takeaway for the next version of the journal is that it needs to expand to acknowledge the full spectrum of grief and reflect the reality that grief isn’t just about death—it’s also about life transitions, identity shifts, and lost futures.
2. grief and anger are (often) deeply connected
When we think of grief, we automatically associate it with sadness, and while that is of course a dominant emotion in grief, it’s not the only one. In fact, grief can stir up all kinds of emotions, and during our calls, several participants spoke about accessing anger in ways they hadn’t before.
For instance, one woman recognised how much resentment she had been suppressing toward family members and former partners for their lack of compassion. She also noticed how her grief was fueling frustration and anger, which was heightened by a busy schedule that left little time for solitude and rest. Recognising this helped her make changes to protect her energy and set better boundaries.
The group felt that while grief work is often framed as sadness, this process showed them that grief is more complex—anger, regret, guilt, and a whole range of (sometimes unexpected) emotions often need space, too. Having permission to work through them helped participants move emotions that had been stuck and stagnant for a long time.
But the beauty of the group was that, while many participants found themselves grappling with emotions they hadn’t fully acknowledged before, they also discovered that having a space to share those emotions made all the difference.
3. grief is personal, but you can’t do it alone
For all of the participants—myself included—the most valuable part of the experience wasn’t just the journaling and the transformations that came from it—it was the magic of the group connection. I found myself looking forward to the calls each week, a feeling that was echoed in the group’s WhatsApp chat.
Because of the stigma around grief, most grievers tend to cope with their losses alone, which can make them feel isolated and even hinder their healing. Every person in the group had stories to share about the ways they mask and hide their grief and how that affects their relationships and the ways they show up in the world.
Most had been wearing these masks for so long they had become a second skin, and it was only stepping into the group and opening up that made them realise how uncomfortable they were. There was a palpable sense of relief at being able to safely share the thoughts, feelings, and experiences they had been keeping to themselves—and be heard with empathy and without judgement.
Despite different losses—some were grieving dead mothers, others were dealing with anticipatory grief, and others focused on different types of loss—no one felt excluded. Grief was a frequent visitor in all our lives, and sharing experiences and perspectives allowed participants to feel supported not just by me as the facilitator, but by one another as a community.
And yes, there were tears—but we also laughed a lot and built deep connections and a sense of community support. I realised with a heavy heart there must be millions of other people out there feeling like they have to grieve alone, instead of with the support of a community.
As powerful as the group experience was, everyone moved through their grief at their own pace. Some participants journaled daily, while others needed more time to sit with certain prompts. Grief isn't linear, and neither is the process of working through it.
4. the pressure to “move on” hurts grievers
A common reflection that surfaced repeatedly in the group was on the ways that Western society discourages public expressions of grief, with grievers internalising the pressure to “move on” to avoid making others uncomfortable.
The stories were excruciating to hear—one participant recalled someone telling her she "should be over it" after two years, which was devastating, and others shared that they often downplayed or hid their grief because they feared being judged or dismissed. However, one woman shared that she had been grieving since 1994, proving that grief has no timeline.
When one participant declared: “We are disruptors”, something stirred in me. I realised this was just a snowflake on the tip of the iceberg. This is paradigm-shifting work that, by challenging societal expectations and creating a space for grief to be acknowledged rather than erased, allows grievers to live both their grief and their lives as fully as possible.
By creating these spaces for grief, we can push back against the social pressure that grievers feel to suppress their emotions—which accelerates their healing while empowering them with tools and community support.
grief work goes deeper than I imagined
These conversations reminded me that grief isn’t something to “get over” but something to integrate into our lives. It shapes who we are, how we connect with others, and even the choices we make.
But what I didn’t expect was just how far-reaching those shifts would be. The journaling process didn’t just help participants reflect on loss—it helped them make sense of who they were becoming.
In part two, I’ll share how this experience sparked major life changes, deepened connections, and even helped some participants break free from long-standing patterns.
Stay tuned.