Grief Isn’t Linear: Embracing Your Unique Journey After Pet Loss | Marc Cooper Hypnosis

Grief Isn’t Linear: Why Your Pet Loss Journey Will Be Different from Anyone Else’s

I wish I could sit with you right now, face to face. No screens. No distractions. Just you and me, quietly reflecting on how much your pet meant to you. The truth is, I don’t know exactly what you’re feeling, but I know the weight of loss. I know how it can hit like a wave, then retreat, and hit again when you least expect it. Losing a pet is devastating. It's more than just losing a companion—it’s losing a part of yourself. But here’s something I want you to hold onto: your grief is yours, and no one else’s. There’s no rulebook, no set path, no one way to “get through it.”

I learned that the hard way after I lost Blue. I thought I understood grief, but when it hit me, it felt like the ground had disappeared beneath me. Every time I tried to climb out of the pit, I fell back, further than before. But here’s the thing: that’s okay. There’s no race, no destination. Grief is not linear, and your journey will look nothing like anyone else’s. And it doesn’t have to.

Grief Isn’t a Straight Line

People often talk about the “stages of grief” as if they’re stepping stones on a path, one after the other, moving forward. You’ve probably heard about them: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance. But here’s a secret—they don’t happen in order. They don’t even happen once. They loop back, spiral, overlap. Some days you might feel a sense of acceptance, only to wake up the next morning drowning in sadness again.

There were moments after Blue was gone where I thought I’d reached some semblance of peace, but then I’d hear a dog barking in the distance or see his favorite toy tucked in a corner, and it felt like everything came crashing down. And that’s normal. There is no set pattern to follow.

If someone tells you, “You should be over it by now,” or, “It’s time to move on,” please—don’t listen. There is no “should” when it comes to grief. There’s only what is and how you’re feeling in that moment. And sometimes, those feelings will change by the hour, or even by the minute.

Everyone’s Grief Is Unique

Your grief is as unique as your bond with your pet. No one loved your pet the way you did. No one experienced the small moments, the quiet companionship, the little quirks that only you could appreciate. That’s why no one else’s grief will look like yours.

Maybe your friend lost their dog and they seemed fine after a few weeks. Maybe you’ve read stories about people finding comfort in a new pet right away. And here you are, still unable to look at photos of your furry friend without breaking down. That’s okay.

Your grief doesn’t have to mirror anyone else’s. It can’t. Comparing your pain to someone else’s only creates more hurt, more pressure. It’s like trying to fit your heart into a mold that wasn’t made for it. Let go of that. You’re allowed to grieve in your own way, in your own time.

The Myth of “Moving On”

There’s this misconception that one day, you’ll just move on. You’ll wake up, the pain will be gone, and you’ll feel “normal” again. But what is normal after losing someone you loved? The truth is, you don’t move on from a loss like this. You move with it. The pain doesn’t disappear, but it changes shape. Over time, it becomes more bearable, less sharp, but it’s still there. And that’s okay, too.

When I lost Blue, I didn’t want to move on. The idea of “getting over” him felt like a betrayal. So instead, I learned to carry his memory with me. I still talk to him sometimes, in quiet moments. I still think of him when I see something that reminds me of our walks together. And you know what? That’s not something I want to change. I don’t need to move on from him.

You don’t have to “move on” either. You can take your pet with you, in your heart, in your memories. That doesn’t mean you’re stuck in your grief. It just means you’ve found a way to honor that special bond.

Embracing Your Own Journey

If there’s one thing I hope you take from this, it’s that your journey through grief is yours to navigate. There’s no right or wrong way. Some days will feel unbearable, and others will bring a little more light. Some days, you’ll smile when you think of your pet. Other days, you’ll cry at the sound of their name.

And here’s the most important thing: that’s all okay.

There’s a strange kind of beauty in grief, in the way it connects us to those we’ve lost. It’s a reflection of the love we shared. Grief is messy and unpredictable, but that’s only because love is, too. If your grief feels chaotic, if you feel lost in it, remember—it’s because your love for your pet was deep, real, and unmeasurable.

Finding Support

One of the hardest parts of grieving a pet is the isolation. Not everyone understands. Some people might not get why you’re so heartbroken “over an animal.” They don’t realize that your pet wasn’t just an animal. They were family. They were home.

If you find yourself feeling alone, reach out. There are communities of people who understand what you’re going through. There are spaces where your grief will be met with compassion, not judgment. I’ve found that even sharing a memory of Blue with someone who gets it can be healing in ways I didn’t expect.

And if you feel stuck, if the weight of it all feels too much, know that it’s okay to seek help. There’s no shame in needing support. Grief doesn’t have to be a solitary journey. Sometimes, having someone walk with you, even if they can’t fully understand, makes all the difference.

What Now?

So, what do you do now? How do you keep going when it feels like your world has shifted so dramatically? I won’t pretend to have all the answers, but I can tell you this: be kind to yourself. Grief isn’t something to conquer or overcome. It’s something to feel, something to live with. Give yourself the space to feel what you need to feel, without rushing, without comparing, without judgment.

Honor your pet in whatever way feels right to you. Maybe it’s creating a small ritual in their memory. Maybe it’s talking to them as if they were still beside you. Or maybe, it’s simply allowing yourself to cry when the sadness feels overwhelming.

Whatever your journey looks like, it’s yours. And that’s enough.

I’m here if you need someone to walk beside you. Not to tell you how to grieve, but to support you in however your grief shows up. Because it’s not about getting to the other side of it—it’s about finding peace within it.

And remember, your journey isn’t linear. And that’s okay.