One morning, well into my sister’s two and a half years of cancer treatment, I was sitting at my desk, going through my email, when a text from her came through.
The doctors had told her she had two to six weeks to live.
At first, I felt frozen. It was hard to breathe. Then a wave of sadness moved through me.
I felt very sad. But I wasn’t actively crying.
I had cried a great deal along the way, including four months earlier, when she learned that her cancer had returned and metastasized. In this particular moment, though, the tears weren’t coming.
And alongside my sadness, I noticed a subtle assessment:
“If I were crying at this moment, I would be grieving correctly.”
It wasn’t a loud voice. It was a quiet aspect of my inner life—a part of me that had an idea about how I was supposed to respond to this very difficult news.
It had an expectation. A standard.
And my actual experience didn’t quite match.
“Am I Grieving Right?”
Perhaps you know something about this.
You’re moving through grief, loss, or transition, and a part of you is quietly watching how you’re doing.
Maybe you find yourself laughing with a friend, enjoying dinner, or feeling moved by a beautiful sunset. And something inside wonders:
“How can you be enjoying this? Are you sad enough? Are you taking this loss seriously enough?”
Or perhaps a part of you holds a different expectation. It believes you should cry a little, take some time, and then move on.
When grief returns a month later, six months later, or six years later on the anniversary of someone’s death, this part wonders:
“Shouldn’t we be past this by now?”
You might notice both kinds of expectations at different times—a part concerned that you’re grieving too much, and another concerned that you aren’t grieving enough.
That pressure to grieve “correctly” can become an extra burden to bear alongside the loss itself.
Wanting to Know What the Waves Will Do
Grief can arrive in such unexpected ways.
While we’re brushing our teeth. Washing a dish. Coming home to an empty house.
It may be quiet during a moment when we expected to feel devastated. Then it might come rushing in when we hear a song or notice people interacting at the grocery store.
There may be laughter in the middle of a painful day, and sadness in the middle of a beautiful one.
Grief can ebb and flow like waves in the ocean. And a part of us may be trying very hard to make sense of those waves—to organize them, anticipate them, and help us feel prepared.
Like a surfer checking the tide chart, the wind, and the weather forecast, this part may want to know what’s coming.
Through the lens of Internal Family Systems (IFS), I’m interested in getting to know the one holding those expectations. What is it hoping to help with? What feels concerning about letting grief have its own rhythm?
Its answers may be different for each of us.
What This Might Look Like in IFS Therapy
When someone comes to work with me, we might begin by noticing something they say about their grief:
“I should be handling this better.”
“I should be crying more.”
“I should be done with these tears by now.”
I might gently reflect: “It sounds like there’s a part of you that has some ideas about how your grief process is supposed to unfold—as though it should look a certain way.”
In IFS, we sometimes call this identifying a target part: finding an aspect of someone’s inner life that we might spend time getting to know.
Then I would ask whether they want to explore it.
That permission matters. It’s their inner life, their journey, and their choice about where we go.
If they do want to explore, I might support them in finding a little breathing room around that expectation. In IFS, we call this unblending. There can be enough space to recognize, “There’s a part of me that believes I should be grieving a certain way,” and begin to develop a relationship with it.
We would also make room for how the person feels toward this part. They might feel curious, or they might feel frustrated and tired of its pressure. Those responses deserve care, too.
As curiosity becomes available, we can begin to understand the perfectionistic part’s good intention, its fears, and its concerns. What does it worry would happen if it didn’t keep trying to help them grieve correctly?
As the therapist, I’m not going to assume I already know.
I want to get to know this particular part, in this particular person. We can take time to listen and notice how it responds to being heard.
Because it’s all about relationships.
Becoming a Companion to My Grief
After receiving my sister’s text, I was able to make what we call in IFS a You-Turn. I brought my attention inward, toward the one who thought I should be crying.
And I sat with it.
Being in relationship with my perfectionistic part helped give me a little space to grieve in my own way—to honor the pace and rhythm of my tears, and to be more of a companion for my grief whenever it ebbed and flowed.
Later, as I sat beside my sister during the last few days of her life, I was able to feel moments of steadiness, when I wasn’t crying. And I was also able to let my tears flow without reservation, when the waves of grief welled up - and poured out.
Because I was in a relationship with my perfectionistic one, there was a deeper sense of permission for it all. I was able to be in companionship with my grief.
Not running from it, not pushing it, just being with it as it unfolded within me.
That was how grief moved through me in those particular moments. Your grief may have a very different rhythm. Because we are all so unique - and so are our parts inside.
If you have a part inside that wants you to get grief right, it may have been working very hard. There is room to get to know it gently, with support, and at a pace that feels right.
Listen to Episode 5: The Self-Led Life
In my latest episode of The Self-Led Life, “Grief & Perfectionism: When a Part of You Wants to Grieve Correctly,” I share more about this experience and how I support people in getting to know perfectionistic parts.
The episode also includes an optional guided inward exploration, if you would like some companionship in beginning that relationship.
You’re welcome to listen without participating, and to pause at any time. Please save the guided exploration for a time when you aren’t driving.
Come as you are. Bring all your parts. Let’s turn inward—together.
Continue Your Journey & Connect
If you would like support with grief or your relationship with perfectionistic parts, you’re welcome to connect with us:
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About the Author
Jaclyn Long, LMFT, is an IFS Certified therapist and the founder of Mindful Child & Family Therapy in the San Francisco Bay Area. She supports people in developing more compassionate relationships with themselves and each other, in person and through telehealth throughout California. She hosts The Self-Led Life, a podcast inviting curiosity, connection, and relationship with our inner lives.
This article offers education and reflection. It is not therapy and does not establish a therapist-client relationship.