The Sacred Terrain of Grief: How personal loss shaped my path as a grief therapist

I didn’t come to this work by accident. I came to it the way so many of us come to what we’re meant to do—through something that undid me.

Not all at once. Not in a single moment. But slowly, quietly, in a series of losses that hollowed me out and made room for something else.

When my mom died, something in me broke open. She was my first home, my everything. And when she was gone, it felt like someone had reached inside and rearranged the furniture of my life.

But that was only the beginning.

In the years that followed, I lost my dad. Then my only sibling—my brother. These weren’t tidy losses, wrapped in uncomplicated love. These were layered, human, tangled. They asked me to grieve not just what was lost, but what was never fully found.

Over time, grief stopped feeling like something that had happened to me. It became something I lived in. Less of an event, more of an atmosphere. A fog I walked through. A weight I carried.A language I learned to speak by heart.

And somehow—strangely, beautifully—grief became sacred to me. It didn’t just fracture me. It deepened me.

It made me ask better questions. About who I was.About what really matters. About how to live fully, even when so much has been taken.

This path eventually led me to become a therapist. Not just a clinician, but a companion. A witness. I’ve been sitting with grievers for nearly 15 years now—people who have lost parents, partners, children, identities, communities, and versions of themselves they never thought they’d have to let go.

And I know, deeply, that grief isn’t something you “get over.” But it is something you can learn to carry with more grace. Something that, in time, can become a source of depth rather than devastation.

I offer spaces—quiet, honest, grounded spaces—where your grief can be witnessed, held, and slowly transformed.Sometimes one-on-one. Sometimes in circles. Always at a pace that honors your own inner rhythm.

Because grief needs a place to land. Not just in our private thoughts, but in community. In ritual. In the presence of others who know what it means to lose and still choose love.

So if your grief doesn’t have clean edges—welcome.

If you’ve been holding your sorrow in silence—welcome.

If you’re longing to feel more connected to yourself after loss—welcome.

My name is Jessica Bowen.

I’m a therapist, a guide, and a meaning-maker.

And I believe we were never meant to grieve alone.

Let’s tend to your story. Together.

Read more on my Substack page.