The Stories We Carry: Disrupting the Narratives That Shape Our Grief
- Tina Armstrong
- Dec 10, 2025
- 5 min read
(Week 2 December Blog — ROOTED: Disrupt Edition)
If there’s one thing I know about many Black women, especially high-achieving Black women, it’s this:
We don’t just grieve the moment something is lost.
We grieve the stories we’ve been carrying about what that loss should mean.
And most of the time?
Those stories didn’t come from us.
They came from our families, our culture, our churches, our expectations, and the invisible roles we learned to perform long before we ever knew the weight of them.
This blog is about those stories — the ones we repeat in our minds, the ones we don’t question, and the ones that shape how we move through December with quiet heaviness.
Because grief is not just an emotion.
It’s a narrative.
And sometimes the narrative needs disrupting.
Key Takeaways
The stories we tell ourselves about grief shape how we heal , or how we stay stuck.
Many grief narratives are inherited, absorbed, or unspoken, not consciously chosen.
Black women often carry unique grief stories shaped by culture, history, and the pressure to be strong.
Disrupting harmful narratives opens the door to compassion, vulnerability, and authentic healing.
You have permission and power to rewrite the story you carry about your grief.
Why the Stories We Tell Ourselves Matter
We don’t experience grief in a vacuum.
We experience it through meaning, through the interpretation our minds give it.
A breakup… a job loss… a dream deferred… the death of someone we love… even the loss of who we used to be…
The story we attach to the loss is often more painful than the loss itself.
For example:
“I should be stronger than this.”
“I should be over it by now.”
“Why can’t I keep it together like everyone else?”
“If I fall apart, everything will fall apart with me.”
“My grief is an inconvenience.”
“I don’t have the luxury of breaking down.”
These aren’t just thoughts.
They are scripts — inherited, absorbed, rehearsed.
And those scripts shape how we grieve.
Where These Narratives Come From (Especially for Black Women)
If you grew up hearing phrases like:
“Just pray about it.”
“Be strong.”
“You don’t have time to fall apart.”
“Handle it quietly.”
…then your grief story was already being written for you.
Black women often inherit grief narratives rooted in survival, not healing.
Because for generations, vulnerability wasn’t safe.
Tears weren’t safe.
Rest wasn’t safe.
Telling the truth about our pain wasn’t safe.
So we learned to carry everything without letting anything carry us.
And that story followed us into adulthood.
We still perform strength, even when no one is asking us to.
We still swallow emotions that were meant to be expressed.
We still apologize for sadness, exhaustion, anger, or longing.
And December, with all of its expectations, nostalgia, and pressure, tends to activate those internalized narratives.
Harmful Grief Narratives To Disrupt
Here are a few that show up often in the women I work with (and if we're honest, in many of us too):
1. “I should be over this by now.”
Grief is not a deadline.
It’s a relationship — one that changes, softens, evolves, and resurfaces.
2. “Strong women don’t show emotion.”
Actually?
Strong women feel.
Strong women name.
Strong women tell the truth.
3. “Grief should look neat, controlled, and private.”
Where did that even come from?
Grief is messy because love is deep.
4. “My grief isn’t valid because others have it worse.”
Pain does not need permission to matter.
5. “I don’t have time to deal with this right now.”
Sis… grief doesn’t ask for your calendar.
It shows up because something mattered.
These narratives restrict us.
Disrupting them frees us.
The Invisible Stories We Carry
They’re subtle, whispered beliefs we don’t always notice:
“If I slow down, I’ll fall apart.”
“Rest is weakness.”
“My worth is in how much I can handle.”
“No one will show up for me if I stop showing up for them.”
These stories become muscle memory.
We respond automatically, not intentionally.
That’s why December, a month where stillness, reflection, and emotions run high, feels like an emotional mirror.
It shows us our stories clearly.
And once we see them?
We get to decide whether to keep carrying them.
Disrupting the Narrative: A Gentle Practice
This week, I want you to try a small narrative disruption exercise:
Step 1 — Name the story.
What do you believe about your grief?
Write it down.
Step 2 — Ask yourself: “Is this mine?”
Did I learn this from:
my family
my culture
my faith community
my childhood
society
trauma
survival?
Step 3 — Ask: “Does this story still serve me?”
If not:
Release it.
Rewrite it.
Step 4 — Create a new version that honors your humanity.
For example:
Old story: “I should be over this by now.”
New story: “My healing has no timeline, and I honor my pace.”
This is the work of DISRUPT , not tearing your story down, but rewriting it with compassion.
A Special Note for Black Women Navigating Grief
Your grief is not weakness.
Your softness is not failure.
Your tears are not a betrayal of your strength.
And your story , the one you inherited and the one you are still writing ,is allowed to evolve.
You don’t have to be the “Strong Black Woman” here.
You just have to be a human one.
Sharing Your Grief Story as a Path to Healing
You don’t heal grief alone.
You heal it witnessed.
Every time a Black woman tells the truth about her pain, her exhaustion, her longing, her disappointment, her memories…
…she disrupts generations of silence.
Your story can free you.
Sharing it can free someone else too.
Conclusion: You Are the Author Now
The grief you feel this December is real.
But the narrative around your grief?
That can change.
You get to question the story.
You get to rewrite the story.
You get to choose the story.
This is the heart of the DISRUPT pillar, interrupting the beliefs that harm us, and grounding ourselves in the truth that heals us.
Your story is still being written.
And you are becoming the author of your healing.
FAQ
What is a grief narrative? It’s the internal story you tell yourself about your loss, its meaning, its impact, and what it says about you.
Why do Black women carry unique grief stories? Because generational trauma, cultural expectations, and the “Strong Black Woman” myth influence how we believe we’re supposed to grieve.
How do I know if my grief narrative is harmful? If it brings shame, pressure, guilt, or emotional shutdown, it needs disrupting.
Does grief have a timeline? No. Grief has movement, not deadlines. Your pace is your pace.
How can I start reframing my grief story? Through awareness, journaling, community support, spiritual grounding, therapy, and compassionate curiosity.
Is This therapy advice?
No. The content in this blog, and throughout the ROOTED brand, is for educational and informational purposes only.
While I am a licensed psychologist, reading this post does not create a therapeutic relationship between us. The reflections, tools, and guidance shared here are meant to support your personal growth, emotional awareness, and spiritual well-being, but they are not a substitute for therapy, counseling, or professional mental health care.
If you are navigating deep grief, trauma, or feel you need individualized support, I encourage you to connect with a licensed mental health provider in your state or region who can offer tailored care.
You deserve support that meets the fullness of your needs!
This weeks blog hit home. I have so many people for whom December ( and we are only 10 days in) has been really hard with loss. My own dear mom, lost one of her closest friends this week. My heart is broken for her. During this month may we love on and draw near to those who are broken hearted and allow them to show up in both joy and sadness!