You Can’t Heal What You Don’t Feel
When Grief is a Tight Muscle: On Softening and Surrender
Grief isn’t something you fix. It’s something you sit with.
I started out as a dancer with the SAF Music & Drama Company. I was 19. Every morning, like clockwork, we’d stretch — legs out, flat backs, reaching for that elusive full split. There was no official ranking, but you just knew — the one who could do a centre split had somehow “made it.”
So I pushed. Daily. Determined. And after a strained muscle or two, I learned to back off just enough. Not out of weakness, but wisdom. I’d hold the stretch, right at that sore edge. Wait. Exhale. And slowly, something would shift. The muscle would give - not because I forced it, but because I stayed with it.
Some colleagues would say I was overdoing it. But I knew — avoiding the stretch, and my body would tense again. Back to the familiar, unbearable tightness.
Grief, is like that too. When we let ourselves stay with it — not fix, not flee — something begins to soften. Something hidden begins to breathe.
And in that quiet, persistent surrender — healing finds you.
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Warmly,
George Chan
This Is How We Heal
George Chan, MCOU, is a Counsellor, Grief Educator and Breathwork Coach who specialises in helping individuals navigate grief and loss through his private practice, This Is How We Heal. With a rich background in theatre and entertainment, George brings creativity and empathy to his work. When he's not in the therapy room, you might find him performing, choreographing, or working on a new production—or spending time with Luna, his Jack Russell Terrier, who doubles as his unofficial co-therapist and production critic.e.