Going Human
Written by Bethany Eggers at Open Door Counseling
Grief has a way of unsettling everything we thought was stable. It distorts time, rewrites priorities, and introduces emotions that can feel unfamiliar or even frightening. In those moments, many people quietly ask themselves a question they’re almost afraid to say out loud: Am I losing it? Erica Sirrine offers a powerful reframe: “You are not going crazy, you are going human.” That idea doesn’t just comfort, it corrects a deep misunderstanding about what grief actually is.
Grief is not a malfunction. It’s not a psychological error that needs to be fixed or hurried along. It is a natural response to loss, rooted in attachment, love, and meaning. When something, or someone, matters deeply to us, its absence doesn’t register as a simple fact. It echoes through the body and mind. Confusion, forgetfulness, anger, numbness, and even moments of unexpected laughter are not signs of instability. They are evidence that the human system is trying to process something profound.
Part of what makes grief feel like “going crazy” is how unpredictable it is. There is no straight line through loss. One day might feel manageable, even peaceful, and the next can bring a surge of emotion that seems disproportionate or inexplicable. This unpredictability clashes with a culture that prefers linear progress and quick resolution. We’re taught to “move on,” to regain control, to return to normal. But grief resists that framework because it isn’t a problem to solve, it’s an experience to live through.
To say “you are going human” is to acknowledge that grief strips away the illusion of control. It exposes vulnerability. It brings us face-to-face with limits—of time, of life, of certainty. And yet, in doing so, it also reveals something essential: our capacity to love, to remember, and to endure. There is also a physical dimension to grief that often goes unrecognized. The body holds loss as much as the mind does. Fatigue, heaviness, restlessness, and disrupted sleep, these are not secondary symptoms; they are part of the experience itself. When the body slows down or reacts intensely, it’s not failing. It’s adapting, recalibrating in the aftermath of change.
Understanding grief as “going human” can shift how we treat ourselves in its presence. Instead of asking, How do I stop feeling this way? we might ask, What does this feeling need? Instead of judging the pace of our healing, we can allow it to unfold. That doesn’t mean grief becomes easy, but it does mean it becomes less isolating. It places our experience within the shared reality of being human, rather than outside it.
This perspective also changes how we show up for others who are grieving. When someone expresses confusion, anger, or emotional swings, the instinct to reassure or fix can be strong. But often, what helps more is simple recognition: this is what grief looks like. Not neat, not predictable, not comfortable, but real.
Over time, grief doesn’t necessarily disappear. It changes shape. It integrates into the broader story of a life that continues. The intensity may soften, but the significance remains. That, too, is part of “going human,” carrying loss not as a permanent wound, but as a reflection of something that mattered.
Erica Sirrine’s words cut through a common fear with quiet clarity. You are not unraveling. You are responding, in a deeply human way, to something that has altered your world. And while that process can feel disorienting, even overwhelming, it is not a sign that something has gone wrong. It is a sign that something meaningful has happened, and that you are, in the fullest sense, alive enough to feel it.
