If you’re reading this, maybe you’ve felt it lately—the thick ache of sadness. The kind of sadness that comes quietly, settles in somewhere under your ribs, and stays for a while.

If you follow me on Instagram, you know we’ve had to change my son’s school. A place he’s known for five years. His safe place. He’s grown up with his group of friends, and now I feel like I’m taking him away from everything he knows. He let out a heart breaking cry. His face crumpled—breaking my heart in ways I wasn’t prepared for. I watched the light in his eyes go out. He carried the news in his shoulders, heavier than his backpack. The conversation left me undone.

For years I used to think I needed to fight sadness off, distract myself. Deep clean the house. Binge watch tv. But I’ve learned over the years to acknowledge my feelings. Not to push them down or ignore them. I asked Sadness, “What do you need? What do you want me to see?” Sadness being the honest guest she is, asked me to pause. To mourn what is lost.

Sadness asked me to watch my son more closely, to notice how he grieves. I noticed he would isolate himself in his room more. Clutching a favourite book, staring at the ceiling, hugging me a little extra. Sadness asked me to give him space for his own Sadness, not as a problem to fix but a feeling to let unfold. Sadness reminded me that crying is proof that something mattered. We should honour what we have lost, what has changed, and what has ended.

Sadness has a purpose, and therapy research backs this up. When Sadness visits, she/he quietly invites us to slow down, conserve our energy, and look inward. A kind of psychological pause button. Sadness is not there to weaken us; she/he is the part that makes us reach out for comfort, helps us ask for a hug, or lean in for support when we’d otherwise pretend we’re fine. Expressing sadness signals to those around us: “I need kindness.” Studies show this helps others recognize what matters to us, opening a door to empathy and care.

Sadness also makes space for reflection. She/he brings us closer to what really matters, helps us see our values, and connects us to others who understand. When you acknowledge Sadness rather than pushing her/him away, builds self-awareness and emotional resilience. In fact, allowing ourselves to feel sad is linked to greater well-being, more creativity, and even stronger relationships.

I found comfort not in trying to cheer up my son, but letting him and myself feel it all. I wrote in my journal. I drew Sadness and did some therapeutic art activities. Some days, I just sat, palms over my heart, listening to the ache like a song I knew by heart. It’s strange how Sadness transforms when you welcome her. She/he starts as a heavy shadow, but when you lean in, she becomes a bright light of wisdom.

If Sadness is sitting with you, don’t rush her away. She/he’ll help you honour what you loved, what you’re still longing for. She’ll teach you how to begin again.

You don’t have to do anything except listen. Ask her/him what she/he needs. Let yourself cry, write, walk, breathe. Know you are stronger for being able to feel.

With love (and all the feelings),

Therapeutic Art Activity: Sit With Sadness

Sadness is a feeling that asks for company, not for fixing. Art therapists often use the “empty chair” exercise to help people safely express and talk with difficult emotions. This version is gentle and visual. It’s a simple drawing activity that helps you externalize sadness, see it with compassion, and offer it space beside you instead of bottling it up or turning away.

When you give Sadness her/his own chair, you’re acknowledging her/his purpose and presence. You’re saying, “It’s okay to feel. I am willing to listen.” Research shows that making space for sadness through art can help us process loss, build emotional resilience, and feel less overwhelmed. It helps both adults and kids see their feelings as guests to be understood, not enemies to be chased out.

Step 1: Print out the activity sheet.

You’ll see two chairs—one with a human outline, one with a big, friendly blob monster (Sadness). Step 2: Start by drawing and colouring yourself in your chair. Give yourself any details that feel true to you or how you’re really feeling today.

Step 3: Move to Sadness—the big blob! Fill her/him in however you imagine her/him right now. Blue, gray, swirling, bold or shy. Add features, textures, anything that feels right.

Step 4: All around your chairs, there are speech bubbles. Take a moment and think about what would Sadness say to you? What do you wish you could say back? Write down honest words, worries, comforts, or questions in the bubbles. There’s no wrong way.

Step 5: Notice how it feels to see the conversation between you and Sadness. Let it be messy, silly, loving, or raw.

Step 6: Sit quietly with your drawing for a minute. Notice if your heaviness feels a bit lighter.

Step 7: If you like, put your drawing somewhere safe. You can come back to it when Sadness visits again.

Journal Prompts for When You’re Feeling Sad

I turned these series of illustrations into an animated short. You can watch it on my YouTube Channel.