What Men Get Wrong About Grief (And What to Do Instead)
Stop Running, Face the Pain, and Get Stronger With This One Simple Mindset Shift
The Brutal Truth About Grief
I used to think grief was for weak people. You know, the ones who curl up in bed, cry all day, and can’t get their shit together. Strong men? We take care of business.
That’s how I handled Cindy’s suicide. I didn’t grieve—I moved on. Or at least, I thought I did. I focused on my daughters. I kept working. I stayed busy. And for a while, it worked.
Then, in 2023, my daughter Chloe was killed in a car accident. And this time, I knew I couldn’t afford to make the same mistakes.
Most guys don’t know what the hell to do with grief. We’re taught to avoid it, numb it, or power through it. But that’s exactly what makes it worse.
If you’re here—whether you’ve lost someone or you’re trying to make sense of life after a gut punch—you need to hear this:
Pretty much everything you’ve been told about grief is wrong.
Why Listen to Me?
I’m not a therapist. I don’t have letters after my name. But I’ve been through the kind of loss that can break a man. It almost broke me.
My wife, Cindy, took her own life when I was 36, leaving me with two young daughters and no clue how to handle the wreckage.
Over the years I learned where I had gone wrong and developed new skills and tools to help me (and others) grow & navigate loss.
My daughter, Chloe, was killed in a car accident on February 1, 2023.
Over the years, I’ve coached thousands of men on how to be better men, husbands, and fathers. And one thing I’ve seen over and over? Most guys have no idea how to deal with grief.
I started Improving the Condition of Man because no one hands men a playbook for this shit. No one teaches us how to handle grief without shutting down or self-destructing.
But there’s a way through it, and I want to help you find it.
The Biggest Mistake Men Make With Grief
Trying to Outrun It (Spoiler: You Can’t)
Grief doesn’t move at the speed of hustle.
When Cindy died, I thought I handled it the way a man should—I kept moving. I stayed busy, took care of my kids, and kept my emotions locked down. I thought grief was something you could outwork, something you could outrun.
But that’s not how grief works.
What actually happens when you ignore it?
You tell yourself you’re “fine.”
You bury yourself in work, distractions, or responsibilities.
You numb out with alcohol, scrolling, or anything that keeps you from feeling it.
You convince yourself you’ve moved on—until one day, grief punches you in the face.
That’s what happened after Cindy. I buried my grief alive. And by the time it came back, it hit harder than I ever expected.
But after Chloe died, I made a different choice.
How I Faced Grief Differently After Chloe’s Death
One day, about a year after she died, I was driving when some sappy country song about losing a loved one came on the radio.
And instead of changing the station or shutting it down, I let it hit me.
I pulled over, put my head on the steering wheel, and bawled my eyes out for half an hour, saying "I'm so sorry, Chloe"over and over.
It was brutal. It was the kind of moment I would have done anything to avoid after Cindy died.
But this time, I knew what I was doing.
I had learned that grief doesn’t go away just because you ignore it. I had learned that the only way to get through it was to turn toward it and let it do its work.
It sucked. But then… it passed.
Until the next time.
I think there will be a next time for as long as I live.
And I know I will be able to handle it when it happens again.
The Mindset Shift That Changes Everything: Be the Jaguar
A few months after Chloe died, I found myself in the jungles of Costa Rica, about to do an indigenous sweat lodge ceremony.
The shaman explained that in this part of the world, the jaguar is the apex predator. When confronted with something unknown, uncertain, or threatening, the jaguar doesn’t run—it faces it.
He told us:
"In that sweat lodge, you’re going to be confronted with hard memories, painful emotions, and thoughts you don’t want to face. You can leave at any time. But you can also choose to stay. To be the jaguar."
Since that day, whenever I feel the urge to escape the pain of my daughter’s death, I remind myself to be the jaguar.
Instead of numbing out or distracting myself, I turn toward the pain and face it.
And every time I do, I get stronger.
How to Apply This to Your Life Right Now
🔹 Step 1: Recognize When You’re Running
Are you working yourself into the ground, drinking more than usual, scrolling mindlessly, or pushing people away? That’s grief showing up.
🔹 Step 2: Stop and Face It
Instead of shoving it down, take a breath and let yourself feel it.
Go for a walk alone.
Sit in silence for 5 minutes.
Say out loud what you’re feeling.
🔹 Step 3: Be the Jaguar
When the urge to escape or avoid hits, picture the jaguar turning toward the fear, toward the unknown, toward the pain.
Instead of running, stand your ground. Face it. Because on the other side of that pain is growth, strength, and the ability to carry it without letting it crush you.
Your Choice
You can either:
1️⃣ Keep running from grief, burying it under work, distractions, and the lie that you’re “fine.”
2️⃣ Start handling it like a man, facing it head-on, and learning how to carry it without letting it destroy you.
If you’re ready for real talk about grief, resilience, and rebuilding a life that actually matters, subscribe here:
And drop a comment:
💬 What’s the hardest part of grief for you? No judgment—just real talk.
YOUR NEXT STEPS: Learn The Most Important Relationship Skill You Were Never Taught
Ever been in a conversation where someone was grieving, upset, or overwhelmed—and you had no idea what to say?
Maybe you tried to cheer them up, offered advice they didn’t want, or just froze, unsure of how to help. And afterward, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you could’ve shown up better.
💡 You’re not alone. Most people struggle with this—not because they don’t care, but because no one ever taught them how.
That’s why I created The LEAD Model Training—so you can stop second-guessing yourself and start being the person people turn to in their hardest moments.
Here’s What You’ll Walk Away With:
✅ A simple, repeatable framework (Label, Explore, Acknowledge, Decide) that works in any emotional conversation.
✅ Confidence in what to say (and what NOT to say) so you never feel awkward or unsure again.
✅ Proven techniques that make people feel deeply heard—without forcing them to open up.
✅ Real-world role-play scenarios so you’re not just learning, you’re practicing.
Most people:
🚫 Jump to fixing before someone is ready.
🚫 Say things that make people shut down without realizing it.
🚫 Avoid tough conversations altogether out of fear of saying the wrong thing.
But the people who get this right? They build deeper relationships, gain unshakable trust, and become the person others turn to when it truly matters.
🔥 If you’re ready to stop feeling helpless in emotional conversations, join the LEAD Model Training today.



This: It sucked. But then… it passed.
Until the next time.
I think there will be a next time for as long as I live.
IT is never 'over' and I think many confuse that, thinking they'll reach the end of some imaginary toll road of grief. It stays, you just learn to live with the grief, with the pain. And I'm not sure I'd have it any other way. I don't know that I'd want to live in a place where I could forget totally the ones who meant so much to me. Every ache is an echo of joy once known.
Thank you for sharing Jason. I cannot imagine how difficult it is to write this sometimes, but I can certainly applaud your efforts.
Brother, I am so sorry you lost Katy and so recently. You must be crushed beyond imagination.
I wanted to share something I wrote recently with you in the hope that it might help. And I'm in no way suggesting you're stuck in some kind of trap at all - it's been a damn month. I couldn't
function for two months after my daughter's death. It's just passed the two year anniversary.
My daughter died driving drunk and stoned and almost killed four other people. I'll never know, but if she hadn't gotten in the accident, I think it's very likely she would have killed herself. Her life had become completely unmanageable.
And as we, and her friends, pieced together her life in the aftermath, I realized that no one had a full picture of what was going on. We were all worried as hell but it was so much worse than we thought.
Of course I look back with the benefit of that knowledge and hindsight and see things I could have said or done differently. Anyone would.
But I resolved early on, that I did my fucking best as a dad. Being a great dad was the most important thing in the world to me. But that includes making very human mistakes, like all parents do.
So I don't feel guilt. I did my best. That's all we can do and unfortunately that means that sometimes we can't save our kids. There are a million other variables influencing the trajectory of their lives that we have zero control over.
In the article below, I quote a guy named David Kessler who talks about why parents who lose kids feel so guilty, or drive themselves mad with regret and "if-onlys". I found it very comforting.
I wish you peace and healing through this nightmare brother. Please reach out to me directly if you ever want to talk or to just have a guy who gives a shit, can related and will listen to you. ♥️
https://improvingman.substack.com/p/the-five-traps-keeping-you-stuck