Grief is a landscape we all must eventually traverse, yet few of us are handed a map. It arrives unbidden, reshaping our internal geography in ways we often cannot articulate. In a profound episode of the Tendrils of Grief podcast, host Susan Ways sits down with MedCircle host, Kyle Kittleson to explore this difficult terrain. Kyle opens up about the devastating loss of his mother when he was just a teenager and how that unprocessed trauma shaped his emotional world for decades.
His journey is not just one of sorrow but of remarkable resilience. Drawing from both his lived experience and thousands of interviews with leading mental health experts, Kyle offers a unique duality of perspective. He speaks not only as a survivor of profound loss but also as an educated advocate who has spent years dissecting the mechanics of healing with psychiatrists and psychologists.
Kyle’s Journey Through Teenage Grief
Losing a parent is a shattering event at any age. Losing a parent as a teenager, however, disrupts the very foundation of identity formation. Kyle Kittleson was only sixteen years old when his mother, Janice, passed away. At sixteen, a young person is typically navigating the complex transition from childhood to adulthood, seeking independence while still needing a safety net.
For Kyle, that safety net was ripped away. The death of a mother during these formative years creates a void that is both immediate and enduring.
Adolescent grief is often complicated by the developmental need to fit in. Teenagers naturally want to be like their peers. They want to worry about exams, social dynamics, and future plans—not mortality. Kyle found himself thrust into a reality that none of his friends could truly comprehend.
This isolation is a common thread in early bereavement. While others were planning for prom or college applications, Kyle was grappling with the permanence of death. This dissonance can create a profound sense of loneliness, even in a room full of people.
The coping mechanisms available to a sixteen-year-old are often undeveloped. Without the emotional vocabulary or life experience to process such a magnitude of loss, many teenagers resort to suppression.
Kyle admits that for years, he did not truly process the event. He continued with life, carrying the weight of the loss silently. It is a survival instinct. When the pain feels too large to hold, the mind often partitions it away to ensure daily functioning. Yet, as Kyle later discovered, grief that is stored away does not disappear; it waits.
His story highlights the critical intersection of childhood trauma and adult mental health. The events we experience in our youth do not stay in the past. They travel with us, influencing our relationships, our career choices, and our self-perception. For Kyle, the loss of his mother was compounded by other struggles.
He had been diagnosed with depression at the tender age of nine. This early battle with mental health meant that his grief landed on already fragile ground. He was learning to manage a chronic mental health condition while simultaneously navigating the greatest loss of his life.
Furthermore, Kyle was grappling with his sexual identity. Growing up and realizing he was gay added another layer of internal conflict. Like many young people in similar situations, he struggled with self-acceptance, wishing he could be anyone else.
The energy required to hide one’s true self, combined with the energy needed to suppress grief, creates an exhausting internal state. It is a testament to human resilience that Kyle navigated these turbulent waters. However, the cost of unprocessed grief eventually comes due.
The Hidden Cost of Unprocessed Grief
We often think of grief as a period of sadness that eventually fades. We imagine it follows a linear path. The famous “stages” moving neatly from denial to acceptance. Real life, however, is rarely so tidy.
Kyle’s experience illuminates the concept of unprocessed grief. This occurs when the natural emotional response to loss is halted, avoided, or suppressed. It is not a conscious refusal to be sad, but often a subconscious protection mechanism. The mind decides that feeling the full extent of the pain is too dangerous, so it shuts down the emotional processing centers.
Unprocessed grief is a shapeshifter. It rarely looks like simple sadness. Instead, it manifests in disguised ways. It can show up as chronic irritability, anxiety, or a pervasive sense of numbness.
For years, Kyle navigated his life without fully integrating the reality of his mother’s death. This avoidance quietly impacts healing. It acts like an invisible anchor, keeping a person tethered to the past even as they try to move forward. You might be successful in your career, as Kyle was, yet feel an underlying hollowness that no achievement can fill.
Emotional avoidance is the engine of unprocessed grief. We avoid difficult feelings because they are uncomfortable. We distract ourselves with work, relationships, or substances. In a culture that prizes “moving on” and “staying strong,” avoidance is often rewarded. We are praised for being resilient when, in fact, we are merely numb.
Kyle discusses how this dynamic played out in his own life. The “strong” exterior often hides a fragile interior infrastructure.
The impact extends to physical health as well. The body keeps the score. Unresolved emotional pain can manifest as physical symptoms, from chronic fatigue to autoimmune issues. Kyle lives with Crohn’s disease, and while the connection between stress and autoimmune disorders is complex, the toll of chronic emotional stress is undeniable. The energy required to keep grief submerged drains the body’s resources. It leaves us depleted, making us more susceptible to illness and burnout.
Relationships also suffer under the weight of unprocessed loss. When we wall off our grief, we inadvertently wall off our ability to connect deeply with others. Intimacy requires vulnerability. If we are guarding a secret fortress of pain, we cannot let anyone truly in.
We may fear that if we start crying, we will never stop. Or we may fear that our grief is a burden to others. Kyle’s journey reveals that true connection became possible only when he began to dismantle these walls. Acknowledging the pain was the first step toward reconnecting with the world.
Recognizing unprocessed grief is the beginning of liberation. It requires a gentle curiosity about one’s own reactions. Why did that small disappointment trigger a rage response? Why does silence feel unbearable? These are often the tendrils of old grief reaching into the present. Kyle’s advocacy emphasizes that it is never too late to begin this work. Whether five years or twenty years have passed, the opportunity to heal remains open.
Learning from Thousands of Experts: What Really Helps
One of the most compelling aspects of Kyle’s perspective is his professional background. As the host of MedCircle, he has conducted thousands of interviews with top psychiatrists and psychologists.
This role has given him a masterclass in mental health that few people ever access. He has asked the hard questions. He has pressed experts for practical answers. This wealth of knowledge has refined his understanding of what actually helps in the healing process.
A primary insight from these experts is that there is no “right” way to grieve. This sounds simple, yet it is profound. We often judge our own grieving process. We think we are grieving too much, or too little, or for too long.
We compare our journey to others. Experts consistently affirm that grief is as unique as a fingerprint. Your relationship with the deceased was unique; therefore, your grief will be unique. Kyle emphasizes the importance of removing judgment from the equation. Shame has no place in healing.
Another crucial lesson is the power of psychoeducation. Kyle notes that he learned more in his first six months at MedCircle than he did in years of traditional therapy. Understanding why we feel the way we feel can be incredibly empowering. When we understand the mechanics of trauma or the physiology of anxiety, we stop feeling “crazy.”
We realize that our reactions are normal responses to abnormal events. Education demystifies the experience. It turns a terrifying monster into a manageable challenge.
Experts also highlight the necessity of community. Grief isolates, but healing connects. MedCircle’s philosophy is that preventative mental health care involves education for everyone, not just the patient. When friends and family understand depression or grief, they can provide better support.
Kyle advocates for building a “mental health literacy” within our communities. We need to know how to sit with someone in pain without trying to “fix” it. We need to know the difference between helpful support and toxic positivity.
The concept of “timelines” is another myth that experts debunk. Society often expects grief to wrap up within a year. The reality, as Kyle has learned and lived, is that grief is not linear. It is cyclical. It circles back on anniversaries, holidays, or during major life milestones. The goal is not to “get over” the loss but to integrate it. We learn to carry the loss differently. It moves from being a heavy boulder on our backs to a stone in our pocket—always there, but manageable.
Finally, the experts Kyle interviews emphasize the role of meaning-making. Finding purpose after loss is a powerful antidote to despair. This does not mean we must start a foundation or write a book. Meaning can be found in small acts of kindness, in deepened relationships, or in personal growth.
For Kyle, his pain was transmuted into a purpose-driven career in mental health advocacy. He used his experience to become the voice he needed when he was sixteen. This transformation of tragedy into impact is a hallmark of post-traumatic growth.
Working With Grief: A New Paradigm for Healing
So, how do we move forward? The conventional wisdom often suggests we must “battle” our demons or “fight” depression. Kyle suggests a softer, more effective approach: working with grief rather than against it.
This paradigm shift is essential. When we fight our emotions, we create internal conflict. We exhaust ourselves. Working with grief means acknowledging it as a part of our landscape. It means inviting it to the table rather than locking it in the basement.
Acceptance is the cornerstone of this approach. This does not mean liking the situation. It means accepting the reality of it. It means saying, “I am sad today, and that is okay.” It means validating your own pain. Kyle’s journey illustrates that validation is healing. When we stop running from the pain, it often loses its terrifying power. It becomes just a feeling, and feelings are temporary. They rise and fall like waves.
Practical tools are vital in this process. One such tool is the “empty chair” technique, often used in therapy, which allows a person to speak to their lost loved one. It provides a space to say the things that were left unsaid. It allows for the expression of anger, regret, and love. Kyle has spoken about the importance of these therapeutic methods. They move grief from the abstract to the concrete, allowing for release.
Another tool is the re-framing of triggers. A song, a smell, or a location can trigger a wave of grief. Instead of avoiding these triggers, we can learn to associate them with continued bonds. The trigger becomes a reminder of the love that still exists. Grief, after all, is love with nowhere to go. By finding places for that love to land—through memory, ritual, or conversation—we reduce the suffering.
Self-compassion is perhaps the most critical tool. We are often our own harshest critics. We beat ourselves up for not being “better” by now. Kyle’s message is one of radical gentleness.
Treat yourself as you would treat a grieving friend. Allow yourself rest. Allow yourself joy without guilt. It is common for the bereaved to feel guilty when they laugh or enjoy life again. Kyle reminds us that our loved ones would want us to live fully. Joy is not a betrayal of the dead; it is a tribute to the life they helped give us.
Ultimately, working with grief is an act of courage. It requires bravery to be vulnerable. It requires patience to endure the bad days. And it requires hope to believe that better days are possible. Kyle Kittleson’s life is proof of this.
He has navigated the dark waters of early loss, depression, and identity struggle, and emerged with a profound capacity for empathy and joy. He teaches us that we do not heal from grief; we heal through it.
Conclusion: Hope for the Journey Ahead
This conversation offers more than just a recounting of sad events. It offers a roadmap for resilience. It validates the messy, non-linear, and often lonely path of bereavement. By sharing his story, Kyle dismantles the stigma surrounding grief and mental health. He shows us that vulnerability is a strength, not a weakness.
For those reading this who are currently navigating loss, know this: You are not doing it wrong. Your timeline is your own. The heaviness you feel is a reflection of the love you held. Unprocessed grief may be lurking in the shadows, but it is never too late to shine a light on it. Education, community, and self-compassion are your allies.
Take a small step today. It might be listening to a podcast episode like this one. It might be reaching out to a friend. It might simply be allowing yourself to cry without apology. As Kyle’s journey demonstrates, the human spirit is incredibly durable. We can endure the unimaginable and still find a way to contribute to the world. We can transform our personal tragedies into engines of empathy. We can, eventually, find our way back to the light.
Listen to this Tendrils of Grief podcast episode with Kyle: https://www.tendrilsofgrief.com/podcast-1/episode/30adfaaf/curious-compassion-a-gentle-look-at-grief
