Cielo Azul Counseling: October 2025

Grief touches all of us at some point. It’s something we don’t choose, but it changes the way we see the world. Many people think grief is something we “get over” — a wound that heals and disappears with time. But in reality, grief doesn’t end.

It becomes part of us, and over time, we grow around it.

Grief is the natural response to loss — whether it’s the loss of a person, a relationship, a home, or even a version of ourselves. It shows up in different ways: sadness, anger, guilt, confusion, numbness…emotions that come and go sometimes even relief. All of these reactions are valid.

And grief doesn’t follow a straight line. Some days we might feel okay, even at peace — and then, without warning, something brings the memories flooding back. A smell. A song. A familiar street.
That doesn’t mean we’ve gone backward. It just means the love is still there.

We Don’t Move On — We Grow Around It

There’s a model I love called “growing around grief.”
It describes how, instead of grief shrinking over time, our lives expand around it.

In the beginning, grief feels like it takes up everything — every corner of your day, every thought, every breath. But slowly, your life begins to make space for other things: laughter, work, new experiences, connection.
The grief doesn’t go away; it just becomes one part of a larger whole.

And sometimes, the same memory that once brought tears starts to bring warmth, or even a quiet smile.
Not because the loss hurts less, but because you’ve learned to live with the pain — not against it.

Why Rituals Matter in Grief

Rituals are one of the most healing ways to carry grief.
They give us structure when words fall short.
They remind us that our relationships don’t end just because someone is gone — they simply change form.

A ritual doesn’t have to be elaborate or religious. It can be something small and deeply personal:

Lighting a candle.
Cooking their favorite meal.
Listening to a song that reminds you of them.
Sharing a story.
Looking at the sky
Visiting a meaningful place.

Rituals help us express what our hearts already know — that remembering is part of healing. They transform grief from something private and heavy into something shared, honored, and witnessed.

Día de los Muertos: A Celebration of Life

In Mexican culture, there’s a beautiful example of how ritual and remembrance can bring light into grief: Día de los Muertos, or the Day of the Dead.

During this time, families create altares (altars) filled with photos, flowers, candles, food, and favorite drinks of loved ones who have passed. The air is filled with color — cempasúchil flowers, music, laughter, and the smell of home-cooked meals.

What I find most powerful is that Día de los Muertos isn’t about mourning — it’s about celebrating life.
It’s about remembering that love continues, that memory connects us, and that joy and sadness can exist side by side.

In many families, there’s music, storytelling, and laughter mixed with tears. It’s a reminder that grief doesn’t have to be quiet or lonely. It can also be vibrant, connected, and full of love.

This celebration teaches us something that psychology also tells us: we heal not by letting go of those we’ve lost, but by finding ways to keep them close.

Creating Your Own Rituals

You don’t have to celebrate Día de los Muertos to honor your grief in meaningful ways.
You can create your own ritual of remembrance — something that feels authentic to you.

Maybe it’s writing a letter.
Maybe it’s taking a quiet walk and talking to that person in your thoughts.
Maybe it’s lighting a candle each year on their birthday.

The goal isn’t to erase the pain, but to give it shape — to create a space where love and memory can coexist.
Rituals can also help calm the nervous system, lower anxiety, and bring a sense of connection — both to others and to yourself.

And as the holidays approach, when many people feel the absence of loved ones more deeply, these moments of remembrance can bring both comfort and grounding.

A Gentle Reflection

If you’ve been carrying grief, I want to remind you: you’re not doing it wrong.
There’s no “right way” to grieve.
There’s no timeline or finish line.

Grief is love that’s learning how to live in a new form.
And the fact that you still feel it — that you still remember — is a sign of how deeply you’ve loved.

So maybe this month, you can take a few minutes to honor that love.
Light a candle. Tell a story. Listen to a song. Cook that favorite meal.
Let that person — or that chapter of your life — be present with you for a moment.

Because remembering doesn’t mean you’re stuck in the past.
It means your heart still knows how to love deeply, even through loss.

Grief is not something we move past. It’s something we carry with tenderness — and over time, we grow around it.
And maybe, in that growing, we discover that grief and gratitude can live in the same space.

October is ADHD Awareness Month, and it’s an opportunity to shift the way we see ADHD — not as a disorder to be “fixed,” but as a different way of being in the world.

In many Hispanic families and communities, ADHD is often misunderstood, leading to labels like “inquieto,” “flojo,” or even “malcriado.” These labels can be heavy for both children and adults, and they don’t tell the full story.

As a neurodiversity-affirming therapist, I want to highlight the strengths of ADHD while also unpacking how cultural expectations can make life harder for those whose brains simply work differently.

Understanding Neurodiversity and ADHD

Before diving deeper, it’s helpful to clarify a few key terms:

Neurodiversity refers to the idea that every brain functions differently.

Neurotypical refers to what society considers “normal” brain functioning.

Neurodivergent refers to people whose brains differ from what’s considered typical — such as those diagnosed with ADHD, Autism, Dyslexia, Tourette Syndrome, and others.

A neuroaffirming approach means viewing these differences as unique ways of processing information and experiencing the world — rather than as a disease or disorder.

This blog will focus on understanding ADHD through a neuroaffirming lens.

People tend to think of ADHD as a deficit. But what happens if, instead of focusing only on the individual, we also look at their environment?

The term deficit comes from the medical model, which focuses on decreasing symptoms and “fixing” people. On the other hand, the social model views environmental barriers as the true obstacle to success, rather than the diagnosis itself.

For years, schools have asked children to sit quietly for hours.
Workplaces expect rigid schedules, multitasking, and few — if any — breaks.
And society often overvalues productivity and organization.

What would happen if the environment also adapted to neurodivergent people, instead of only asking them to change?

Childhood and ADHD: Beyond “Inquieto” or “Mañas”

Many children with ADHD are described as restless, hyper, or having “too much energy.” In Hispanic culture, this is often called being “inquieto” or having “mañas.” But what we’re often seeing is something called stimming — repetitive movements or sounds that help regulate emotions and attention.

A child who taps their pencil, bounces their leg, or hums isn’t being “bad” or “disruptive.” They are self-soothing and helping their nervous system stay balanced.

Unfortunately, instead of being seen as regulation, this behavior is often punished: children lose recess, are told to “sit still,” or get labeled as disrespectful. Yet recess and play are exactly what ADHD brains need to thrive.

And then there’s eye contact. In our culture, respect is often tied to “looking someone in the eyes.” But for many kids with ADHD, not making eye contact actually helps them listen better. Avoiding eye contact doesn’t mean avoiding respect.

The challenge is that when children only receive negative labels, they can grow up thinking, “I’m not enough,” “I’m bad,” or “Something’s wrong with me.”

Labeling the behavior instead of the person can help them develop a stronger sense of self-esteem and identity.
For example, instead of saying, “You’re being bad,” we can say, “It’s not okay to hit.”
Or we might say, “I see your body needs to move — let’s find a way to do that in class.”

By validating their experiences, we teach children to listen to their bodies, find regulation strategies, and build self-advocacy skills.

ADHD in Adulthood

ADHD doesn’t disappear when someone turns 18. Many adults continue to face challenges such as:

Difficulty staying organized or managing time.

Forgetting important things frequently.

Struggling in work environments where expectations don’t align with their learning or attention style.

Facing challenges in relationships where they don’t feel understood.

People who are diagnosed later in life often have mixed feelings — relief in finally understanding “what was wrong with me,” but also sadness in realizing, “If I had been diagnosed earlier, I might have received the support I needed.”

One of the hardest cultural labels for ADHD is “flojo” (lazy). Parents or teachers may see a child — or an adult — putting things off until the last minute, struggling to stay organized, or seeming “unmotivated.”

But this is not laziness — it’s a real challenge with executive functioning.

Procrastination in ADHD isn’t about lack of effort; it’s about how the ADHD brain is wired to respond to urgency and interest. Tasks that feel overwhelming or uninteresting often get delayed until the pressure becomes high enough to activate motivation.

When someone with ADHD seems “tired all the time” or “burnt out,” it’s not from lack of trying — it’s from constantly pushing themselves to meet expectations in a world designed for neurotypical people.

Acknowledging that expectations around time management, organization, and focus are not universal doesn’t mean avoiding responsibility — it means providing people with the right supports and tools to meet those expectations successfully.

The Strengths of ADHD

It’s important to remember: ADHD is not just about struggles. ADHD brains bring unique gifts, such as:

Creativity: Seeing connections others might miss and thinking outside the box.

Passion: The ability to hyperfocus and produce extraordinary work when something truly matters.

Energy: A contagious enthusiasm that uplifts classrooms, teams, and families.

Resilience: Strength built from years of navigating misunderstanding and challenge.

When we stop forcing ADHD individuals into a mold that doesn’t fit, we finally begin to see these strengths shine.

Cultural Reflections

In many Hispanic families, we often hear phrases like:

“Échale ganas.”

“No seas flojo.”

“Respeta mirando a los ojos.”

These sayings come from love and tradition, but they can unintentionally invalidate the needs of neurodivergent kids and adults.

Movement is not misbehavior — it’s self-regulation.

Avoiding eye contact is not disrespect — it’s comfort.

Rest is not laziness — it’s recovery.

As a community, we can honor our values of respect, discipline, and family, while also creating room for neurodiverse ways of being.

ADHD is not about being “bad,” “lazy,” or “broken.” It’s about brains that work differently — and beautifully.

Our role, especially in the Hispanic community, is to replace judgment with curiosity, and shame with understanding and support.

When we affirm the strengths of ADHD and make space for difference, we create a world where our children — and adults — can belong fully, just as they are.

Let’s keep this conversation going. By sharing our stories, we make space for healing, understanding, and change.

Cielo Azul Counseling

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Sunday, October 26, 2025

Growing Around Grief: Honoring Love and Life