Grief has a way of making life feel impossibly heavy. The loss itself sits at the centre of everything, yet the world doesn’t stop turning. Bills still arrive. Emails still need answers. The washing basket never seems to empty. In the fog of loss, even the smallest tasks can feel monumental.
It’s in this tension – between deep emotional pain and the everyday demands of life – the Glass Ball Theory offers a gentle kind of guidance. At its heart, it’s a reminder that not everything we carry has the same weight. Some parts of life are fragile, precious, and need careful attention. Others, no matter how urgent they might appear in the moment, can be set down and picked up later.
What Is the Glass Ball Theory?
Imagine your life as a collection of balls you’re trying to juggle. Some of them are made of glass: delicate, breakable, impossible to repair if dropped. Others are made of rubber: sturdy enough to bounce back if they slip through your fingers.
In everyday life, this might mean protecting your health, your closest relationships, or your most meaningful responsibilities as the “glass balls.” The “rubber balls” are the things that can be delayed, delegated, or even let go without lasting damage like errands, chores, or less urgent commitments.
When everything feels overwhelming, the Glass Ball Theory becomes a compass. It doesn’t tell you that grief will be easy, but it does remind you that you don’t have to give equal weight to everything you hold.
*A personal thank you to my good friend and friend of Grief Talks, Lucy Archinal-Hudson from Archwise Psychology for sharing this theory with me in a moment when I needed it most.
Grief Through the Lens of the Glass Ball Theory
In grief, it’s easy to believe that every ball is glass. The house feels like it must be spotless. Every message must be replied to. Every responsibility feels like it will shatter if you put it down. But this isn’t true.
The reality is that while you’re grieving, your capacity is different. Your energy is pulled into the work of loss – remembering, missing, adjusting, surviving. And that is already a full-time job. The Glass Ball Theory invites you to pause and gently ask yourself: which of these balls truly cannot be dropped? And which ones will bounce if I let them go?
Often, the glass balls during grief are things like your physical and mental health, the bonds with the people closest to you, or the rituals that honour your loved one’s memory. Rubber balls, on the other hand, might be a sink of dirty dishes, a postponed deadline, or that unanswered text message. They might feel pressing, but they won’t break you if they fall.
This shift in perspective doesn’t make the loss lighter but it can make the load more bearable.
Learning to Let the Rubber Bounce
The hardest part of grief is often the guilt. Guilt for not doing enough. Guilt for saying no. Guilt for letting go of routines that once defined you. But grief is not about efficiency…it’s about survival.
Letting the rubber balls bounce is not failure. It’s self-protection. It’s allowing your limited energy to be spent where it matters most. Those rubber balls will wait. They’ll roll around the floor, and when you’re ready, you can pick them up again.
What matters most is keeping your glass balls safe, even if that means the rest of life looks a little messy.
Why This Matters
The Glass Ball Theory doesn’t give you a map out of grief, it isn’t a shortcut to “moving on.” What it offers is something far more practical: permission. Permission to stop treating every demand on your time and energy as equally urgent. Permission to focus on the fragile, irreplaceable things in your life such as your health, your loved ones, your inner world, without burning out.
In a time when everything feels like too much, this small shift can change the way you move through each day. It allows you to grieve honestly, live gently, and protect what matters most.
Written by Katrina Shaw
*A special thanks to friend and contributor of Grief Talks, Lucy Archinal-Hudson (Archwise Psychology) for sharing this theory with me in a time when I needed it the most. I hope that it helps you as a reader, too.
