In Cup of Jo’s newly relaunched career column, we ask people to share the big and small lessons they’ve learned on the job.
Grief therapist Natalie Greenberg runs her own practice in Manhattan and works with students at the NYU Counseling Center. She tells us what people don’t realize about grief and how strangers react to her job at dinner parties…
When were you first drawn to therapy?
When I was a kid, my father was an addict, and our family attended Al-Anon, a support group for families and friends of addicts. He’s now been sober for 17 years, but I always understood that therapy was a resource for people during difficult times.
Did you always know you’d become a therapist yourself?
Not at all. After graduating college with a communications degree, I nannied for a family and took a year to figure out what I wanted to do next. During my free time, I set up phone calls with my friends’ parents and interviewed them about their jobs, asking ‘What was your degree? How did you decide to do this? What are the pros and cons of your career?’ And that’s how I learned about social work, and how it has career paths that are similar to psychology, but have more of a social justice lens.
How did you choose to specialize in grief?
At age 22, I lost my mom to suicide. I had no idea how to process her death, and I didn’t know if I was allowed to talk about it with family and friends. Especially because suicide felt like a scary taboo subject. So, when it came to choosing a therapy specialty, I sat down and thought, ‘What is something that I feel especially equipped to help with?’ Grief came to me very quickly.
How do strangers at parties react when they hear you’re a grief therapist?
It’s a funny litmus test! People either ask a million questions or change the subject right away. People also sometimes say, ‘You’re going to psychoanalyze me!’ And, sure, it’s ingrained in me to look out for patterns. But at the same time, psychoanalyzing is work, and I don’t want to work at a party.
What’s the most challenging job you’ve had?
I worked in the Psychiatric ER at Bellevue, the busiest psychiatric hospital in the country. At first, the idea of working there terrified me, but I learned so much. During my second month, Hurricane Sandy flooded the hospital, and I saw firsthand how a hospital operates during a natural disaster. I also learned how to work in an a violent setting, since some patients would come in while intoxicated or psychotic and injure our staff. Going to therapy while working there was key for my own mental health.
You lost your mom at 22. What advice would you give young people who are grieving?
Losing my mother so young was extremely isolating. None of my friends had gone through anything similar; they didn’t know how to show up, and I didn’t know how communicate my needs. I ended up attending a grief group called The Dinner Party, an organization that hosts dinners for young people who have lost family or friends. It also felt so good to be able to talk with people my age about the grieving process without stigma. I’m obsessed with the organization and refer them to many of my clients.
Tell us about a work moment you’ll always remember.
Once during a session, a patient was describing a loss, and I started crying. Afterward I was very insecure and wondered whether I’d acted unprofessionally. My clinical supervisor reassured me, ‘You’re a therapist, but you’re also a human, and you’re responding to something really sad. What more could someone want than for their therapist to be human?’ That moment shifted my idea of how a therapist should show up for their patients, and validate them. In the early days of psychoanalysis, therapists were primarily men who acted like a blank slate. Those types of therapists still exist in some capacity, but that’s not who I am and that’s not the kind of therapist I want to be.
What’s your #1 advice for someone who’s interested in becoming a therapist?
You can be good at therapy but you also need to learn how to run a small business. You need to be organized. You need an accountant and lawyer. You need to know how to hustle.
How can we show up for friends who are grieving loved ones?
Grief lingers and can manifest on random days. So, keep checking in on your friends weeks, months, and even years afterward. For friends and family, I’ll put the death anniversaries of their loved ones in my calendar, so I’ll remember to reach out. Also, come up with your own saying, other than ‘Sorry for your loss’ because it can feel empty. It can be hard to find the right words, but to try to say something a little more genuine — like what you remember about that person, or even acknowledging that you don’t know what to say but you are here for them.
How has your own grief for your mom changed through the years?
My relationship with her has healed a lot since her passing. We didn’t have a close relationship when I was growing up, but now that I’ve experienced the stresses of adulthood and parenthood, I can understand her life a bit better. I can also now see how certain traumas that she experienced affected her parenting. Having that understanding makes it easier to take her off the parent pedestal and see her more as a human who went through hard things.
That’s beautiful.
Since her death, I’ve had dreams where she’s there with me. In those dreams, it doesn’t feel contentious. Instead, it’s always calm and healing, and we talk about unresolved issues. And when I wake up, I feel relieved knowing that my subconscious wasn’t angry or blaming — it’s trying to work things out.
If someone’s grief feels overwhelming, what advice would you give?
I like to help clients come up with meaningful rituals that memorialize this person. When it’s my mom’s birthday or death anniversary, I buy the Le Petit Écolier chocolate biscuit cookies that she loved, then light a Yahrzeit candle and listen to Fleetwood Mac. The ritual doesn’t have to be formal, it’s all about honoring the person that you lost.
Thank you so much, Natalie. What other careers would you like to see featured?
P.S. What it’s like to be a baker and how to navigate a career change.
(Photo illustration by Diana Moss.)
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