Some of our most prolific insights come to us at the most random times. The topic of grief has been consistent for me the last few days so, yep. Imma write about it.
What people do not talk about enough is the fact that millions of people are living inside of grief they have not identified. We tend to call it everything but what it is. We call it "trauma". We call it "depression". We call it "being lost". We call it "figuring out life". We even call it "finding ourselves". All of these things are absolutely valid states of being. Many people have told me, and I admit that I have said this myself, that they don't know what they are feeling. They can't name it.
However, in all the loss, being lost, feeling the loss, we never call the thing the thing; grief.
Grief is felt in every aspect of your being. From the signals our brain sends to all parts of our body to our minds trying to figure out how to be a version of ourselves after loss, the human ability to reset enough to keep living is exceptional. Another interesting aspect of our humanity is how we can move forward in time while standing still in our inability to identify this seemingly short-circuited part of ourselves in our grief.
Not only do people grieve differently, but we grieve different things that may seem rather superfluous to others, yet are meaningful to some. In my leadership coaching, for some clients, sessions may focus on feeling unable to get "unstuck". I often ask. "What are you mourning?" Some think that's a strange question because they initially think I'm referring to a physical loss of a loved one. I ask, "What have you lost that keeps you in a stuck place?"
Some people are grieving the loss of a dream they feel they will never realize.
Others grieve the version of themselves they wanted to be but never became.
Others grieve lost opportunities they believe could have changed their lives for the better.
MANY OF US ARE MOURNING THE ILLUSION OF FREEDOM WE HAD BEFORE NOV 2025 HAPPENED. (but I digress)
The loss of trust will keep many people in a perpetual cycle of doubting their ability to choose the right people to be in their sphere of community. Usually, it isn't until we experience a betrayal that trust is lost, and the grief begins. We may grieve the loss of trust in others and ourselves, and this trust is often rooted in the love that we hold for others.
A relationship breakup could derail someone for years. Losing love causes a grief that feels all-consuming for many. If you have ever said or heard someone say, "I don't know how to move on" after breaking up with someone, that's how strong that grief is. It's not just sadness.
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Psychologytoday.com defines grief:
"Grief is the acute pain that accompanies loss. Because it is a reflection of what we love, it can feel all-encompassing. Grief is not limited to the loss of people, but when it follows the loss of a loved one, it may be compounded by feelings of guilt and confusion, especially if the relationship was a difficult one."
Let's define "acute" (www.merriam-webster.com):
"characterized by sharpness or severity of sudden onset (acute pain); of rapid onset and relatively short duration."
Prolonged grief doesn’t just pass through; it settles in. It stays long enough that you begin to build your life around it: your decisions, your relationships, even your sense of self. And after a while, what once felt heavy and unfamiliar can start to feel like your version of normal.
We all recognize the acute pain of grief when we receive the shocking news that a loved one has passed. We know death is inevitable, but we never know when or who it will touch. Because of that, the grief we feel after a death often makes sense to us. It’s a shared and expected part of being human.
But grief doesn’t only come from death.
There are many losses we carry that go unacknowledged: changes, endings, disappointments that, if left unprocessed, can make it difficult to move forward. Over time, that unresolved grief can show up in the body and mind as exhaustion, heaviness, or a sadness we can’t quite explain.
When we feel this way, we rarely stop to ask, What am I grieving? Instead, we tell ourselves we’re just tired. And to be fair, grief can be exhausting, so rest is still necessary either way.
What about grieving the loss of possibility or potential?
Sometimes, our expectations lead us into unexpected grief. When we believe in something deeply -love, trust, faith, community, a dream, the unraveling of that belief can feel disorienting. It doesn’t just challenge what we believed; it challenges who we believed ourselves to be.
So what do we do with that kind of grief?
We acknowledge it.
We name it.
We allow the hurt to exist instead of burying it.
That might look like asking yourself honest questions:
- What did I believe would happen?
- What part of me feels lost right now?
- What am I actually grieving?
The pain we carry can feel as though it’s been stitched into our hearts and minds, but naming it is the first step toward loosening its hold.
Grief can feel like living in the past with no clear passage to the future. The body moves forward, but the mind and heart remain in a time that no longer exists. No wonder we feel lost. Imagine holding the hand of your past self while standing in your present, as your future self watches, waiting for you to let go. That tension, that in-between space, is where many of us live.
Some of us are grieving what our younger selves never received: protection, love, safety, or the freedom to simply be a child. Others are mourning the lives we couldn’t live because of trauma, expectations, or circumstances beyond our control. Acknowledging that grief is powerful. It means we are finally seeing what was once invisible.
And then, slowly, we practice something else:
We begin to honor the version of ourselves that survived.
That might look like:
- Offering yourself the compassion you didn’t receive
- Letting go of expectations that no longer fit who you are
- Creating new definitions of success, love, or belonging on your own terms
I say all of this because I recognize that I am in a season of grief. I’m releasing expectations I created in earlier versions of my life; expectations that no longer align with who I am or where I’m going.
There are people I still miss, but the grief has softened into something lighter, more like gratitude for the love we shared. I once heard someone say, “Grief is the love you didn’t get to express before death.” That may be true not only for those we’ve lost to death, but also for the relationships we’ve ended without closure; for the careers we left without clear paths forward; for the words we never said, and the versions of ourselves we had to leave behind.
And maybe healing doesn’t mean forgetting or “moving on.” Maybe it means learning how to carry that love and that loss differently.
Mourn what you must. Acknowledge your grief. Acknowledge the very human part of you that hoped for better, longed for more, and the version of you that did the best with the knowledge or tools you had. Being strong is a nice sentiment; however, feeling and experiencing what you grieve and finding hopeful and compassionate ways to cope and find yourself inside of grief is important. Acknowledging your grief doesn't mean you are not strong. It means that your strength allows space for your humanity.
Letting go, whatever that looks like for you, can happen; maybe gradually, but it can. And letting go does not mean forgetting. It means acknowledging love remains, and love can also find newness in each day, if you allow yourself to seek joy as pain subsides, though it may never completely go away.
I lost my cousin KC in Dec 2003. I cry each time I think of him, and I hurt as if I were just told he was gone. That grief, I think, will stay with me always. Since Nov. 2025, I have lost KC's mom, my Aunt Bertha, and my friend of over 40 years, Tonya; two very important people in my life, and I am still grieving them and will for a while. Some days, I find myself just sitting outside, listening to nature and watching how the trees move, how the birds create shelter and find food, and the rabbits hopping through my yard; I sit still to see how nature exists around me. Such a very Cancerian thing to do. lol
We move on because we must, but every once in a while, something hits you in a way that stops you in your tracks, and you have a tough time moving on like business as usual. I'm mourning the version of myself that I aspired to be but never became. People will say, "Oh, it's not too late." Um, some windows of opportunity come once, and when they close, they don't reopen for you. I acknowledge that, and time doesn't move backwards, so forward we must go.
I mourn the independence I had when I lived in DC. Moving was great and necessary; however, I miss my apartment, the sounds of the city outside my window, my wine and rooftop nights, sitting at my window watching the rain, hearing the kids under my window when they got out of school (kids today are crazy but they were happy), and so much more about my hometown. I don't miss how I felt when I left, and when I mourn leaving DC, I remember that my time there came to an end for a reason. Some people, I know, I will never see again, and I've made peace with that, but yes, I grieved it before accepting that some folks are in your life for a moment, a season, or for always.
I have loved, then lost.
I have loved, and held on.
I have loved, and let go.
I have loved, and left.
I have reasonably liked and have already forgotten. (Jinkies!)
What stays with me is the knowledge that love comes around again in so many forms. I pray that love keeps coming around. I pray that grief doesn't distort what love can be. New friends, new goals, new revelations of self, new talents, new horizons, I carry love wherever life takes me. I'm learning to let go, and it may be the hardest thing to learn. Learning new things takes time, consistency, and repetition. I guess letting go requires the same.
May we all acknowledge grief for what it is, understand who we are inside of grief, and allow ourselves to accept compassion and the allowance of time to heal. Grief is not something we ever get over. We just adjust to the version of us that now holds the grief. We never return to the person we were before the loss or before experiencing the person or circumstance that caused the feeling of loss.
So, what do you think? What are you now grieving or still grieving that you have not named to yourself or anyone else? What does healing look like for you? You may share or hold these questions for your own reflection. I welcome you to share, if you like.
Be@Peace and may your healing from loss reveal beautiful possibilities for your present moments, and your future.
Stay TRU💋
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