Name It. Feel It. Let It Move Through You.

Making Space for Unprocessed Grief When Life No Longer Looks the Way You Thought It Would

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There is a sticky note sitting in my space right now with three simple instructions:

Name it.

Feel it.

Let it move through you.

It came from a therapy session.

And whew… those few words have given me an assignment that is much deeper than they appear.

My assignment is to journal and reflect on unprocessed grief; the grief connected to relationships, changing roles, career transitions, uncertainty, and the loss of a future I once thought I knew.

Because one thing I am learning in this season is that grief does not always mean someone died.

Sometimes grief is realizing that the life you imagined may not be the life you are going to live.

Sometimes it is mourning who you were.

Sometimes it is accepting that a relationship still exists, but no longer in the role you once believed it would.

Sometimes it is looking at a career you worked incredibly hard to build and realizing you may have outgrown the very thing you once prayed for.

And sometimes grief is standing between what was and what will be, with absolutely no idea what the other side is going to look like.

That is grief too.

Sometimes We Have to Grieve the Future

I think one of the hardest forms of grief to recognize is grieving something that technically never happened.

How do you grieve a future?

How do you mourn memories you never actually got to make?

But we do.

We build pictures of our futures in our minds. We make plans. We attach dreams to people, careers, homes, titles, relationships and timelines.

And when those things change, we aren’t only losing what exists today.

Sometimes we are grieving everything we thought was coming tomorrow.

For me, that has meant creating space to process the shift of a relationship from imagining a future as a married couple to learning what it means for that relationship to exist differently through coparenting.

Those are two completely different futures.

And acknowledging the grief associated with that transition doesn’t mean that I cannot accept what is.

It means I am allowing myself to honor what I once believed would be.

There is a difference.

You Can Grieve a Career Too

This one has surprised me.

I have spent almost a decade with the same company, growing through different positions, responsibilities, leadership roles and seasons of my life.

That’s a long time.

Those roles weren’t simply places where I worked.

They became part of my routine, my professional identity, my relationships, my accomplishments, my confidence and even the way I understood my purpose.

But what happens when the place where you grew is no longer the place where you are supposed to remain?

What happens when you begin to realize:

I may have learned everything this season was supposed to teach me.

There can be excitement about what God may be calling you toward and grief about what you may have to leave behind.

Both can exist at the same time.

I can be grateful for everything a career gave me and still recognize that I may have outgrown a position.

I can honor the woman who worked incredibly hard to get here while making room for the woman I am becoming.

And perhaps that’s one of the most difficult parts of transition:

Sometimes the thing you’re grieving wasn’t bad.

It was simply a season.

Name It.

This is where my therapy assignment begins.

Before I can process what I am feeling, I have to be willing to name it.

Not fix it.

Not spiritualize it away.

Not immediately find the lesson.

Not convince myself that I should be grateful because things could be worse.

Just name it.

I’m disappointed.

I’m afraid.

I’m grieving.

I’m angry.

I’m relieved.

I’m uncertain.

I’m hopeful.

I’m sad.

And sometimes:

I don’t know what I feel yet.

That counts too.

There is something powerful about giving language to what has been sitting silently inside of us.

Feel It.

This may be the uncomfortable part.

Because many of us have become very good at functioning.

We work.

We parent.

We lead.

We take care of everybody.

We answer emails.

We make appointments.

We show up.

We pray.

We keep moving.

And because we are still functioning, we assume we are processing.

But functioning and processing are not necessarily the same thing.

Sometimes staying busy simply gives grief somewhere to hide.

Feeling it means giving ourselves permission to acknowledge what the transition actually costs emotionally.

Maybe that looks like crying.

Maybe it looks like journaling.

Maybe it means sitting quietly.

Maybe it means talking with a therapist.

Maybe it means praying without trying to make the prayer sound pretty.

Maybe it means finally admitting:

This hurts.

And allowing that sentence to exist without immediately following it with “but I’m okay.”

Let It Move Through You.

This part speaks deeply to the holistic nurse in me.

Because emotions don’t exist separately from the rest of us.

It’s all connected.

Mental.

Physical.

Emotional.

Spiritual.

Environmental.

Stress can show up in our sleep, our bodies, our energy, our concentration and our relationships. And when we continually push emotions down because we don’t have time to deal with them, they don’t necessarily disappear.

Creating space for grief to move through us can mean slowing down enough to notice what is happening internally.

Journal.

Walk.

Rest.

Pray.

Breathe.

Talk.

Cry.

Create.

Move your body.

Sit outside.

Speak with someone you trust.

Seek professional support when you need it.

There isn’t one perfect way to grieve a changing season.

The goal isn’t to force the emotion out.

The goal is to stop demanding that it stay hidden.

Change Doesn’t Mean the Previous Season Was a Mistake

This may be the revelation I need most in this season:

An ending does not automatically make the previous chapter a failure.

A relationship can change and still have mattered.

A career can end and still have served its purpose.

A dream can evolve without meaning you were foolish for believing in it.

A version of you can be released without dishonoring the woman who fought to become her.

There are things I prayed for years ago that I now find myself potentially being called away from.

That doesn’t make the answered prayer less meaningful.

Maybe some prayers were answered for a season.

Maybe some environments were classrooms.

Maybe some positions were preparation.

Maybe some relationships taught us things about ourselves that we could not have learned another way.

And maybe growth sometimes looks like being grateful enough to say:

Thank you for what this season gave me.

And I give myself permission to grieve that it is changing.

There Is Sacred Space Between What Was and What’s Next

I don’t have all of the answers about what comes next.

And strangely, I think that’s part of the work too.

We spend so much time trying to get through uncomfortable seasons that sometimes we miss what they are trying to teach us.

Maybe I don’t need to rush to name the next ten years.

Maybe I don’t have to immediately replace the future I once imagined with another perfectly constructed plan.

Maybe this season isn’t asking me to figure everything out.

Maybe it’s asking me to be present.

To listen.

To heal.

To release.

To rediscover.

To trust God.

And to make enough room for whatever is next to arrive without forcing it to look like what was.

Change is inevitable.

Seasons change.

Relationships change.

Careers change.

Dreams change.

We change.

And there is nothing wrong with honoring the emotions that come with becoming someone new.

So if you’re standing in your own in-between season right now, I want to leave you with the same words sitting on my sticky note:

Name it.

Give yourself permission to acknowledge what you have lost, what has changed and what you thought would be.

Feel it.

You don’t have to rush yourself into being okay.

Let it move through you.

Give the emotion somewhere safe to go instead of asking yourself to carry it indefinitely.

And then…

make room.

Because the ending of the future you once imagined doesn’t mean there isn’t a future waiting for you.

It simply means you may be entering a future you haven’t met yet.

And perhaps there is wisdom to be found right here, in the uncomfortable, uncertain, beautiful space between what was and what will be.

It’s All Connected.™

Precious Dear, MSN, RN

CEO & Founder, Precious Holistic Touch LLC