The Paradox of Necessary Grief

Healing has always felt like a long road.
The kind you walk alone — even when surrounded by others.
The kind that picks at the edges of what you’ve lost,
what you never got,
what you thought you’d be by now.

Grief, I’ve learned, isn’t something that fades.
It makes itself known — loud, raw,
especially when you're not ready.

And this grief?
It’s not just for what’s gone.
It’s for what might’ve been.

The parts of me that never got to grow.
The lives I could’ve lived if only…

But here’s the thing:
This grief doesn’t have to define me.
It’s part of my landscape, but not the whole map.

Nature teaches us that growth needs loss.
Trees shed.
Mountains erode.
Nothing stays the same.

We’re not here to outrun grief.
We’re here to learn how to carry it.

To walk beside it.

We don’t get to rewrite the past.
But we get to choose the next step.

I’m learning:
Healing doesn’t mean eliminating grief.
It means letting it live alongside joy.
Letting it soften, shift, and still stay.

It won’t look how we imagined.
It won’t be neat.
But it will be real.

→ Explore more Slow Wisdom
→ Related: Notes from the Edge of Pushing Too Far

Keep momentum:

Do a 2–5 min ritual — quick reset for low-capacity moments.

Build capacity — sleep, basics, and minimums that matter.

Reflect for a minute — short reads with a long tail of calm.