There comes a point in the healing journey when all the rationalizations, distractions, and dances of denial give way to what simply is—and it hurts. There is no bargaining left to do, no more scenarios to rewrite in your mind, no more “what ifs” or “if onlys” to cling to. Just the truth, stark and unchanging.
It can take days, weeks, or, in some cases—like mine—well over a year before we are ready to acknowledge what once seemed unimaginable, before we are strong enough to let the reality of loss settle into our bones. We resist because we are human. We hold on because the heart does not release love easily. But then, one day, almost imperceptibly, something shifts.
You wake up and realize: This is my new normal.
It is not what you wanted. It is not what you dreamed of. But it is what is. And you have a choice—to accept it, to let it shape you in new ways, or to stay lost in the endless loop of wishing and wanting, tethered to a future that will never materialize.
There is no easy way to say goodbye to the life you thought you would have, to the past you thought would last, to the person you once were. But there is also something quietly profound in this moment of reckoning. It is a milestone, a turning point. It means that somewhere inside you, even in the depths of sorrow, there is strength. A strength you may not have known was there. A spirit within you that is learning how to stand on its own.
Grief, when it surfaces in full, is not a sign of weakness. It is, in its own way, a victory. It means you are no longer running from the pain. It means you are standing in it, allowing it to move through you, allowing it to cleanse you. And with that, a certain kind of freedom begins to emerge—not immediately, not all at once, but slowly, like the first light of dawn creeping over the horizon.
So please, keep going.
Keep going when it feels like your insides are splitting apart, when your body aches from the weight of sorrow. Keep going when hardly a soul around you understands the depth of your grief. Keep going when the people you long to love you in kind and healthy ways do not—because they cannot. Not because of anything you have done, not because you were not worthy, but because they, too, are bound by their own limitations. Keep going, even when you feel emptied of tears, yet somehow, they still come.
And yet, you are still here.
And because you are here, you are enduring.
You will survive this because you already are surviving this.
You have come too far, done too much soul work, journeyed too deep into yourself to turn back now.
And you will come to understand, in that deep, soul-knowing way, that nothing was ever truly lost.
And here is what you will discover: one day, without even realizing it, the weight will begin to lift. Not all at once, but in small, unexpected ways. A breath that feels lighter, or you catch yourself savoring a moment, no longer rushing past it. The warmth of the sun on your skin, and for the first time in a long while, you allow yourself to truly feel it. Little by little, life will begin to shimmer again. Because healing is not about forgetting. It is about carrying your pain with grace, letting it shape you, not break you.
So, keep going.
Life is still here, waiting for you. And when you are ready, you will meet it with open arms once more.
Inward & Onward,
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