Grief in Many Forms
Grief has a way of weaving into our lives quietly. Most of us know it as the heartbreak that comes after losing someone we love. There’s a quote I’ve always held close: “Grief is just love with nowhere to go.” It’s beautiful—and it’s true.
But what I’ve learned—especially during my own burnout recovery—is that grief doesn’t just show up when someone dies. It also arrives when life doesn’t go the way we thought it would.
It’s the ache that lives in your chest when you realize a dream won’t come true. It’s the heaviness you carry without even realizing it because it’s not just the job you didn’t get or the relationship that ended. It’s the version of you that never got to exist because life unfolded differently.
When a relationship ends, you’re not just grieving the person—you’re grieving the life you imagined with them. The wedding that never happened. The bachelorette weekend you never had. The milestone photos with your friends in matching dresses—only you were never the one in white.
When you don’t land the role you were working toward, it’s not just about missing a job. It’s about the future you saw for yourself in that corner office, leading important meetings, building something meaningful.
And sometimes, that grief shows up in less visible but deeply personal ways.
I know, because I’ve lived it.
I loved my career. For years, I saw a clear path ahead of me in corporate wellness. I had structure, impact, meaning. My dream was to become a Chief Wellness Officer—I could see it so clearly. But the deeper I got into that world, the more I began to feel a disconnect. The work I wanted to do didn’t fit the systems I was in. The spaces weren’t set up for the kind of impact I was being called to create.
Leaving was painful. It wasn’t just a career shift—it was a full-body grief for the version of me I had worked so hard to become. The one who thrived in a structured system. The one who thought she knew her path.
But here’s the reframe that changed everything: no one was stopping me from being the Chief Wellness Officer of my own life. So that’s what I became.
Still, that didn’t mean skipping over the grief.
There are so many versions of you that never happened—versions that are worthy of being seen and honored. Maybe you thought you’d be raising children by now, and you’re watching your friends build families without you. Maybe you thought you’d be living in another city, following a creative calling, but other things took precedence.
Tracee Ellis Ross recently spoke about this kind of grief—the ache of not having gotten married or had children. She named it clearly, but also did not let it diminish what she had done. Her life didn’t stop, but she made space to feel what was lost.
Because the truth is: when we don’t acknowledge these losses, they don’t disappear. They just linger. They weigh down our present and quietly shape our sense of what’s possible in the future. They can become part of what leads us into burnout—exhausted not just from doing too much, but from carrying so much unspoken grief.
Honoring the Versions of You That Didn’t Happen
Mourning what never came to be isn’t a sign of failure or ingratitude. It’s an act of compassion. It allows you to release what you’ve been holding—so you can stop spinning in the ache of what wasn’t and begin to open to what can be.
Here are some gentle ways to start:
Write a letter to the version of yourself who didn’t happen.
Tell her everything—what you hoped for, what you imagined, what you miss. Then write a second letter from your current self. Let your inner wisdom respond. See what clarity or peace begins to rise.
Create a simple ceremony.
We hold funerals for people we’ve lost because rituals help us process and honor what mattered. Light a candle, sit quietly, and speak to the version of yourself you’re releasing. Let the tears come if they do. This isn’t about fixing anything—it’s about making space.
Talk to someone who can hold space for you.
Whether it’s a therapist, coach, or a trusted friend, share what’s been unspoken. The grief you carry doesn’t need to stay in the shadows. Let someone witness it with you.
Grief is not the end. It’s the doorway to wholeness.
When we acknowledge our invisible losses, we create space for something new. We lighten the emotional load. We reclaim energy that’s been tied up in what never was—and we start to come home to who we are.
So if there’s an ache inside you for a life that didn’t happen—pause and be with it.
Mourn it.
Honor it.
Then, when you’re ready, take a breath and let yourself imagine what’s still possible.
Tracey
Hello, World! Tracee Ellis Ross joins us on IMO. Watch now on YouTube.
