Life Goes On: Grieving the Life You Imagined (But Didn't Get), Embracing with Gratitude the Life You Have

There’s a phrase people like to say when we’re hurting:

“Life goes on.”

This is especially true when someone has transitioned from this life. People will say “they’re no longer suffering” or “they’re in a better place” or “at least they’re no longer in pain.” Or they will say “life is for the living” or “You loved them but God loved them more.  Or if a situation or relationship has ruptured it may be “You’re better off.”

They may mean it as comfort, but when your world has quietly cracked open, it can land like dismissal. Yes, life goes on. Bills still come due. Emails still pile up. The sun still rises. People go to work, kids go to school, people go to the gym and shopping malls. Traffic still fills the streets. The rest of the world appears to be going about business as usual.

You might be telling yourself, "And here I am buried in my confusion, pain, disappointment and devastation."

No one tells you what to do with the ache of all the lives you thought you were going to live.

No one tells you how to grieve futures that never happened, relationships that were never what you needed, or the version of you that kept abandoning yourself to keep everyone else okay.

There’s also the life we expect because we checked all the boxes and did “all the things.” We went to school, got the good job, oversaw and managed household duties and responsibilities. We were the “responsible one.” We are socially conditioned to believe that doing these things will lead us to a certain outcome, that we are therefore entitled to an outcome because we have lived life in a certain way.

This is an article for those living losses:– The dreams that died quietly.– The projections you placed on family, partners, and friends that didn’t match who they really are.– The years you gave away in self-sacrifice and emotional lifting.– The moment you realize: I have a life to live, and I don’t want to abandon it anymore.

Invisible Griefs: What Never Had a Funeral or Closure

We talk about grief as if it only belongs at funerals, cemeteries, or hospital bedsides. But many of the deepest griefs don’t come with condolence cards or rituals.

They are quieter, harder to name:

– Grieving a parent who is still alive but emotionally unsafe.– Grieving a relationship that never became what it promised. 

 – Grieving betrayal you never saw coming.   

– Grieving a career that never took off, or a calling you put on hold for everybody else.

– Grieving the version of you who lost years trying to earn love, loyalty, and safety from people who could not provide it.

These are disenfranchised griefs—losses the world doesn’t always recognize or validate. Yet they sit in your chest, heavy and real. They impact your ability to breathe, engage, think clearly or show up fully. They block your voice and remain in your throat like a block of pain you try to swallow.

Take a moment and ask yourself gently:

What am I grieving that never had a funeral? That has never been named or acknowledged?

You don’t have to fix it right now. Just name it.

The Projection Trap: Loving Who We Needed Them to Be

Most of us walk into relationships—family, romantic, friendship—with a story already in our minds.

We project:– Their potential because they are nice most of the time. They like us.– Our own values (“They must care as deeply as I do.”)– Our longing to be safe, chosen, and cherished.

We create a version of them in our minds—a parent, partner, or friend who can carry our hopes. Sometimes they show glimpses of that version. Other times, they clearly don’t.

When reality doesn’t match the story, we often blame ourselves:“I should have known.”“I ignored all the signs.”“What’s wrong with me that I stayed?”

Here’s the truth: you are not all-seeing, all-knowing, or omnipresent. You are human.

You made choices with the information, capacity, and emotional templates you had at the time. That doesn’t make you foolish; it makes you human and learning.

The other factor we often don’t consider is this: people show us what they want us to see.

Family Betrayal and the Myth That DNA Equals Love, Loyalty and Safety

Many of us were sold a story:

“Blood is thicker than water.”

“They’re still your mother/father/sibling.”

“Family is everything.”

But what happens when “family” is where the deepest wounds come from?

– Emotionally immature parents who needed you to parent them.

– Narcissistic caregivers who saw you as an extension, not a person.

– Siblings who betrayed, scapegoated, mocked, or undermined you.

– Dynamics where secrets, denial, and image mattered more than your safety.

The myth says DNA equals love, loyalty and safety.

Reality says: sometimes DNA is the first place you learned to doubt yourself.

It is painful to admit that the people who were supposed to protect you were often the ones you had to protect yourself from. That grief is real. That betrayal is deep.

When we talk about forgiveness as an internal process, we are talking about a process that is sacred and individual. Forgiveness is not blanket and automatic—a double-sided rule or expectation. We wouldn’t advise anyone to grant financial forgiveness to someone who repeatedly steals from them. Where forgiveness is concerned, we frequently apply spiritually and morally unbalanced expectations. The expectation becomes to: “forgive and forget” and “go back into the fold” of the environment and families that have repeatedly wounded, betrayed, injured and neglected.

But this isn’t forgiveness. It is what others ask of the offended to make everyone comfortable and to allow the relational system to remain intact. That kind of pressure is about preserving the system, not healing the wound.

When we think about reconciliation, it must be rooted in safety, accountability and repair. We wouldn’t advise someone to buy an unreliable car without ensuring that the damaged parts are restored and repaired. Auto mechanics discuss this all the time. It doesn’t make good sense to buy a vehicle in need of rebuilding the gut (transmission and engine) and repainting the outside with a high gloss paint job to make the exterior appear so appealing that the buyer doesn’t consider what’s “under the hood.” That is surface-based, not internal repair.

Relationships and reconciliation are similar. The expectation should not be for the wounded to return to the families and environments that bring harm. The expectation goes back to the party or parties responsible for the offenses. Forgiveness and reconciliation require and ask and insight. The offender would initiate repair by going through the work of rebuilding, repair, introspection, accountability, remorse and demonstrated changed behavior.

Forgiveness (if you ever choose it) is an internal process—about releasing the chokehold of resentment so you can breathe.

Reconciliation is relational. It requires safety, accountability, and repair. You don’t owe reconciliation to people who remain unsafe, unwell, or unwilling to change.

Walking away or stepping back from harmful family is not a failure of love. It is an act of self-respect and survival.

The Emotional Lifter: Invisible Loads and Survival Mode

Long before we have words like “trauma,” “emotional neglect,” or “attachment,” many of us are given an unspoken job description in childhood:

– Keep the peace.

– Don’t upset them.

– Read the room.

– Absorb the tension.

– Don’t need too much.

– Be seen and not heard.

Maybe your parent was volatile, depressed, overwhelmed, addicted, emotionally absent, or simply immature. You learned to scan facial expressions, tone of voice, footsteps in the hallway and tension in the air. You organized your behavior around their mood.

That is survival mode. As a child, it makes sense.

It is the wisdom of a nervous system trying to stay safe.

The problem is that we grow up and carry those same strategies into adult relationships, without knowing they were never meant to be a template for love—they were a template for survival.

We step into the world:

– Not knowing how to assess others.

– Not knowing how to assess our own value.

– Not knowing our right to expect reciprocity, care, and consistency.

–Not knowing how to identify our emotions.

–Not knowing how to emotionally regulate

What we do know is fear.

We fear being alone.We fear rejection.We fear not being chosen, not being liked, not being loved.

When fear drives the car, our decisions often become short-sighted, compromised and rooted in self-betrayal.

We minimize red flags. We overlook disrespect. We tell ourselves “it’s not that bad” because the alternative—being alone, starting over, sitting with grief—feels unbearable.

Meanwhile, we’re doing enormous invisible emotional lifting:

– Being the unpaid therapist in every friendship.

– Managing everyone’s moods in the family.

– Serving as emotional shock absorber for partners.

– Carrying guilt, responsibility, and blame that never belonged to us.

Gentle body check-in:

Where do you feel this weight right now—your jaw, shoulders, chest, stomach?

Just notice. No fixing, no judging. Just awareness.

Self-Sacrifice and Co-Existing Alone in Relationships

You can be “in relationship” and yet be completely alone in the work of holding it together.

Co-existing alone looks like this:

– You are the one who always adjusts

—your schedule, preferences, dreams.

– You self-edit your truth to keep the peace.

– You ask for nothing and provide everything.

– You are the consistent one, while the other is inconsistent, unpredictable, or indifferent.

–Your time, energy and effort are not valued.

This happens with:

– Parents you emotionally carry.

– Partners you consistently rescue.

– Friends who lean on you but never lean toward you.

– Systems and workplaces that reward your over-functioning but do not protect, promote, or truly support you.

Healthy relationships require reciprocity:

– There is incoming and outgoing.– There is give and take.

– Both people’s needs, limits, and humanity matter.

Chronically self-sacrificing sends an unspoken message:

“Your needs are sacred. Mine are optional.”

In my work as a therapist, I have rarely seen the level of gratitude or care match the level of self-sacrifice. More often, I see entitlement, neglect, diminishing behavior, dismissiveness and hurt layered upon hurt.

The level of self-abandonment is usually matched not with appreciation, but with disappointment, grief, shock and deep pain.

There is no back-pay for the years you gave away. And that, too, must be grieved.

Self-Abandonment: The Wound Underneath

We need to name what’s really happening:

Self-abandonment is when you repeatedly leave yourself to stay connected to others.

It can look like:

– Overriding your intuition.

– Ignoring the knot in your stomach.

– Saying “yes” when every part of you is screaming “no.”– Minimizing your pain so you don’t “make it a big deal.”

– Staying where you’re consistently dismissed, disrespected, or drained.

Many of us were praised for self-abandonment:

“She’s such a good girl—never complains.”

“He’s so loyal, so selfless, always there for everyone.”

“She’s the strong one.”

We learn to confuse self-erasure with virtue. We mistake martyrdom for love.

Here is a reframe:

Love that requires you to disappear is not love—it’s extraction and creep into exploitation.

Loyalty that demands your self-neglect is not loyalty—it’s bondage.

The thing we are so desperate to receive from others is often the very thing we must begin giving to ourselves.

If you want to be chosen, you must start choosing yourself—your rest, your truth, your joy, your healing.

If you want to be listened to, you must stop gaslighting yourself and start taking your feelings seriously.

If you want to be invested in, you must begin investing in your own education, gifts, talents, and well-being—your own mind, body, spirit, and soul.

Resetting Life After You’ve Built It Around Others

When you realize how much of your life has been shaped around other people’s needs, dysfunction, and expectations, the idea of “resetting” can feel terrifying.

Questions arise:

“Who am I if I am not the fixer, the caretaker, the rescuer?”

“Who am I if I am no longer their emotional life support?”

“Who am I if I am not connected to ______?”

"Who am I if I am no longer "needed"?

Resetting comes with secondary losses:

– Identity and roles.

– Shared routines and holidays.

– Financial stability, if you were enmeshed.

– Certain friendships and communities built around those dynamics.

It can feel like a death. And in many ways, it is a death—of an identity, a role, a fantasy.

You may know, logically, that you need to step back or step away. But emotionally, you still miss them. You still grieve what you hoped it would be. You still long for the fantasy of who they might become.

You can know you need the distance and still long for them to come closer, to finally see you, and to repair the distance and the heartache.

This is the messy middle:– You can see clearly and still be heartbroken.– You can choose differently and still grieve deeply.– You can walk away and still wish it had been different.

Both things can be true.

Learning What You Were Never Taught: Rebuilding Self-Trust

Betrayal—especially chronic, early betrayal—can fracture self-trust.

You may find yourself thinking:“If I missed all of this before, how can I trust my judgment now?”“What if I choose wrong again?”

Self-trust is not rebuilt overnight. It is rebuilt in micro-moments:

Micro-honesty:Telling yourself the truth about what you feel and what you see.“That hurt.”“I don’t feel safe.”“I’m not okay with this.”

Micro-choices:Small decisions that honor your body and boundaries.Choosing to rest instead of overextending.Saying “no” to one request that feels draining.Turning toward people who show up, not just those who show off.

Micro-repairs:When you override yourself—because you will sometimes—you notice it, acknowledge it, and circle back with compassion.

“I abandoned myself in that moment. I see it. I’m sorry, self. Next time I will listen sooner.”

Mindfulness supports this process. When you feel activation, anxiety, or shutdown:

– Notice where it lands in your body—head, chest, gut, throat.– Take a few slow breaths.– Ask: “What is this feeling trying to tell me?”

Your body has been speaking for a long time. It’s time to start listening.

Untethering: Calling Your Life Force Back to You

Untethering is the process of loosening the emotional cords that tie your worth to other people’s behavior.

It is moving from:“How do I get them to treat me differently?”to“How do I want to live, regardless of what they choose?”

It is realizing:

People in your life are ancillary—important, meaningful, beloved—but they are not the main stage.

You are the main stage. Your life force, energy, and journey matter.

Your joy is your responsibility.Your healing is your responsibility.Your gifts, education, creativity, and resources are your responsibility. Your body, mind, spirit and soul are yours to manage, cultivate, protect, preserve, and grow

This doesn’t mean you never give, share, or sacrifice. It means:

You give from your overflow, not from the parts of you that you need to stay alive, sane, and well.

Love and generosity are beautiful. Self-harm is not holy.

A Simple Release Ritual

– Write down one situation, person, or role where you feel over-attached or over-responsible.

– Fold the paper.

– You can place it in a box, bury it, or (safely) burn it outside in a fireproof container.

– As you release it, say:

“I release what is not mine to carry. I call my life force back to me.”

Recovery as a Living Practice

Recovery isn’t a light switch. It’s more like learning to walk again after you’ve been crawling for a long time.

Recovery includes:

Grief work:Allowing waves of sadness, anger, disbelief and numbness.Holding yourself gently: “Of course I feel this. Of course it hurts.”

Cognitive shifts:Moving from: “I wasted my life.”To: “I learned. I survived. I see more clearly now, and I get to choose differently.”

Somatic care:Supporting your nervous system with:

– Deep breathing

– Grounding exercises

– Stretching, walking, dancing– Mindful showers, baths, swimming, or time in nature

And yes, there will be wobbling:– Checking their social media.– Rehearsing what you wish you’d said.– Fantasizing that they’ll magically become who you needed them to be.

The measure of recovery is not never wobbling. It’s how gently and steadily you return to yourself when you do.

Reclaiming Creativity and New Dreams After Disillusionment

Survival mode narrows your vision. The goal is basic: get through the day. Don’t rock the boat. Don’t get hurt.

When you begin to step out of survival, there is often a strange emptiness:

“If I’m not chasing them, caretaking them, fixing them… what do I do with myself?”

This emptiness is not failure. It’s space.

Grieving what you’ve lost—dreams, relationships, years of self-abandonment—clears room to ask:

“What did that old dream represent?” Safety? Belonging? Self-expression? Freedom?

“How else might those needs be met now, with who I am today?”

You don’t have to know your “big vision” yet. You can start small:

– Collage or doodle while listening to music.

– Try a new recipe.

– Take a walk and notice colors, textures, sounds.

– Sing, dance, write, crochet, plant something.

– Let yourself play—not for performance, just for presence. Jacks, jump rope, clay, coloring.

Every tiny act of creativity is a way of saying:

My story did not end in that betrayal. Life goes on—and so do I. My life is for living.

A Blessing and an Affirmation for Your Journey

For the one whose life didn’t go as planned:

May you honor the grief for what was lost—including the parts of yourself you exiled to keep others comfortable.

May you tell yourself the truth about what happened, without drowning in shame or erasing your own resilience.

May you remember that your life force is sacred, and that no relationship is worth the cost of your soul.

May you learn to give from your overflow, and never again from a place that depletes or erases you.

And when others say “life goes on,”may you know that your healing, your joy, your creativity, and your flourishing are part of what makes that true.

Affirmation:

I honor the grief of what I lost, including the parts of me I abandoned to be loved.I call my life force, energy, and vitality back to me.I give from overflow now, not from emptiness. My life is mine to live, and I am worth the care it requires. I am worth the effort.

If these words are meeting you where you are, you don’t have to hold this alone.

The Live Well Live Whole™ Affirmation Cards were created for moments just like this—to help you honor your grief, remember your worth, and call your life force back to you, one card at a time.

👉 https://www.livewelllivewhole.com/product-page/mediation-affirmation-cards