Trigger Warning: Grief & Loss.

This has been a long time coming, and it’s deeply personal.

I lost my mom seven years ago, and grief has quietly walked beside me ever since. More recently, I lost my grandfather-in-law, and that stirred something else awake. Because death is so intricately woven into what it means to be human, I found myself reflecting on it through the lens of mindset, and more specifically, through the lens of the work I do around identity, beliefs, values, environment, and patterns.

If you’ve worked with me, you know I don’t believe in toxic positivity. There’s no “just think positive” that lifts you out of grief. It takes time, sometimes a lot of time, to feel a new version of normal. And even then, grief changes your internal landscape. Because when something or someone meaningful is gone, it shifts how you relate to the world.

And grief isn’t always about death. Sometimes it’s the quiet grief of walking away from something you once wanted. The job that no longer fits. The dream you’ve outgrown. The friendship that now feels one-sided. The old version of yourself that you had to release to become someone more whole.

Wherever you’re at, whatever you’re grieving, I hope this finds you in the exact moment you need it.

Identity: When Who You Are No Longer Feels the Same

Loss can create a before and after.
Before the loss, you were one version of yourself.
After, something shifts.

Sometimes it’s big, like losing a parent or partner. Other times, it’s more subtle, like becoming a mother and grieving the freedom you once had. Leaving a career and wondering who you are without that title. Ending a friendship that defined a season of your life.

In any case, your sense of who you are rearranges. You might not recognize yourself in the mirror, or in your routines, for a while. And that’s not failure. That’s transformation. Identity isn’t static. It’s allowed to change as you do.

Beliefs: What Grief Calls Into Question

Grief has a way of unearthing your beliefs.
You might begin to question everything, your direction, your timing, your own resilience.

If you’ve left a toxic job, you might wrestle with, What if I never find something better?
If you’ve ended a long relationship, you might wonder, Was any of it even real?
If you’re walking through a health diagnosis, you might quietly ask, Why me?

These questions don’t mean you’re broken. They mean you’re awake. And the beliefs that surface in these moments, especially the limiting ones, can be examined, reshaped, and reclaimed.

Values: What Still Matters, and What No Longer Fits

Loss has a way of clarifying what matters.
After grief, your values often get sharper.

You might no longer care about climbing a ladder if it costs you time with your kids.
You might finally prioritize rest over hustle.
You might realize you’ve been saying yes when you really meant no.

Whether the loss is a person, a version of yourself, or a season you’ve outgrown, grief often reveals what you no longer want to carry and what’s still worth holding.

Environment: The World Feels Different Now

Grief doesn’t just live in your head or your heart. It reshapes your environment too.
The calendar looks emptier. The house feels quieter. The dynamics around you shift.

This could be the absence of someone you love.
Or the new silence after leaving a workplace you once found comfort in.
Or the strange stillness of your home after your last child leaves for college.

Even positive transitions can carry grief. Because the environment around you isn’t just physical, it’s emotional. It holds memory. It holds meaning. And when that changes, it’s okay to feel a sense of loss.

And we’re wired for connection. Community helps regulate your nervous system. When your grief is witnessed, whether through a memorial, a text message, or simply sitting next to someone who gets it, your body begins to feel a little safer.

Patterns: Riding the Waves and Reclaiming Choice

Grief brings patterns. Some helpful. Some not.

You might notice spiraling thoughts.
Avoidance. Numbness. Or pushing through with a clenched jaw because you don’t have time to fall apart.

But patterns aren’t permanent. They’re simply learned responses.
And when you notice them, when you pause, you get to choose what comes next.

For me, that choice often starts with presence. Naming five things that are red. Placing a hand on my heart. Taking a deeper breath than I took a moment ago.

Sometimes, the emotion I reach for next isn’t joy. It’s something more neutral, like stillness, groundedness, or even just okayness.

You don’t have to feel better. You just have to feel honest. And from there, slowly, you build patterns that support your healing instead of numbing it.

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Wherever you are in your grief, whether it’s mourning someone, something, or some former version of yourself, may this remind you:

You are not broken.
You are in motion.
You are allowed to change.

And if your current identity feels unfamiliar, it doesn’t mean you’ve lost yourself.
It might just mean you’re meeting the next version of you.