The Grief That Dressed Itself as Strength
From The Healing Series
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What I mistook as shame or anger was actually mourning
For years, I thought I was angry.
Sharp-tongued. Quick to retreat. Hyper-independent.
I thought I was ashamed.
Of the debt.
Of the relationship I stayed in too long.
Of not living up to expectations—mine, theirs, the world’s.
But underneath the shame, and deeper than the anger,
was something quieter.
Something ancient.
Something I had not been allowed to name.
It was grief.
Grief Shows Up in Disguise
It can look like:
Perfectionism
Criticism (especially of yourself)
Control
Rage
Emotional numbness
Over-responsibility
Withdrawal
Grief doesn’t always cry.
Sometimes it micromanages.
Sometimes it scrolls.
Sometimes it says, “I’m fine,” with a frozen smile.
What I Was Really Mourning
I was grieving:
The years I lost to fear
The version of me I didn’t get to be
The love I wanted but never received
The energy I spent trying to be enough
The parts of myself I silenced to survive
I wasn’t broken.
I was bereaved.
And my grief didn’t ask for attention.
It put on a strong face.
It functioned.
It performed.
Until I couldn’t pretend anymore.
THX Frameworks for Naming the Grief
Grief is a form of clarity.
It reveals what mattered—and what was missing.
12 Utilities:
Clarity: I name what I lost—not to stay in it, but to honor it
Closure: I allow unresolved stories to breathe and end
Emotion Evoked: I let grief be real, without controlling it
Security: I create space where I can mourn safely
Value: My losses mattered—because I matter
PERMAH:
Meaning: I rewrite the narrative with compassion
Health & Wellbeing: Grief has a place—it doesn’t become the whole house
Positive Emotion: Slowly, joy returns when grief is no longer blocked
Admiration Equation:
I admire the part of me that kept going in silence
I admire those who grieve honestly
I feel awe that I am still becoming, even with a cracked-open heart
A Blessing for This Stage
May I stop mistaking my grief for failure.
May I stop labeling my mourning as weakness.
May I stop punishing myself for what I didn’t know then.May I meet my grief with reverence.
May I honor the life I lived to survive.
May I let sorrow shape me into someone softer, not smaller.And may my grief, once named,
become a bridge—not a burden.
Reflection Prompts
What part of me have I judged that was actually grieving?
What loss have I never fully mourned?
What happens when I say, “That mattered to me,” and let it be true?
What do I admire in the way I’ve carried grief—silently or not?
NEXT - The Fear of Being Loved
Sometimes the thing we want most still feels dangerous. Until it doesn’t.
