There is something nobody warns you about when you lose someone you love.
The world keeps going.
The dishes pile up. The work emails come in. The grocery list still exists. Your family still needs dinner on the table. Life moves forward at the exact same speed it always has, and you are standing there completely hollowed out, wondering how anyone expects you to function.
Coping with loss when life doesn’t stop is one of the hardest things I have ever done. Not just because grief is painful, which it absolutely is. But because the contrast is so disorienting. You are in the middle of something enormous and the world around you acts like nothing happened.
I lost my mom and my dog Molly within weeks of each other. Two of my best friends, gone. I am not being dramatic when I say it pretty much destroyed me. There were days I could not tell you what I had for breakfast or whether I had eaten at all. I moved through the motions because I had to. Laundry. Daily tasks. Dinner. Repeat.
Support was there at first, and I am forever grateful for that. My family showed up. People checked in. There was comfort in knowing others understood the weight of what I was carrying. My mom’s health had been declining for a while, and during that season I leaned on my family hard. I wanted to talk, to connect, to process out loud. They were always there.
But grief has a way of outlasting the support around it.
Slowly, life picks back up for everyone else. The calls come less often. People mean well. They just have their own lives to return to. And then it is just you, standing in your kitchen at 7am trying to figure out how to keep going.
Here is what I want you to know: there is no right way to do this. There is no timeline. There is no guidebook for showing up when you feel completely empty inside. But there are small things that helped me survive the day-to-day, and I want to share them honestly.
What Actually Helps When You Have to Keep Going
Lower the bar without apologizing for it.
Some days, getting dressed is the win. Some days it is just getting out of bed. That is enough. You do not need to be productive. You do not need to perform okayness for anyone. Give yourself permission to do the minimum and call it a full day.
Protect your energy like it is the only thing you have.
It is, right now. Say no when you need to. You do not owe anyone an explanation. People who love you will understand. People who do not, well, that is information too.
Find small anchors and hold onto them.
A morning walk. A cup of coffee before anyone else is up. Music playing in the kitchen while you make breakfast. That last one was huge for me. The silence after loss has a weight to it that I was not prepared for. Music broke that up in a way nothing else did. Small rituals remind you that the ground is still under your feet, even when it does not feel like it.
Say their name out loud.
Talk about them. Tell stories. Laugh when something reminds you of them. This is not morbid. It is how they stay woven into your life. Some of the best conversations I have had since losing my mom have started with, “She would have said exactly that.” It keeps her close. It keeps Molly close. That matters.
Let it be awkward with other people.
People will say the wrong things. They will tell you at least you had good years with them, or that everything happens for a reason, or that they are in a better place. They mean well. They just do not know what to say. Most people have never been trained to sit with someone else’s pain. Take what feels like love, let the rest go.
Stop waiting to feel normal again.
You are not going to feel the way you felt before. That version of your life included them, and they are gone. What you are working toward is a new normal. A life that still has meaning and joy and purpose, even with this loss sitting inside it. That is not a consolation prize. It is actually possible.
On the Days You Cannot Do Any of That
Some days none of this works.
Some days you just sit in it. You cry in the car. You cancel the thing you said you would do. You eat cereal for dinner and go to bed at 8pm.
That is not a setback. That is grief doing what grief does.
You do not get over it. You carry it. The weight changes over time. It becomes more familiar. Less sharp. You get stronger because you have no choice. Slowly, you start moving forward again, different than before, but still moving.
That is brave. I mean that.
If You Are in the Middle of a Hard Season Right Now
One thing that helped me more than I expected was having something small and structured to hold onto on the hardest days. Just a simple reminder that I could still take one step forward, even on the days everything felt impossible.
That is actually the heart behind my free guide, When a Season Ends. It is for women who are in the in-between, the space after loss or transition where you are not sure what comes next. If that sounds like where you are, I would love for you to have it.
Grab the free guide When a Season Ends here.
A Book That Helped Me Through the Hard Days
If you are looking for something to help you get out of your own head during a tough season, I genuinely recommend keeping a journal nearby. Writing things down, even badly, even just a few words, creates a tiny bit of distance between you and the weight of what you are carrying. I have used guided journals during my hardest seasons and it helped more than I expected. This one on amazon is especially helpful.
When You’re Grieving Someone Who Is Still Here
If the person you are grieving is still alive but you are already in the process of losing them, this post is for you. Anticipatory grief is real and it deserves to be talked about.
A Note
You are not doing this wrong. Coping with loss when life doesn’t stop is one of the most disorienting experiences a person can go through. Give yourself what you would give a good friend: patience, grace, and the permission to not be okay while you figure out how to keep going.
You are still here. That means something.
And if you are ready to feel like yourself again, the 3-Win Daily Momentum Workshop was made for just that. Learn more here.
