Grief and Loss Are Part of Everyday Life—Here's How to Honor Them
We say grief and loss—but it starts with loss
Whether it’s because I’ve been sitting with the quiet awareness of my own impermanence or feeling the weight of great loss from both near and far, I’ve been thinking a lot lately about grief and loss. I’ve also been considering that it may be more accurate to say loss and grief—if we name the loss first, can we then honor the grief?
Whichever way we say it, I want to highlight in this post that loss does not need to be substantial to be significant.
And losses are not just occasional experiences—they’re constant. They’re stitched into the tapestry of our everyday lives—quietly, steadily, and often without acknowledgment. And the accompanying grief is ever present as well.
Losses happen every day, not just with major events
One of my mentors once said something that has stuck with me: “Decision-making requires an awareness that there is no decision without a loss.”
We are always choosing. This path, not that one. This relationship, not that opportunity. This identity, this home, this job … each choice means something else is left behind. And with that comes loss.
To be sure, having choices is a form of privilege—one not equally distributed across people, communities, or circumstances. Some choices are made for us, especially in childhood or in systems where power is uneven. So, knowing we have choices can feel like empowerment. Exercising choice can feel like self-trust or control. And still, every decision made carries a shadow of something left behind.
So what kinds of losses do we experience every day?
Time we can’t get back
Money spent or never earned
Health that shifts with illness or age
Control that slips away in unexpected moments
Safety in our communities or homes
Connection that grows distant
Political stability that once felt secure
Information that we don’t have but want or need in the moment
Jobs, status, and roles we identified with
Appearance altered by age, illness, or events
Sexual functioning changed by hormonal transitions or other circumstances
Hobbies or interests for which we no longer have time, energy, or ability
Relationships through divorce, estrangement, distance, or death
Childhood or “innocence” as we grow and age
Identity as we evolve or face shifts in how others see us or as we see ourselves
Places we’ve moved away from
Culture or language left behind through relocation or adoption
Retirement and what it takes from our structure or sense of purpose
So, I invite you to pause for a moment to name a loss from your day today. Just one. Sit with it without judgment or any desire to change it. Just name it. Just be with it. Know that it’s a loss. Know that it’s valid. Know that it matters.
We are grieving all the time
A friend—who is a grief and loss therapist—once said to me, “I tell anyone who will listen—we are grieving all the time.” And I believe she’s right.
I’ve left homes, communities, and cultures through cross-country moves. I’ve said goodbye to friends and family through death, distance, estrangement, and the quiet passing of time. I’ve felt the ache of losing a sense of safety in the world. I’ve aged, and with that, I’ve lived the slow losses of identity and roles I once held. And, I imagine, like all other humans, I carry the grief of the things that never were—unlived options, paused dreams, alternate lives I’ll never know.
With these losses, I’ve grieved.
Sometimes that grief is heavy, profound, and seemingly endless. Sometimes it asks me to sit in silence, doing nothing but bearing witness. And sometimes, when I haven’t named or honored what’s been lost, the grief shows up sideways—through irritation, selfishness, or frustration I can’t quite explain.
Canva image created by this author
Grief is part of being human
Grief, after all, is part of being human. It’s part of loving, choosing, changing, and growing.
We don’t always name it that way. We talk about grief like it only belongs to death or big, life-shattering events. We talk about grief like it’s someone else’s burden. But grief lives with all of us in the quiet corners of everyday life—in transitions, in letting go, in the choices that close one door while opening another. It's there when we grow out of an old identity, when we move toward something new, or when we realize we can’t go back to how things once were.
To grieve is to have cared. To have hoped. To have dared to imagine a different future. Grief means we’ve invested part of ourselves in something or someone—and that something has shifted or is gone.
This doesn’t make us broken—it makes us beautifully, tenderly human.
What happens when we ignore our everyday grief
When we don’t name our grief, it doesn’t disappear—it just finds other ways to surface. It might show up as irritation, numbness, or a quiet disconnection from the people or things we usually care about. We might even slip into coping strategies that don’t really help—like avoiding, overfunctioning, or withdrawing.
Acknowledging our grief doesn’t mean wallowing. It means making space to witness it. To say, “I see you.” To pause and recognize what’s been lost—without assigning any value of “good” | “bad” or “big” | “small” to the loss.
What does it look like to honor your grief?
We don’t need dramatic rituals to acknowledge everyday grief. What matters is consistent, gentle attention. Here are a few ways to honor your losses and tend to your grief:
Name it. Even a quiet moment to think, “That was a loss”, is powerful.
Let yourself feel. Grief isn’t linear. You might feel angry, sad, relieved, confused. All of it is normal.
Write it out. Journaling or listing small daily losses can build awareness.
Mark it. Take a walk. Put your hand on your heart. Light a candle. Create a small gesture of remembrance or care.
Talk to someone. Share your thoughts with a trusted friend, partner, or therapist.
Practice regular self-care. Daily grief calls for daily support—this might be sleep, hydration, creative time, movement, or boundaries.
Be gentle with yourself. You don’t need to fix or rush anything. Just stay close to yourself.
How individual therapy can help with loss and grief
Grief doesn’t always make sense. It doesn’t follow a neat timeline. It doesn’t ask permission. And it doesn’t only show up after death.
That’s why individual therapy can be such a supportive space. It offers support
to say things you haven’t been able to say anywhere else
as a space where your grief is not too much, too complicated, or too invisible
in a place to be seen in your experience, and to slowly, safely make sense of it
for all the ways grief touches your identity, relationships, and choices
Therapy can help you feel less alone, more understood, and more empowered to care for yourself. You deserve space to explore what hurts and what helps.
Let’s work together
If this resonated with you, or you’re finding yourself navigating feelings from loss—big or small—I’d be honored to walk with you. Learn more about individual therapy with me here, or schedule a free consultation. You don’t have to wait for things to get worse. Your grief deserves your care now.
with love and care,
JoEllen
