Not all grief wears black.
Some losses are quiet. Unseen. Hard to explain.
Maybe it wasn’t a death, but something still vanished — a role, a dream, a version of yourself, or a future you were holding onto.
And now… you’re grieving.
Why Hidden Losses Matter
Of course, grief isn’t only about death. It’s also about change.
It’s about the love we had for what was — and the pain of what can no longer be.
When we lose things that don’t have a name — like health, favorite activities, identity, or possibility — the world doesn’t always give us permission to grieve.
So we must give that permission to ourselves.
What Does Hidden Grief Look Like?
You might be grieving:
• A diagnosis that altered your life
• A dream that never came true
• A career you had to leave behind
• A friendship that faded without a goodbye
• The version of yourself that existed “before”
These losses don’t come with casseroles or condolence cards. But they can feel just as painful as a death, because it is a type of death — the death of the future that’s never going to happen.
Writing Gives Form to the Formless
Writing can help you make reconnect with yourself. Many grievers find journaling to be helpful by getting some of the jumbled thoughts out of their head and into a place that can hold them, whether they are ever read again or not.
Here are a few journaling prompts to get started, see if any resonate with you:
• What feels different in my life — or in me — that I haven’t fully acknowledged as a loss?
• Is there something I hoped for that didn’t happen? What did that dream mean to me?
• What was once part of my identity that no longer fits — and how does that make me feel?
• If I could give this loss a name, even a poetic one, what might it be called?
• What parts of my life feel like they’ve quietly slipped away? How have I tried to cope with that?
• When I think about this loss, what emotions come up — and where do I feel them in my body?
• What do I need to hear right now, even if it’s just from myself?
• Are there messages I’ve internalized (from society, family, or culture) that say this isn’t a “real” loss? Do I believe them?
• What would it feel like to fully validate my grief — even if no one else understands it?
• Is there a way I want to honor this loss — through ritual, art, rest, or letting go?
You’re Allowed to Grieve Any Loss
Even if it’s quiet.
Even if no one else sees it.
Your pain is real.
Your loss is valid.
And your healing matters.
