Ambiguous Grief and Loss

The grief we don’t talk about enough

When we think of grief and loss, we usually imagine losing someone we love, and the long, messy, painful process that follows. You’ve probably heard of Kübler-Ross stages of grief (denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance, meaning), and the fact that we actually move back and forth between them, not in order.

I feel “lucky,” I guess, that I haven’t lost anyone deeply close to me yet. I’m not ready for it, who ever is?, although some cultures prepare for death more than others. In mine, we don’t.

Lately I’ve been sitting with another kind of grief: ambiguous loss.

It’s the grief that comes from losing something or someone who is still physically here, or emotionally distant, or half-present. Sometimes it’s the grief of losing an ideal, a dream, a version of life we thought we’d have.

And on top of that, there’s something called disenfranchised grief, the kind of grief society doesn’t fully recognize or validate. It’s the pain we carry quietly because no one sees it as “a real loss”: the loss of a dream, a parent who is alive but emotionally unavailable, the loss of a job, the family we wish we had… This grief can be just as heavy, yet it’s rarely acknowledged.

These kinds of grief and loss have shaped me more than anything.

When I look back at one of my biggest losses, it’s not a person. It’s the loss of the ideal world my core self desperately wanted to live in.

For as long as I can remember, I imagined a society that was kind, fair, compassionate. A place where people took care of themselves, each other, the planet. Yes, it sounds utopian, and yet, that was my expectation. A deep, innocent belief that this should be the world.

And slowly, painfully, I had to realize:

The world is not what I wish it is. And it probably never will be.

That gap between what I want and what society actually is, hurts. It’s not a small gap. It’s a canyon.

And lately, I don’t see society moving in the direction I’d hoped. I don’t say this to be pessimistic. I say it because holding on to the fantasy hurts me more than the truth.

It’s the expectation that hurts.

Breathing in, breathing out.

Ambiguous loss shows up everywhere.

Once I understood this, I started seeing ambiguous loss everywhere:

• the ideal family relationship I wish I had,
• the financial stability society tells me I “should” have by now,
• the dream of a partnership or community that operates in harmony,
• the career timeline, the life timeline, the “American dream” we were all sold,
• the belief that the society will go towards my values…

These ideals are beautiful, truly, but when they don’t match reality, they can break our hearts over and over.

I had to grieve the idea that some relationships (especially family ones) will probably never be what I want them to be. Not because I’m doing something wrong, but because reality is reality.

Lowering the bar, the expectation, the dream, the fantasy, is grief.

It’s a quiet internal funeral. And yet it’s also freeing.

We can still keep our ideals as a north star, a soft direction, but not as an expectation that life must meet.

The work is:

• noticing our expectations,
• acknowledging them,
• letting the truth land,
• grieving what will probably never be,
• being kind to ourselves in that gap,
• honouring the beauty of what we wished for,
• and then loosening our grip.

Not dropping the dream… just holding it more gently.

I see so many people fighting reality, I get it. I did it too. But fighting hurts more than accepting what is.

Optimism alone can hurt. Reality, even when it’s hard, can be stabilizing. It can regulate our nervous system. Truth heals.

Society tells us that happiness equals a good job, a house, marriage, kids, stability. The so-called “American dream.” Is that really true?

For many of us, especially those “behind” on those milestones, holding that expectation is painful. Sometimes even impossible.

I wish society were built so nobody had to worry about money. What a relief that would be for our nervous systems! But that’s not the world we live in.

So instead, I come back to:

• what I do have,
• the proof that I’ve always taken care of myself,
• the tiny thread of trust that I will continue to do so,
• a bit of faith, in myself, in life, in something bigger.

One step at a time.

If you’re realizing that you hold an ideal, about society, a relationship, your family, your future, your finances, that doesn’t match reality, you might be grieving without knowing it.

Ambiguous grief is real.

Try:

• asking yourself if the expectation is realistic,
• gently lowering the bar,
• letting yourself grieve the dream,
• allowing space for truth,
• being kind to yourself through it.

You’re not giving up on beauty or hope. You’re giving yourself peace.

You can still create your own little corner of the world, your community, your relationships, your values, one drop at a time. (I love the hummingbird story for this.)

And remember: Healing takes time.

And you’re not alone.

🌱 If you’ve been struggling with your mental and emotional health, you’re not alone. I’m currently offering counselling sessions as a student counsellor, and I’d be honoured to support you on your path. Reach out anytime 🙂 Contact me

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