How I’m Confronting Grief to Move Forward

In the mid-90s, our family visited SeaWorld Cleveland, creating unforgettable memories. My mom took the photo. (l to r: me, my dad, my older sister)

My ultimate glow-up plan for 2025 has to start at the root: processing grief.

Grief has a funny way of surprising you when you least expect it. You think you’ve healed, moved on, or put it in a box marked “handled,” only to resurface when a certain song plays, a smell lingers in the air, or a memory creeps back into your mind. For me, grief isn’t a single event — it’s a journey, one I’m still navigating.

It started when my father lost his battle with cancer at only 37 years old. I was just 12. At the time, I didn’t fully grasp what it meant to lose him, only that my world had changed forever. There were so many moments he never got to witness — my high school graduation, my college years, the person I’ve grown to become, and the life I built in New York City. In the back of my mind, I’ve always wondered what my life would have been like if he were still here. I’ve hoped he’d be proud of me, even while knowing in my heart that he would be. 

I pushed through life with the weight of that loss buried deep and trying not to dwell on the pain. But grief doesn’t stay buried — it finds its way back when you least expect it.

In 2024, I faced another devastating loss, one that cracked open wounds I thought had healed. And with it, waves of unprocessed grief from my father’s death came crashing back. It wasn’t just about this new pain; it was about all the years I spent suppressing my grief, thinking I had moved past it.

I've also had to confront another form of grief — the grief of a life I had imagined but never lived. Society often tells us that we should have hit key milestones by a certain age: marriage, children, a picture-perfect life. For years, I felt behind, like a late bloomer trying to catch up. But as I sit here at 38, I realize that my timeline is my own and that succeeding in life doesn’t always mean fitting into a prescribed mold.

Another family trip, this time to Hershey, PA.

Studies show that unprocessed childhood grief can have long-term effects, leading to anxiety, depression, difficulty forming relationships, and even physical health issues.

“Childhood experiences can still be impacting us in the present in ways we may not be fully aware of or able to change alone,” Rebecca Rampe, Psy.D., told the UAB Reporter in 2023. “This may be difficulties with managing emotions, self-regulation, relationships, body awareness and self-compassion. Childhood trauma often leads to engaging in adaptive habits for the time that no longer serve us outside of that childhood setting.”

Looking back, I see how my grief shaped my fears, my relationships, and even my sense of self-worth.

Now, I'm finally giving myself permission to process. I’m committing to continued therapy, where I can untangle the grief that has followed me for decades. I’m leaning into artistic expression — writing, storytelling, and creative projects that allow me to give my grief a voice. Meditation and breathwork will help me sit with my emotions instead of running from them. Lastly, I'll tap into my community for support and do things that bring me joy.

Grief isn’t something to “get over.” It’s something to work through, to honor, and to grow around. This journey isn’t easy, but I know that facing my grief head-on is the only way to truly glow up — from the inside out.