 There is a conversation happening inside you all day long.
Most of us simply aren't listening. A tightening in the shoulders. A flutter in the stomach. A heaviness that arrives when we walk into a particular room. Fatigue that seems disproportionate to what we've done. A sudden sense of ease around one person and contraction around another. And sometimes, in my case, a jaw clenched so tightly you'd think I was preparing for battle. The interesting thing is that I don't necessarily feel stressed when I notice it. I'll be driving, working at my computer, reading, or going about an otherwise ordinary day when suddenly I become aware of my jaw. My teeth are pressed together. The muscles around my mouth are holding tension. I've learned not to immediately ask, What's wrong with me? or even What am I stressed about? Instead, I notice. Oh, sweetheart. You're holding again. I soften my jaw. Let my tongue relax. Drop my shoulders. Take a long, slow breath. Sometimes that's all there is to it. And sometimes, when I become quiet enough, I realize there is something underneath the tension that my thinking mind hadn't acknowledged yet.  This weekend, I did something I haven't done in a very long time.
I bought a tent. Not a luxury hotel. Not a beautiful Airbnb. Not a cozy cabin tucked into the woods. A simple tent. Along with a sleeping pad, sleeping bag, camp stove, and all the little bits of gear that somehow make sleeping on the ground feel like coming home. As we packed everything into the car, I realized this wasn't really something new at all. It was something deeply remembered.  There was a time when our ancestors understood that life moved in seasons. Birth, adulthood, partnership, motherhood, elderhood, death, and every meaningful transition between them were marked with ceremony. People gathered. Stories were shared. Tears were welcomed. Wisdom was passed from one generation to the next. No one was expected to navigate life's greatest changes alone.
Somewhere along the way, many of those rituals disappeared.  When we hear the word grief, most of us immediately think of death. We picture funerals, condolences, and the aching absence of someone we love. That is certainly one of life's deepest sorrows. But grief wears many faces, and some of the most profound losses we experience are the ones no one else can see.
Hidden grief quietly accompanies many of life's transitions. It appears when we let go of an old version of ourselves, when a dream quietly fades, when relationships change, or when life leads us down a path we never expected to walk. Because these losses often go unnamed, we may not recognize that grief is what we are carrying. |
AuthorTerri Lundquist Archives
September 2026
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