The Grief No One Talks About in Midlife

It’s been a while since I’ve connected with you in this space.

I have been deep in grief… and the words haven’t flowed like they usually do.

Last weekend, I sat in circle with nine women.
I called them in because I needed them.

I needed the magic and medicine of circle.
I needed community.
I needed a safe place to be seen, heard, and loved in my grief.

And what I found…was that I wasn’t the only one.

Grief was everywhere.

It moved through the circle like a blanket, covering each one of us, individually and collectively.

Women are shedding so much right now.
And the grief… and the anger… are incredibly heavy.

But there was something else there too.

Not louder than the grief.
Not bigger than the anger.

But just as present.

A quiet remembering.

A remembering that we are not meant to carry this alone.

Because what I witnessed in that circle wasn’t just grief…it was courage.

It was women telling the truth about what hurts.
It was tears that had been held back for far too long finally being given permission to fall.
It was anger being named, not judged.
It was the softening that happens when a woman realizes…she doesn’t have to hold it all together here.

And something shifted.

Not in a way that fixed anything.
Not in a way that rushed the process.

But in the way that happens when grief is witnessed instead of hidden.

It moved.

Even if just a little.
Even if just enough to take a deeper breath.
Even if just enough to feel a tiny bit less alone.

And maybe that’s what so many women in midlife are craving right now.

Not answers.
Not quick fixes.

But space.

Space to feel.
Space to unravel.
Space to be honest about what this season is actually asking of them.

Because maybe the question isn’t…

“How do I get out of this?”

Maybe the question is…

“Who am I becoming through this?”

Because midlife has a way of asking that of us.

It peels back the roles we’ve carried for years.
The ones we were praised for.
The ones we hid inside of.
The ones we outgrew without even realizing it.

And in that unraveling…there is grief.

Grief for the woman you were.
Grief for what you tolerated.
Grief for the years you put yourself last.

And also…a quiet invitation.

To come back to yourself.

My Work Is Shifting Too

As I’ve been sitting with women, in circles, in conversations, in the quiet spaces in between, something has become very clear to me.

This work isn’t just about one kind of grief.

It’s about grief, period.

The grief of midlife.
The grief of becoming.
The grief of waking up and realizing…

I don’t want to keep living like this anymore.

The grief of outgrowing relationships.
Of questioning roles you once felt anchored in.
Of recognizing the ways you abandoned yourself just to keep the peace.

We don’t talk about this enough.

We celebrate the glow-up.
The reinvention.
The “next chapter.”

But we skip over the part where everything feels like it’s falling apart first.

That’s the space I’m becoming more devoted to holding.

Not just healing one experience…but holding women through the many layers of grief that come with being human.

Especially in this season of life where so much is being asked of you, to release, to redefine, to reclaim.

My work is expanding into a deeper space of grief, reclamation, and return.

A space where you don’t have to rush to the lesson.
A space where your anger isn’t too much.
A space where your grief isn’t something to fix… but something to honor.

A space where you get to meet yourself again, not as who you’ve always been for everyone else…
but as who you are now.

And who you’re becoming.

A Gentle Place to Begin

If you’re in this season…the unraveling, the remembering, the quiet rebirth…

I want to offer you something simple.

A place to land.

You don’t need to journal pages.
You don’t need to have the “right” answers.

Just take a breath… and ask yourself:

• What version of me am I grieving right now?

• Where in my life do I feel the most misaligned or disconnected from myself?

• What have I been carrying that was never mine to carry?

• What do I need more of in this season of my life?

• What is one small way I can honor that today?

And if it feels right…place your hand over your heart and say:

I am allowed to want more.
I am allowed to change.
I am allowed to become someone new.

If you’ve been feeling this…the heaviness, the anger, the quiet unraveling, you’re not lost.

You’re in the middle of something meaningful.

And you don’t have to navigate it alone.

For now… just stay with the question:

Who am I becoming through this?

And let that be enough.