10/14/2026
Five years ago I chose to walk away from a whole group of people I loved, and yesterday I found out one of them had died, and I cried like I still had a right to.
For most of my life I treated grief as something you earn by having a loss happen to you, like a death, a betrayal or a door someone else closes. When you’re the one who walks away, the unspoken rule is that you give up the right to miss what you left because everyone assumes you got what you wanted.
I’ve lived under that rule more than once. I left the religion I grew up in at seventeen and lost people I loved in the process. Almost five years ago I chose my daughters’ safety and my own over my marriage and the family that came with it. Every one of those choices was right and every one of them cost me something real.
So much of my work is helping people see who they are underneath what they were conditioned to be, and grief is one of the places where that conditioning shows up loudest.
There’s a name for it, disenfranchised grief, which is grief that goes unacknowledged because nobody thinks you’re entitled to it, and choosing the loss yourself is one of the fastest ways into it.
The way we rank whose grief counts tells us far more about our own comfort with it than about the person living it.
You can stand by a decision and still miss what it took. You can protect yourself and still mourn the life that would have existed if protecting yourself had never been necessary. I made the right call and I’m grieving what it cost and I’ve stopped asking anyone whether I’m allowed. The people. The years. The life that never got to happen. It’s all allowed.
I talk through all of it on the newest episode of I Have Something to Say, and the link is in my bio.