The Invisible Transition: When Your Old Life Ends But Your New One Hasn't Begun

When we experience a life-changing event -- well, that's exactly what happens: life changes. There's a space between who you were and who you're becoming -- and it can feel disorienting. Sometimes it's quiet, a gentle pull at a thread you can neither identify nor ignore. Sometimes it's as if a giant wave caught you off guard and knocked the wind out of you. I've experienced both kinds -- the devastating loss of loved ones that turned me inside out and my world upside down, and the quieter transition of changing careers. The former couldn't -- wouldn't -- be ignored, and the latter... well, in some ways that latter was trickier because it was mostly internal. This article will focus on the transition following the more dramatic losses. (Watch this space for a companion piece on the quieter shifts.)

When you lose a loved one or experience other traumatic events, like an illness or injury as an example, the loss is visible from the outside. Your identity, your roles, relationships, even abilities change. What others can't see is all the ways you get triggered in a day and all the ways the space between who you were and who you're becoming spreads out before you like an ever-growing abyss. You can feel, on what feels like a cellular level, that you are simply not the person you were before. And it takes time to discover who you're becoming because you first have to grieve who you were and what you lost. Grief is anything but linear. It's different for every person. And it takes as long as it takes (which is usually longer than we think it should).

If you're in that seemingly perilous in-between stage, find ways to be kind to yourself (kinder than usual), and find someone to talk to. Being able to speak about your feelings carries tremendous potential for release and relief. We never get over our loss, but our relationship to it can change over time if we do the work of feeling it and letting it move through us.

With gratitude to those who taught me along the way, here are a few things to know that may not be comforting at first but will help in the long run.

• The people you think will be there to support you in your grief may not be the people who are there for you. It's usually not their fault; they have a blind spot or a complicated relationship with grief that ultimately has nothing to do with you. It takes work, but bless and release as best you can.

• People will show up for you initially, and then they will go back to their lives and you will be left with your grief. This is why having someone to talk to about your grief (a counselor, coach, therapist, pastor etc.) is so important.

• You may feel more physically exhausted than you thought possible. "No" is a complete sentence. Use it.

• You are the expert on your own grief. People will offer advice because a) they want to provide comfort and/or b) your grief makes them uncomfortable. No one knows "exactly what you're going through."

I can tell you from experience, it is so hard to fathom that you're doing anything right because you're doing quite possibly the hardest thing you've ever done with ZERO preparation or training. Even if you had a plan, you will likely feel completely unprepared. THIS IS NORMAL. Find yourself someone who will tell you that you're doing a great job. Eventually, you will start to believe it. (If you need someone, my inbox is open.)

As a coach, my job is to help guide you to your own wisdom about your present and future. As a certified grief educator, and someone who has been through it, I understand that grief stirs up old trauma, some of which will surprise you. Coaching is not therapy, but it can be highly therapeutic. If you need to talk to someone about finding your way through early grief (which, by the way, is 2 YEARS), or you're ready to start rearranging your broken pieces to reassemble them into who you are becoming, please don't hesitate to reach out.

You don't have to figure this out on your own, and you most certainly are not alone.