Recently, two friends here in New York and I decided to attend Fashion Week in September. One of them said she had a connection, her cousin Ashley, who ran a fashion magazine, could get us tickets. Ashley was part of our group, and we were thrilled.

But just a few days ago, Ashley exited the group chat. Before I even had a chance to check on her, my friend called to say that Ashley had passed. I was in shock. “What? How can that be?”

So what do we do with all of this?

Some of us become irritable or withdrawn. Others grow overly talkative, distracted, or bitter. Some blame themselves. Others blame God or everyone around them. Many of us slip into unhealthy habits. And beneath all of that is a deep longing we can’t always name.

Are We Grieving and Don’t Know It?

We often associate grief with the death of a loved one, but grief is a natural response to any kind of loss. A relationship. A dream. A job. A sense of identity. When these are stripped away, we ache and the pain can be traumatic.

But many of us were never taught how to grieve. Not at home. Not at school. So we say things like:

• “Everything happens for a reason.”
• “Relationships just doesn’t work.”
• “We all have to go someday.”
• “We all have something to be grateful for.”

And while gratitude is important, are we using positivity to bypass our pain?

Or we generalize:

• “I’ll never trust again.”
• “Nobody really cares.”
• “It is what it is.”

Some of us dismiss the pain entirely. We “just keep it moving.” But unresolved grief doesn’t go away—it waits. And eventually, our bodies—our minds, our hearts —keeps the score.

How Do We Begin to Grieve and Heal?

Grieving is not weakness. It’s courage. It’s strength. And healing? It’s not a straight path, but it becomes more possible when we practice kindness, forgiveness, compassion, and grow within community.

Here’s how we can begin:

• Cry. Let it out. Tears aren’t failure, they’re a release. I cry often. As a child and even now, people made fun of me for it. But I’ve learned that with my tears comes power. God is near to the brokenhearted. Every time I cry, I listen, and every time, He gives me strength. Because in my weakness, He is strong.
• Pray and read scripture. The Psalms reflect our full emotional range. In seasons when I couldn’t pray, I read the Psalms aloud. Most were written by King David—a warrior who wasn’t afraid to lament and ask hard questions.
• Talk to someone. A therapist, coach, or trusted friend can hold space for you. This was hard for me. Past experiences taught me not to trust people I once depended on. But I’ve since asked God for discernment, and I’m learning who I can confide in—and who I can’t. It’s been transformational.
• Fellowship. Healing thrives in community. I’m so thankful for the women in my life, women like you, who walk beside me through grief and growth.
• Journal. Writing helped me as a child when I didn’t have the language to express pain. It helped me process fear and shame. My journal was my safe space. Now I get to write here.
• Practice compassion. We begin with ourselves. Give ourselves grace. We take the breaks when needed. Culture glorifies hustle and hustle culture shames rest. As a single person, I would plan beach trips, movie nights, or chill with friends. Now, as a mom, my activities look different, but I am trying to make time to nourish my soul.

Why Don’t We Grieve Well?

Often, the root issues are unforgiveness or fear.

We want to blame someone – our partner, our boss, our parents, our kids, even God. We want someone to own our disappointment. But blame keeps us stuck. It blinds us to our own growth. It distracts us from the internal healing God is calling us to.

Unforgiveness is like a silent thief. It robs us of peace, joy, and progress. It keeps us rehearsing our pain instead of releasing it.

When I talk to people after a breakup, I often hear blame wrapped in hurt. “If he had just supported me more…” or “If she hadn’t betrayed me…” But when we dig deeper, what usually surfaces is a fear of rejection. Many of these same people have built emotional walls so high that love can’t reach them. True healing begins when we name the fear and extend forgiveness, not only to others, but to ourselves.

Fear causes us to self-protect. To quit dreams before we begin. Some people walk away from love, ministry, and calling not because they weren’t ready, but because they were afraid of being seen, making a mistake, or not living up to expectations.

Fear convinces us that grieving is dangerous because it makes us feel out of control. But, we never had control. Trying to bypass grief only prolongs our pain and eventually leads to self-sabotage.

We cannot fully receive or even recognize our true dreams until we forgive ourselves and others and take steps to work through our fears.

When Unforgiveness Goes Undetected because of unresolved grief

There was a time when I was offended by everything. Every comment, every silence—I took it personally. I didn’t know I had buried so much pain and unforgiveness. On the outside, I looked successful—traveling, working, building. But inside, I was weary and lost.

It wasn’t until I began dreaming of pursuing a PhD that I realized I was stuck. My offense was rooted in grief. I had unmet needs I didn’t know how to articulate. I was tired, disconnected, and unfulfilled. Healing came when I allowed myself to grieve, to forgive, and to extend compassion to myself. That’s when clarity returned—and the dream began to take shape.

I share more of this journey in my book, Fulfill the Dream.

What Do We Do Now?

Ask ourselves:

• What am I still grieving?
• Who do I need to forgive—including myself?
• What fears are holding me back?
• What do I need to release in order to move forward?
• Where can I find or create healing community?

Healing takes time. It begins with truth. It deepens through kindness. It is sustained by compassion and community.

Our dreams are still possible. But first, we must release the pain that’s weighing us down.

Grieve. Forgive. Be kind to ourself. Practice self-compassion. Lean into community. Grow.

We grieve our sister Ashley. May her soul rest in peace.

We are not alone. And our stories aren’t over.

With love and growth,
Sanchia and team.