Grieving the Life You Thought You'd Have

And I am not talking about grieving the loss of a loved one.

I am talking about grieving the life you thought you were going to have, but God had other plans.

When I was little, I had my life planned out. I was going to be a teacher. I was going to live happily ever after, madly in love with my husband until we were in our 90s. Like every young parent-to-be, I had a long list of things my kids would never do. (Which they ended up doing.) And I was going to be a millionaire by the age of 40.

As I got into my 20s and 30s, I realized I probably wasn't going to be a millionaire by 40. I ended up not being a teacher. The bills didn't stop coming. And being madly in love with your husband is a little harder when you're raising kids together. Since I wasn't a millionaire, I didn't have the ability to stop working, hire a cleaning service every week, or have much help beyond my husband.

But none of that was anything to grieve.

So I kept doing what I had to do for everyone else.

I kept pushing through 60+ hour work weeks. I showed up to everything. I was present everywhere... except where I needed to be most: with myself.

I saw the yellow flashing signs, but I kept going.

I felt the moments my body was begging me to slow down, but instead I sped up & questioned myself.

Why am I so tired?

Why does every day feel like I'm pushing a brick wall?

Why do I feel hungover when I haven't had a drink in years?

Am I going crazy?

Then one day, my body said, "You're done."

"I've been giving you warning signs, but you didn't listen. So now I'll make you listen."

And boy, did it.

There were days I couldn't get out of bed. The brain fog became so bad that I struggled to put together a sentence. I started missing my kids' sporting events. I couldn't show up the way I wanted to (or at all), even for the people I loved most.

Then came the doctors.

So. Many. Doctors.

I was tested for everything imaginable and came away with a collection of "maybes."

"We need more testing."

"You need to see another specialist."

"We're not sure."

I even had one doctor tell me she wasn't going to touch me with a ten-foot pole because I had so many things going on.

This is the life I'm talking about grieving.

The life where you can't run around the yard with your kids.

The life where you miss sporting events.

The life where your husband lines up the babysitter, makes the dinner reservations, and you're still too exhausted to go.

The life where you watch everyone else's world keep moving while yours feels like it's standing still.

The grief of sitting on the sidelines while life keeps moving, wondering where the version of you went that could do it all.

The grief of losing trust in yourself because you've spent so long questioning what your own body was trying to tell you.

No one prepares you for grieving someone who is still alive.

Sometimes, that someone is you.

But even then... you keep pushing.

Pushing for answers.

Pushing to feel even 50% like yourself again.

Pushing to find doctors who will listen because your body finally made you listen.

For a long time, I thought healing meant getting my old life back.

The truth is, I'm still grieving parts of that life.

I'm still learning to accept that some chapters don't end the way we planned. Some dreams change. Some abilities fade. Some prayers are answered in ways we never would have chosen.

But I'm also learning that grief isn't the end of the story.

Maybe healing isn't always becoming the person you used to be.

Maybe sometimes healing is learning to trust God with the person you're becoming.

I don't have all the answers.

I'm still walking this road.

But if you've ever grieved the life you thought you were going to have, I hope you know you're not walking it alone.