When Healing Is the First Step
This is Week 2 of our “Becoming Whole” series — six weekly reflections on what it means to move toward healing, growth, and greater wholeness. If you missed Week 1, you can read it here. This week, we’re exploring why the first step in building something new is often slowing down to grieve what’s been lost.
Before we can build something new, we often have to pause and face what’s been lost. Sometimes that loss is obvious—a loved one, a dream, a season of life we thought would last. Other times, it’s less visible: parts of ourselves we’ve buried, hopes we’ve quietly set aside, or the slow erosion of joy.
We live in a world that celebrates moving on quickly. We’re encouraged to “get over it,” to push past pain, to focus on the next thing. But the truth is, skipping the work of healing leaves cracks in our foundation. And eventually, those cracks will show.
Healing isn’t weakness. It’s not “wasting time.” It’s where restoration begins.
Why This Matters: What Research Shows
Grief isn’t only about death. It can be about anything we’ve loved, valued, or expected that is no longer part of our lives.
William Worden, a leading grief researcher, describes the first task of mourning as accepting the reality of the loss—exactly the step we’re talking about here.
Dr. Pauline Boss calls it ambiguous loss when the loss isn’t clear-cut—a relationship changes but doesn’t end, a role we once held disappears, or a dream we’ve carried no longer seems possible.
And as Dr. Bessel van der Kolk has shown in his trauma research, our bodies can carry the weight of unacknowledged grief, creating stress, anxiety, and even physical symptoms until that pain is processed.
In counseling, this “first step” often looks like slowing down enough to acknowledge and name what’s been lost—before we try to fix, rebuild, or run ahead.
Stories of Slowing Down
Grief can surface in ways we don’t always recognize at first. Sometimes it hides behind busyness, frustration, or a sense of being stuck. Here are a few ways it can show up in everyday life:
For one woman, it looked like restlessness at work. She was certain she needed to make a major career change, but as we talked, it became clear she wasn’t just bored—she was grieving. Years earlier, she’d been part of a close-knit team that had disbanded. She had never named that loss or given herself permission to miss it. Once she began to acknowledge and honor the value of that season in her life, the heaviness started to lift. Only then could she see clearly what she wanted next.
For others, grief takes shape in the changing seasons of family life. A middle-aged couple found themselves launching their teens into adulthood while also caring for aging parents. Their days were full of responsibilities, but empty of the freedom, spontaneity, and shared adventures that had once been part of their marriage. Finances felt tight, time was scarce, and somewhere along the way they had stopped tending to their own needs. Before they could rediscover joy together, they needed to grieve what had changed—so they could see this season not only for what it had taken, but also for what it could give.
Grief can also be quiet and unspoken in the life of a teenager. After a move to a new school, one teen found friends distant, lunch hours lonely, and nothing about the new routine felt like “home.” At first, they thought they just needed to “try harder” to fit in. But over time, they recognized that part of what they were feeling was grief—the quiet ache of leaving behind a community where they felt known. Naming that loss opened the door to finding connection again, not by replacing what had been, but by slowly building something new.
Sometimes, grief emerges years later, as we look back at a relationship through new eyes. A young woman had long struggled to connect with her mother. As a child and teen, her mother was more aloof than present, and seemed to have difficulty being fully engaged in their relationship. She often felt like she never lived up to her mother’s expectations. After her mother’s death, she learned that much of their relationship had been shaped by her mother’s own trauma. Through slowing down—processing with friends, family, and a counselor—she realized that acknowledging her pain and grieving the relationship trauma had stolen from both of them allowed her to move forward. She gained a clearer sense of who she was and how she wanted to walk in the world, along with a newfound compassion for the mother she once only felt anger toward.
In each of these moments, slowing down to name the loss made it possible to begin healing. That’s the quiet but essential work before rebuilding—the work that clears space for hope to take root again.
Pause and Consider
If you’re wondering whether grief might be part of your own journey right now, here are some questions to reflect on:
Am I feeling stuck, even when I try to take positive steps forward?
Do I find myself replaying past events, conversations, or “what ifs” in my mind?
Have I noticed changes in my sleep, appetite, or energy that seem tied to something unresolved?
Is there a loss—clear or subtle—that I haven’t given myself permission to acknowledge?
Your answers aren’t about diagnosis—they’re about awareness. Sometimes, simply recognizing “yes, there’s grief here” is the doorway to healing.
First Gentle Steps
If you realize grief is part of your story right now, here are some ways to begin:
Name what’s been lost — Write it down without editing yourself or explaining it away.
Allow space for feelings — through journaling, prayer, art, or talking with someone you trust.
Seek safe support — a counselor, pastor, or small group can help hold space for your process.
Release the timeline — healing is not a race; your pace is valid.
The Work Before the Building
Healing is like tending to a garden after a storm. Before you plant new seeds, you clear away debris, tend to damaged roots, and make sure the soil can receive life again. That tending takes time—but it’s what allows the new growth to flourish.
When we make space to grieve—whether through tears, quiet reflection, prayer, or connection with others—we are honoring the truth of our own story. And in that honoring, we are already taking the first courageous step toward restoration.
Because wholeness doesn’t come from ignoring our wounds—it comes from meeting them with honesty, compassion, and hope.
If you’re reading this and thinking, This might be me, know that you’re not alone. Our team at New Hope Counseling exists to walk alongside you—whether you’re just beginning to name a loss or are ready to take your next step toward healing. If you’d like to talk with someone in a safe and confidential setting, we’re here (717-786-2802).
Next Week
We’ll take this a step further by looking at the power of naming what hurts. Healing isn’t a straight line, and there’s no single timetable that works for everyone. Your story and your pace matter—and learning to honor that process can change the way you see yourself, your past, and your future.
Stay Connected
If you’d like to follow along with New Hope’s work, we invite you to connect with us on social media or subscribe to our email newsletter, The Common Thread. We’ll be sharing regular updates as we continue this journey together.
By Sheila Derr, Executive Director, New Hope Community Life Ministry