Broken, But Not Done: Starting Over When You Don’t Feel Ready- PART A

Part A: Dealing With Guilt

There’s that dreadful morning, the day after every loss. You wake up and the world is still spinning, but it seems you’re now outside the ball and you’re not sure how get back in and join again. You find yourself staring, without seeing at the ceiling while lying in bed. Or, sat at your desk, you’re looking at a to-do list that suddenly feels pointless. Everyone around you seems to be moving forward, but your own gear seems stuck in reverse. The Sun is shining outside, yet in your own head is a thick grey, clammy fog. Not rainfall. But a thick cold cloud, neither sad nor happy, neither freezing, nor warm. Just that crippling, depressing pointlessness about everything.

Somehow, you try to muster some strength to reengage the world, but something follows you like a haunting, sinister shadow. Guilt.

Should I be doing this? Should I be doing that? Should I be laughing? Should I go to my friend’s party or cancel the conference I’d paid for? When is the right time to go back to work? And when is the right time, anyway, to pick up your life again? Have I even mourned appropriately? Is it that I didn’t really care? Would my dear departed be happy with my conduct now if they are seeing me? And on, and on. Questions that haunt us after a loss.

Anyone who’s suffered loss – whether a loved one, a marriage, a job, or a dream – would know some of these questions, or variants of the same, and has probably asked themselves the same. I find myself in such a place now. My father recently passed away – almost exactly 8 years after my mum – and as I write this piece, I still wonder: Should I even be doing this? Isn’t it too soon?

People say time is the greatest healer, but nobody defines what “that time” really means. We’re not taught how to start again when we’ve lost something or someone that matters significantly to us. Whatever the specifics, the void it leaves feels impossibly wide.

The different stages of grief – denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance – are well discussed concepts, with tons on literature on them, but does everyone move through them the same way, or in any kind of order? The truth is, everyone’s experience of loss is unique. Some people feel relief, guilt, anxiety, or even flashes of joy mixed in. For me, it’s the guilt that has almost broken me, but I am finding some learning in it, in case it helps anyone else.

Naming the Void

My first few days, stretching into weeks now, have been a kind of fog. There has been confusion, denial and numbness. And then, there is the guilt.

Guilt is one of the trickiest emotions after a loss or setback. I am seeing that it does spiral into something darker when not acknowledged and addressed. Though you might know, rationally, that you’re not to blame, but you feel the weight of the guilt anyway. And that weight crushes you down below the surface until you see nothing but dark.

One poignant fact I’ve learnt is this: guilt doesn’t change the past. We can’t go back (at least not yet). So, what can we do instead? Or more importantly, what can I do instead of being weighed down by a baseless sense of guilt?

Why Guilt Happens

People experience guilt for all kinds of reasons: things left unsaid, choices made, what they did or didn’t do or even for beginning to “move on.”

• Guilt gives us a way to feel control: Sometimes guilt gives us the illusion that we could have changed the outcome. In grief research, this is called “magical thinking” – the mind’s attempt to make sense of chaos.

• It’s about values: As Kübler-Ross (1969) wrote, and later Neff (2011), Guilt often shows up when we think we’ve gone against our values or responsibilities, even if that belief isn’t logical.

But How Do We Deal With The Guilt?

1.     Acknowledge and Name It:

I’m learning to call and acknowledge guilt for what it is – Guilt. And I have seen also that it’s only a feeling. I also get granular with it when acknowledging it: For example, I acknowledge to myself that “I feel guilty that when I was in London in May, I could have gone to Nigeria to see my dad, even if just for two days, but I brushed it off thinking he was due to visit us in Canada in less than eight weeks anyway, but he never made it.” I acknowledge the guilt I feel “for not booking his ticket for an earlier date, for not calling him often enough, even though we speak very regularly up till the last hour of his death. I acknowledge the guilty feeling of “not showing him enough love, even though I did everything a child could”. I say these things out loud. Naming these guilty feelings, i.e “I feel guilty about X”, writing them down or saying them out loud have been shown to be important first steps towards healing and moving forward from grief (Neff, 2011).

Acknowledging our guilt and perhaps shortcomings is not however an end in itself, and it shouldn’t end there. It should lead to forgiveness, forgiveness of ourselves. Yes, we could have done things differently, but we didn’t. It might not have been okay and that’s hard to accept, but it is okay “now” and we can practice self-forgiveness and accept the steps we took.

I’m not by any means minimizing how tough this can be on an individual. I’m still struggling with it, even when I put on a brave face for the world. I still feel it even when people tell me I looked after my parents. The doubts still creep in. Did I, really? Would things have changed if I’d visited my Dad in May? Would it have been different if I called Mum on the Sunday before she died – at the time I used to call her – rather than postpone it because I was tired that day? Probably not, but I’ll never know. That’s the thing about guilt: you never know, yet it lingers, and ignoring it only makes it grow.

2.     Reality-Check Your Thoughts:

Our thoughts aren’t always facts. I ask myself: What would I say to a friend in my situation? Did I really have as much control as I think? Am I holding myself to an impossible standard?

3.     Make Amends If You Can:

Sometimes guilt points to something we truly wish we’d handled differently. If it’s possible and appropriate, apologize or make a meaningful gesture. If not, you can try something symbolic, like writing a letter that you’ll never send. At least, studies have shown that rituals like this can help bring us closure.

4.     Practice Self-Compassion:

We can and should acknowledge our pain without self-judgment. Self-compassion has been linked to better emotional recovery. These days, I try talking to myself gently: “I did the best I could for my parents with what I knew and with what I had at the time.”

5.     Look for The Lesson, Not The Punishment:

Instead of seeing guilt as something to endure, I am learning to use it as information: “What can I learn? How can I honor my values or my parents’ values and teachings going forward?” I’ve learned to honor their memories by practising what mattered most to them: kindness. I’m also learning to live fully, every single day. My new motto is this: Live. A. Lot. Because You Only Live Once.

As Tedeschi & Calhoun (2004) reported, studies on post-traumatic growth show that meaning-making helps transform guilt into motivation for positive change.

6.     Accept That Guilt Is Part of Grief:

I’m learning to accept that guilt is normal, and it doesn’t mean you’re a bad person. Over time, as literatures have promised, guilt in time softens as you heal and gain perspective.

If you’re reading this and carrying your own guilt, know that you’re not alone. The weight may never fully disappear, but it can become something you live with and, in time, grow from. Healing doesn’t mean forgetting or excusing. It means forgiving yourself enough to move forward, even if you’re not sure you’re ready.

If anything here resonated with you, or if you have your own story or lesson to share, I’d love to hear from you, and perhaps our conversation may facilitate the healing we all need. I encourage you to write it down for yourself, whatever your guilt is based on. Sometimes, just naming what hurts is the first step toward healing. Write down one guilt you’re holding onto. Then, write a response to yourself as if you were comforting a dear friend. You might be surprised by what kindness can do.

There’s no timeline for this work. Take what you need, leave what you don’t, and remember: it’s okay to go at your own pace. You’re not making this up or being dramatic. Everything you’re feeling is backed by decades of psychological research, and by the lived experience of countless others.

This is just Part A of the journey. My learning and reflections continue. I’ll be exploring the practical steps, research, and small acts that help us gently begin again – when and how to take those first steps, and how to keep moving even when it feels impossible. I will be sharing these in a Part B to follow soon. Please look out for it.