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

Part B: Why “Just Move On” Doesn’t Work

Why “Just Move On” Doesn’t Work

While stages or buckets exist in the grieving process, it’s worth noting that this doesn’t happen linearly, and our grieving experiences are as unique as we are. If you feel stuck, you’re not alone.

Grief and major setbacks can alter our brain’s wiring, particularly in areas related to motivation, memory, and even physical energy. The sense of being “paused” is a real phenomenon.

The world may push us to “just get over it,” but that’s not how humans work. There’s a myth that resilience means bouncing right back. Yes, this may be true in other contexts, but it’s completely different in post-traumatic situations such as grief. As Tedeschi & Calhoun (2004) noted, people can and do grow from adversity, but the process is rarely quick or tidy.

Healing isn’t about erasing what happened or pretending you’re “fine.” It’s about figuring out how to live with what’s changed – and with what’s missing.

Another pressure we often deal with is “moving on,” and that pressure can feel quite suffocating. Well-meaning friends or even strangers might toss out clichés: “Everything happens for a reason,” or “You’ll be stronger for this.” You and I know those words sometimes – often times – make things worse. They skip over the messy human part: the real pain, the confusion, the uncertainty about what comes next, and worse still, no one tells you how or when to move on. Does anything like that even exist?

Tiny Steps, Not Giant Leaps

One thing I’ve learned is this: when you’re stuck, the way out isn’t a dramatic leap; it’s the smallest possible step – or a series of them. It may be in establishing new habits or re-establishing old ones. Simple steps and micro-actions that may seem small, but go a long way in helping us move on.

In my own grief, I lost my appetite. I lost the zeal to care for my family. I lost fervor for my work, even though I really love what I do. I felt angry when I saw people’s posts on social media celebrating their parents’ birthdays or special occasions, knowing I would never be able to do that for mine. My emotions were, and still are, all over the place. I could simply see an image that reminds me of my parents and I would burst into tears. A simple tree or flower could make become very angry because I know I would never be able to share that with dad who loved horticulture. But I also do staying in those negative emotional zone will not be beneficial for me in the long run. So what do I do, and more importantly, where do I begin?

I have projects to complete and life goals to meet. More importantly, I have children and a husband who need me, and a larger family who need my support. I needed – and still need – to find a way to get “it” together.

I have found the following ways helpful, and I sincerely hope they benefit someone in similar situations. These are the ways I’m learning to “get it together and move forward.”

1. Self-Compassion

I’m practicing self-compassion and using it as a superpower. I touched on this briefly in Part A. The hardest thing about starting again is the voice in our heads that says, “You should be doing better by now.” Think about it: who sets the timer on your recovery? The answer is no one – not even you. So why won’t you (or why won’t I) give yourself (myself) a little leniency?

I ask myself, “What would you say to someone you love who’s in your shoes right now?” and then I give myself the same answer. I’ve realized self-judgment will stall me more than any other setback would. Besides, treating oneself with even a fraction of the kindness you’d offer a friend has been linked to greater resilience, less anxiety, and a faster return to motivation.

2. Habit Formation (New or Renew Old Ones)

It’s remarkable how even the smallest actions become incredibly difficult during trauma or grief. Picking up a pen, sending an email, answering phone calls, and eating can all feel monumental. But that’s precisely where and how to start again. Tiny steps, micro-actions like sending one email at a time, walking around the block instead of doing a 10k you would normally do, or just making your bed, can begin to rebuild momentum.

I love gardening and woodworking, but I haven’t been able to do either since my dad died. I ask myself daily, “What would Mum and Dad want?” They would want us to keep living. So, this weekend, I decided I want to start doing that. I picked up some of my gardening tools again. I started weeding my garden and continued installing the privacy screen I had abandoned. What would normally take me a few hours took me an entire day, but I’m not on anyone’s clock but mine. I kept telling myself: baby steps. When your world has tilted off its axis, even the tiniest bit of progress matters.

3. Meaning-Making and Narrative

After a big loss or failure, it’s natural to ask, “What now?” Finding meaning in life – through logotherapy, Ikigai, or other approaches – is a powerful motivator for moving forward. You don’t need to have all the answers – certainly not at once – but the act of asking, “What still matters to me? What’s worth carrying forward?” is powerful. This “narrative identity” is important because we are, in a sense, the stories we tell ourselves about what happened and where we go from here.

4. Don’t Ignore the Community and the Unseen Hand

I’ve realized it takes a village to do everything. When I lost the zeal to eat or cook, I found food delivered to my house on different occasions by different people. Ice cream and bottles of my favorite wine appeared at my doorstep. Flowers arrived. Friends came over just to sit down, talk, and watch TV, helping me keep a semblance of normalcy. Friends from across the world called and stayed on the phone with me for endless minutes. My husband also received secret messages from friends and family asking how I was doing.

I truly appreciate all the people in my corner. Thinking about their support makes me tear up every time. There is no doubt that I am where I am today in my grieving process because of their help. Isolation makes every setback harder, but knowing you have even one person in your corner who understands your plight can shorten your recovery and lighten the burden.

You don’t have to announce your pain to the world, but maybe text one person today and share something real that’s been bothering you. The act of reaching out, even in a small way, is a step toward healing.

5. Permit Yourself to Be Messy

Progress isn’t linear. Some days I feel almost normal, and then a memory or a bad moment sends me right back, and the floodgate of tears opens again. I don’t see this as a failure; it just makes me human. Our brains are wired to fear judgment – from others and ourselves.

Our society expects a stoic person who has it together all the time. No such person exists. The truth is, most people are too caught up in their own struggles to notice if you or I are “behind.” Therefore, permit yourself to be exactly where you are. I am learning to do the same.

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Broken, But Not Done

In conclusion, I may be broken, but I’m not done. I’m starting again. Starting over isn’t about forgetting or pretending I’m untouched. It’s about carrying my history with me – the scars, the stories, the good, the bad, and all the ugly – and most importantly, the eternal love and gratitude I have for my parents. Starting again is me choosing to move, even if it’s slow.

Similarly, for anyone reading this piece, you’re not done, you’re just starting from here, from where you are.

And if the next step seems unclear, or uninspired. It’s ok too. You are not on anybody’s clock, including yourself. Allow yourself your own pace. In time, when you decide to yield open the window of your spirit a little, the light will stream in and grief gets easier.

However it evolves, you may be broken, but you’re not done.

P:S

I’m not a grief counsellor or coach, but feel free to reach if you need to.