It was one of those trips I wish I could bottle up and keep forever.

Reese and I had just spent a few days in New York City—walking through the park, lingering over meals, laughing, talking, and just being together. The kind of time that feels both ordinary and sacred all at once.

There was nothing rushed.
Nothing forced.
Just presence.

And I found myself noticing things I don’t always slow down enough to see…

The way she laughs.
The way she tells a story.
The way she’s growing into who God created her to be.

And if I’m being honest, there was a quiet awareness underneath it all.

This time is shifting.

Because in just a few short weeks, she’ll leave for her summer job as a camp counselor… and she’ll be gone the entire summer.

And while I am so proud of her…
so excited for her…
so expectant for what God is going to do in and through her…

There’s also a part of me that feels it.

That subtle ache.
That quiet grief that doesn’t announce itself loudly…
but lingers just beneath the surface.

Not because anything is wrong.

But because something meaningful is changing.

And I think that’s something we don’t talk about enough.

That you can be deeply grateful…
and still grieving.

You can be excited…
and still feel the ache of letting go.

You can trust God completely…
and still feel the weight of what’s shifting.

But so often… we don’t let ourselves sit there.

We rush past it.
We minimize it.
We tell ourselves we should just be thankful and move on.

And without realizing it… we skip something sacred.

We skip lament.

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The Grief We Don’t Talk About

There’s a quiet kind of suffering that doesn’t always look like suffering.

It looks like showing up.
Smiling.
Serving.
Getting things done.
Taking care of everyone else.

It looks like strength.

But underneath?

There’s a heaviness you can’t quite name.
A tension in your body that never fully releases.
A low hum of exhaustion.
Moments where you feel… off.

Not broken.
Just not whole.

And if you’re honest, you’ve probably said things like:

“I’m fine.”
“It wasn’t that bad.”
“I should be over this by now.”
“Other people have it worse.”

But what if the issue isn’t that you’re too emotional…

What if it’s that you’ve never really allowed yourself to feel?

Most people don’t realize how much grief they’re actually carrying.

Because grief isn’t just about death.

Grief is:

• what you lost
• what didn’t happen
• what changed
• what was taken
• what you hoped for but never received

It’s the marriage that didn’t turn out the way you thought.
The relationship that broke your trust.
The version of yourself you don’t feel like anymore.
The childhood you didn’t get.
The safety that was violated.
The season that changed everything.

And instead of grieving…

We move on.
We push through.
We minimize.

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Why We Minimize Grief

For many of us, minimizing grief didn’t start in adulthood.

It started early.

Maybe you were taught:

• “Stop crying.”
• “You’re fine.”
• “Don’t be dramatic.”
• “Be strong.”
• “Other people have it worse.”

Or maybe no one said those words directly…

But you felt them.

So you learned:
Your emotions are inconvenient.
Your pain is too much.
Your needs are a burden.

And over time, you stopped feeling… and started functioning.

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But Scripture Tells a Different Story

When you open the Book of Lamentations, you don’t find polished faith.

You find raw grief.

Jerusalem has been destroyed.
The people are devastated.
Everything familiar is gone.

And the book begins like this:

“How lonely sits the city that was full of people…” (Lamentations 1:1)

That word—how—isn’t a solution.

It’s a cry.

Then:

“She weeps bitterly in the night…” (1:2)

And:

“Is it nothing to you, all you who pass by?” (1:12)

Have you ever felt that?

Like your pain is invisible?
Like people are moving on while you’re still carrying something heavy?

Then this:

“For these things I weep…” (1:16)

“My stomach churns…” (1:20)

This is not filtered.
It’s not rushed.
It’s not minimized.

It’s honest.

And God put it in Scripture.

Which means this:

God is not asking you to skip your grief.
He’s inviting you to bring it to Him.

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What Minimizing Grief Actually Does

Minimizing grief doesn’t make it go away.

It just changes how it shows up.

Instead of sadness, you may feel:

• anxious
• irritable
• emotionally numb
• overwhelmed
• disconnected
• exhausted

You may find yourself:

• staying constantly busy
• over-helping others
• controlling what you can
• shutting down emotionally
• reacting more than you want to

Because unprocessed grief doesn’t disappear.

It leaks.

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The Patterns We Don’t Notice

In my counseling work, I often walk clients through something called the Unhappy Kid Triangle.

And this is where things start to make sense.

When grief isn’t processed, we tend to move between three roles:

Helpless Baby

“I feel overwhelmed and alone.”

You shut down.
You feel stuck.
You isolate.

Bossy Helper

“I’ll just stay busy and take care of everyone else.”

You overfunction.
You perform.
You stay needed.

Blaming Bully

“Nobody cares. This is too much.”

You become reactive.
Frustrated.
Controlling.
Critical.

And the cycle repeats.

Not because you’re broken…

But because your grief was never processed.

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What Healing Actually Looks Like

Healing doesn’t begin when you “move on.”

It begins when you slow down long enough to tell the truth.

This is what Scripture calls lament.

Lament is:

• honest
• relational
• emotional
• grounded in truth

It sounds like:

“This hurts.”
“I’m grieving.”
“This mattered.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I’m struggling.”

No pretending.
No rushing.
No shame.

---

A Different Way Forward

When we stop minimizing grief, we begin to move toward emotional and spiritual maturity.

In the Happy Kid Triangle, this looks like:

Happy Kid — Honesty

You acknowledge your emotions without shame.

Caring Friend — Compassion

You stop minimizing your pain and allow space for support.

Respectful Leader — Wise Action

You take healthy steps forward without rushing your healing.

You learn to hold both:

Grief…
and growth.

Sadness…
and responsibility.

Pain…
and hope.

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You Don’t Have to Rush This

Friend, if you’ve been minimizing your grief…

You’re not alone.

And you’re not behind.

You’re human.

But healing begins when you stop saying:
“I’m fine.”

And start saying:
“This hurts.”

You don’t have to have it all figured out.

You don’t have to rush your healing.

You don’t have to carry this alone.

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Reflection Questions

Take a few minutes and sit with these:

1. What would honest lament sound like between me and God?
2. What am I grieving right now?
3. What have I lost?
4. What has changed in me?
5. Where am I minimizing my pain?
6. What emotions feel hardest to allow?

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Next Steps

If you’re ready to go deeper:

Listen to Episode 114

Stop Minimizing Your Grief: How to Lament, Heal, and Move Forward with God

If this resonated with you, I go deeper into this conversation in Episode 114 of the podcast.

Book a Biblical Counseling or Family Coaching session:

Explore the Happy Kid Toolkit:

Join me at an upcoming Renew & Restore Women’s Healing Retreat:

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A Final Word

God is not asking you to be stronger.

He’s inviting you to be honest.

Because healing doesn’t begin when you perform…

It begins when you tell the truth.

With hope and gratitude