grieving what you’ve lost

The process of changing something or creating something new is exciting. It’s life-giving. It is essential to your well-being.

And yet…making a change means choosing something different. And when you choose something new, it means letting go of what has been.

This can feel like letting go of a part of yourself. And no matter how exciting the change is, releasing the old can be really, really hard.

Today I want to talk about the grief that is inherent in change work. The grief that exists along with the excitement and inspiration.

Changing and evolving includes grieving…it’s part of the process. If this seems like a weird idea, it’s because we don’t think of grief as an everyday emotion.

When you were a kid and your favorite toy broke, did your caregiver hold you, console you, and let you cry, wail, and sob over your loss? Or did they promise you a new toy right away, or tell you to stop crying, or maybe try to distract you with something else?

We think of grief as something that happens to us when we lose someone close, or when there’s a tragedy in our lives.

But I think grief is a part of daily living. It’s a part of growing, evolving, and expressing yourself truthfully.

I grew up knowing something about grief. I felt it when a beloved pet or grandparent died. In these situations the emotions of grief were acknowledged and encouraged by my parents.

Grief was something big and serious and reserved for big losses. And by losses, I mean external losses…the deaths of people or animals or big opportunities missed.

Grief wasn’t part of the conversation of personal growth.

Let’s look at it this way:

Right now, you have a way you express yourself. Your identity may include a job or career, your personal habits, the things you care about, the things you spend your time doing, your family, friends, and more.

Your identity may include your gender. It may include a spiritual or religious outlook. Or a political outlook. You may express yourself through fashion or tattoos or your passion for a sport.

To be human is to express yourself through choices. When you decide it’s time to change something - whether it’s seemingly small, like your hairstyle, or bigger, like your career - embracing the new means letting go of the old. And letting go of the old means releasing your old identity.

If I’ve had long hair for 30 years and decide to cut it short, I release the identity of myself with long hair. If I decide to leave academia after 30 years to start my own business, I’m letting go of the ‘me’ that was part of an institution.

Releasing the old can feel good and liberating. But it can also feel scary. And sometimes it feels sad.

When I left my career as a concert pianist, I felt all kinds of feelings. There was the relief of releasing something that didn’t feel engaging anymore. There was the relief of not having to fake interest at concerts. There was the relief of not having to override my own wishes.

But to be honest, there was also a huge sense of loss. I didn’t realize how much I enjoyed my identity as a musician until I stopped identifying as a full-time musician.

Because I’d spent 30 years becoming a concert pianist, that identity was well-established. My identity brought me prestigious performing opportunities and a university teaching job.

And though I was by no means a household name, my identity brought me recognition and respect from a certain group of people.

When I was in my 20s and striving to become a performer, people saw me as a starving artist. In my late 30s and 40s, people saw me as a successful, established artist.

I’d worked hard for that identity and recognition.

Leaving performing felt like taking off all of my clothes and walking down the street fully exposed.

When I played my last concert at Symphony Center in Chicago, just before my move to Colorado, I drove home sobbing and heartbroken. Those symphony concerts had been part of my life for two decades. They were a big part of my development as an artist. They were a big part of my identity. They brought me a lot of joy AND a lot of anxiety.

I was willing to let it all go, because the change felt deeply right for me.

But just because a change feels right doesn’t mean it won’t hurt to release the old.

I’ll admit, I’m still in the process of grieving my old identity as a musician. I still teach piano and music, but don't perform all that much any more. And I’m OK with that.

These days, I spend a lot of time writing and thinking and podcasting and coaching. That is the new version of me that feels deeply RIGHT. It feels fascinating and exciting and inspiring. And even my piano lessons are a kind of life coaching through the medium of the piano.

Being a coach and a thinker is who I am. It feels like a relief to live it on the outside.

But sometimes when I sit down and play some Bach or Schubert, my heart feels a tug of sadness for the version of me that would spend six hours a day immersed in music. She is still a part of me. And I don’t have that grief figured out.

I wish I had a succinct, polished process for addressing change grief. But I don’t. I can only reach out in solidarity and let you know I feel it too.

Grieving your past self is part of the process of humaning and evolving and changing. Feeling loss and sadness isn’t wrong. It’s supposed to be there.

I humbly speak from my own experience when I say, allow it. Feel it. It’s going to come up from time to time. Create space for it. Nurture it. Let yourself know that it’s OK.

A wise person once told me that the depth of grief you feel for something lost is equal to the depth of love you felt for what you lost.

The sadness you feel for the version of yourself that you left behind is just the flip side of all of the love you put into it. Let it be. Because feeling the grief allows you to move on to the new version of yourself in a clean way.

It allows you to flow all of your love and inspiration into creating what’s new.

It’s taken me time to learn this.

Grief is so normal, so human. Nothing’s wrong. Feel the grief and the love for all that you have been. It’s still a part of you.

Want to talk with me? Click here to schedule a free connection call. And for more juicy life stuff, check out my podcast, coming home (to yourself). As always, may your week be filled with self-love and rich insights. With love, Amy ♡♡♡