15/10/2025
Grief integration stories - with text2talk 🫶 🔗 in comments
Hey Nicole,
I’m not really sure where to start.... Everything feels like it’s come apart since my relationship ended. Ten years is a long time to share your life with someone, and now it’s just so dam quiet every day. I feel so lost....
I keep replaying things in my head — all the years I was working away from home, thinking I was doing the right thing. I just wanted to give us a good life. But being gone so much took a toll on her, I see that now. The resentment built slowly, like rust you don’t see until it’s eaten through the metal of your car.
She told me she’d met someone at the gym — not physically involved yet, just emotional, she said. But that almost hurts more. To know she found comfort in someone else while I was out trying to support us… it cuts so deep.
Part of me is angry — at her, at myself, at the choices I made. Another part just wishes I could go back and fix it, be home more, listen more. She asked me to find another job once, and I brushed it off. Now I can’t stop wondering if that was the moment things started to fall apart.
I feel gutted, empty, like I’m mourning not just her but the life we built together. Sleep’s hard. Food doesn’t taste like much. Everything feels heavy.
Mostly, I just wish things were different. I wish our love didn’t fade under the weight of my bloody good intentions.... I'm lost, please help!
— J
-------------------🌹---------------------🌹------
Hi J,
Thank you for sharing all of this with me. I can feel the weight of what you’re carrying, and I want to pause to honour that first. Ten years is a long time to build a life with someone, and to have that change so deeply is heartbreaking.💔 It’s completely understandable that you feel lost, gutted, and uncertain about what life looks like now.
Grief doesn’t only arrive when someone dies — it appears in endings, in the unraveling of shared dreams, and in the quiet ache of what might have been. Every feeling — sadness, anger, regret, confusion — belongs. We only grieve what we love, so clearly you loved deeply...
You’ve been carrying so much for so long. Working away from home, protecting and providing for the life you both imagined, only to discover your partner turned elsewhere for emotional connection — that’s an immense emotional load. It makes sense that your heart feels pulled in opposite directions: anger and empathy, betrayal and self-blame. These aren’t contradictions; they’re the many voices of grief, each asking to be met with compassion. 🌱💓🌸
I can hear the ache in your “what ifs” and “if onlys.” It’s natural to replay moments and wonder if things might have been different. That’s your mind trying to make sense of something senseless. When you can, try to meet those thoughts gently — not as accusations, but as part of understanding yourself more deeply. You did what you could with what you knew and had. That truth still stands.
You’re grieving not only your partner, but the world you both built — the routines, laughter, and shared meaning that shaped your days. Please remember that love doesn’t end when the relationship does; it changes form. Over time, you may find new ways to stay connected to what was real — perhaps through memories, music, photos, or small acts that still carry that thread of love. Honouring that doesn’t trap you in the past; it helps your heart integrate what was real so you can truly grieve in a healthy way.
Right now, allowing yourself to feel is an act of courage. Let the tears come. Breathe through the tension. Notice how your body holds your grief — the heaviness in your chest, the ache in your stomach, the restlessness in your hands. Try to soften around those sensations, even for a moment. Each breath is a quiet reminder that you’re still here, still surviving. You will find a way through this and though there will be ups and downs — we will help you find happiness again in time.
Small grounding gestures can help in the moment — a hand over your heart, noticing your steady breathing, stepping outside to feel air on your skin — can help your nervous system remember safety amidst the storm. Focusing on getting as much sleep as you can, nourishment, and gentle movement can be great anchors that remind your body it’s allowed to rest and repair.
There’s no timeline for this. Grief ebbs and flows like weather — some days you’ll feel more anchored, others will take you by surprise. The goal isn’t to move on, but to move forward, carrying what was meaningful in a gentler way.
J, it takes bravery to speak this truth out loud. Sometimes healing begins the moment our story is witnessed without judgment — and I see you. I truly feel the sorrow between your words, and I’m so sorry you’re walking through this. 💔
When you feel ready, we can begin exploring gentle ways to rebuild your sense of self — through connection, small acts of care, or rediscovering what brings you a flicker of peace. You don’t need to rush it. I’ll be here, walking alongside you as you find your footing again.
Remember — grief is the echo of love. Over time, that echo softens, making room for new light to enter. For now, take it one breath, one feeling, one day at a time. You’re doing the best you can in a very hard season — and that is enough.
Let’s touch base again soon if that feels helpful.
With warmth,
Nicole 💞
Grief Support Practitioner
Text2Talk
