Being Realistic With Myself While Going Through Grief and Trauma, Boy Is It Hard!

I used to think I knew what strength looked like. I thought it meant pushing through, staying positive, keeping it together no matter what. But when all this grief and trauma entered my life over and over, those old definitions shattered. Suddenly, I was face to face with a version of myself I barely recognized — tired, confused, emotional, and, honestly, lost.

I’ve learned (and am still learning) that being realistic with myself in times like these is one of the kindest things I can do for myself.

Accepting That I’m Not the Same Person Anymore

Grief changes you. Trauma changes you. I kept waiting for the day I’d “get back to normal,” but that day has not come — and eventually, I realized it wasn’t supposed to. The truth is, I’m not the same person I was before everything happened. I carry things differently now. Some days, I carry them heavier than others.

Being realistic with myself means letting go of the idea that I’ll ever be exactly who I was. It means understanding that healing doesn’t erase what happened — it reshapes it into parts of who I am now.

Letting Go of Old Expectations

In the beginning, I’d get so frustrated with myself. Why couldn’t I focus? Why can’t I remember things? Why don’t I have energy? Why did even the simplest tasks feel impossible? I compared myself constantly to the “me” before it all fell apart.

But grief is exhausting — emotionally, mentally, physically. I had to learn that my capability would look different, and that was okay. Being realistic meant acknowledging that sometimes “barely getting by” is enough.

Giving Myself Permission to Feel Everything

There were days I laughed, then felt guilty for laughing. Especially laughing about something he would love…and looking over to not see him there laughing. Days I couldn’t cry, then felt guilty for not crying. Crying about my daughter, losing my husband, or about losing my leg. Then I’d get angry and infuriated about them all. Grief is weird like that — unpredictable, messy, sometimes illogical.

I’ve stopped trying to control how I feel and started just letting myself feel. Whatever shows up, I try to let it be there without judgment. When I feel my emotions building up during the day, I will use Exposure Therapy to release my emotions purposely. That’s what being realistic looks like for me now — accepting that there’s no “right” way to grieve.

Slowing Down the Urge to “Move On”

People mean well when they tell you to “stay strong” or “move forward,” but healing doesn’t work on a schedule. I used to think I needed to rush through the pain, but it only came back stronger.

Now, I remind myself that it’s okay to take my time. Some wounds take a long while to stop aching, some never stop — and that’s not failure, that’s life.

Asking for Help (and Letting That Be Okay)

One of the hardest lessons for me has been learning that I don’t have to do this alone. Being independent and strong can sometimes backfire. I used to feel guilty reaching out, like I was burdening people.

But being realistic means acknowledging that I need support sometimes. Whether it’s family, a friend, a therapist, or a quiet moment with myself, I’m learning to lean instead of isolate.

Finding Meaning in Small Wins

There are still days that feel like mountains. But I’ve started to recognize the victories in small things — getting out of bed, taking a shower, doing something outside, or simply breathing through a hard moment without falling apart.

These things matter. They’re reminders that I’m still here (thanks to my husband), still trying, still healing, still trying to make the best I can out of the life I was given, still trying to make a difference.

Final Thoughts

Being realistic with myself during this grief and trauma isn’t about giving up or lowering my standards — it’s about being honest with where I am. It’s about saying, “This is what I can handle today,” and letting that be enough.

I will never be the same person I was before, but maybe that’s not the goal anymore. Maybe the goal is learning to live honestly, gently, and bravely — even in this aftermath.