Grief Is Not a Detour: Navigating Loss and Identity Shifts with Chronic Illness

Grief comes in many forms. And a new sense of self often emerges because of it while other aspects fall away. 

Entrepreneur, executive, homeowner, parent, wife, community member, lover, athlete…words that once felt like anchors can feel more like a ghost during times of loss. 

And that haunting feeling becomes a daily reminder of how fragile words can be when we lean on them to define who we are.

It goes without saying that these shifts are activating. The stress of grieving what could have been, what once was, and what is currently happening is enough to make anyone’s head spin. 

But when you have a chronic condition where each day already feels like a game of 4D chess, grief amplifies things even further. 

It can put you into a weird duality where numbness intersects with pain. For many, the stress is enough to make new symptoms suddenly pop up as you try to navigate a “new normal” (whatever the f*ck that means).

We all go through varying levels of grief as we navigate this wonderful, confusing, challenging life. 

And for me? Grief has sunk its teeth into my system over and over again in different ways, disrupting what I thought I knew to be true. Recently, I’ve felt it pulsing through my veins, reconfiguring who I am. 

So I figured, why not write about it? Because I know I’m not alone.

I’m just going to come out and say it. 2025 was one of the most difficult years I’ve ever experienced and that’s saying a lot given my track record. I completely lost myself in the process of what I was going through and spiraled. I hurt others because of my actions. I lost people I deeply cared about. I forgot who I was and my body responded by doing what it does best: it fought back. 

The problem was…the thing my body was fighting while I was grieving was me.

Flare-ups abounded, mentally and physically. Anxiety flew through the roof. New symptoms emerged unexpectedly. Things I never thought would happen did. 

I tried to pull from my usual toolbox of coping tactics for when my chronic conditions make life more challenging, but quickly found that toolbox had been smashed to bits. 

What had worked for ages was no longer available to me or no longer “did the trick”.  And frankly, that sucked.

The more I tried to scrape things back together, the more I realized it was all in vain because each form of grief requires its own unique approach. It’s never going to fit neatly into a box like you desperately want it to. It’s messy, nonlinear, and painful. Resisting those facts only leads to more broken tools and frustrating moments.

(And as someone who comes from a long line of mechanics, I know firsthand that having the wrong tool for the job or worse, a broken tool, is a major waste of time.)

So what do you do when your world feels as split apart as your insides? 

How can you navigate the complexities and dread that comes from knowing things will never be the same? More importantly, how can you realign yourself so your chronic conditions don’t compound while you put the pieces back together?

I can’t say I have the answers and Lord knows I will never offer medical advice, but as a professional storyteller, I’ll give you some glimpses into my process and the process of others. (Note: these are tactics to consider, not hard and fast rules.)

1. Fostering moments of joy consistently

Several of my firm’s clients do this INCREDIBLY well. 

But instead of giving you a laundry list of ideas on this front, I’m going to offer you a question I ask many of them: what’s one small thing that made you feel lighter this week? Not smile, not laugh. Something that helped you feel a little more breath. A smirk. A sense of pause. A momentary relief from your symptoms. For one client who is dealing with a complex medical diagnosis, it looks like thrifting nostalgic items and toys. For another, it looks like reading a line in good book. And for another, it looks like seeing her dog wag her tail as she comes in the door. It doesn’t have to be big. It just has to be something. After all, even when things are dark, there are always glimpses of light.

2. Doing something physical

Moving while grieving can feel like a monumental task AND a wicked huge win. 

Take one of my dear friends who recently lost her father. She is a successful executive, MBA student at a prestigious institution, startup founder, women’s health advocate, and all around badass. She is one of the most diligent people I know, but the grief has created waves that have rocked her stability. The other night, we both agreed that taking small steps getting back into a workout routine might help flow through our mutual storms and find some grounding. Even though she might not be able to show up every day the way she wants to (and same with me), she’s keeping herself accountable and trying her best. In my case, I recently took up rock climbing to combat the “mean lady in my head” who amplifies my grief-stricken thoughts. 

Scaling a wall requires a unique sense of self that forces me into the present. Moving your body in some way, whether it’s dancing, stretching, weightlifting, shaking things out while crying…whatever your body craves, lean into it and let it out. It helps.

3. Trying new healing modalities

Again, not medical advice, but more of a “new toolbox” thing. A friend who lost a job chatted with me once about how her migraines had started flaring up because of the stress. Sure, her rescue medicine was helping from time to time, but during the in-between moments? The anticipation of waiting for the next migraine to hit while also waiting for that “magical new job offer” was a lot to handle. It kept compounding into a vicious cycle. She admittedly was anti-anything “New Age” but found that trying reiki during this time period offered her relief in ways she didn’t expect. Sometimes the best thing you can do is try something new, ya know?

4. “Cocooning with intention”

As a self-appointed introvert who can mask as extrovert (no, my dear reader, I am NOT an ambivert), my natural inclination is to be Alone when things get tough. 

However, a colleague has totally reframed this for me. Being alone when you’re #GoingThroughIt can actually be a bad thing if you don’t have some structure around it. This friend I have is going through a ton of medical issues and needs to rest regularly. She’s also amazingly ambitious, so she’s approaching this period with a level of intention I admire on so many levels. Writing a press release, but wearing fuzzy socks while doing it. Waking up to go to a tough medical appointment, then cuddling with her bunny to recoup afterwards. Creating micro routines while also setting aside “sad time” to process. Don’t get me wrong. Wallowing is normal, but getting swallowed up by it is not helpful in the long run. This colleague has emulated this time and time again. I hope I can do the same.

5. Trust your gut and take care of it.

Let’s be real. Grief messes with your gut health and appetite. When your flight-or-fight mechanism is activated, the last thing you think is “huh, I wonder if my gut microbiome is in check?” No, if you’re anything like me, you crave the sweet relief of a jar of Nutella, even if you know damn well it might create a flareup. 

The comfort of certain foods may have a short-term benefit, but long-term impacts. There are certainly other people who can speak more in-depth about the gut-brain axis, but what I can say is that the food you eat needs to be nourishing and needs to be simple. For me? This looks like having a hearty, easy-to-pull-together soup in a crockpot that I can dig into for a couple days when getting off the couch feels like a huge task. Keeping things as simple as possible has been a godsend as I’ve navigated the emotional turmoil of grief and identity shifts. I highly encourage you to do the same and to lean on those who have expertise in this particular area. Because, honestly? Nothing is worse than feeling the waves of grief while also navigating the challenges of GI upset. I’ll leave it at that.

6. Surrounding yourself with people who “get it”

Now, there will come a point where you have to interact with the world. But what I’ve personally found is that even when in-person interactions feel like a lot more than I can handle, parasocial relationships can be a “bandaid fix” for social interaction. 

In my case, LinkedIn has become a bit of a refuge. (Work has always been a big part of my life, so, naturally, this tracks). 

That being said, I’m not talking about those performative “I’m pleased to announce…” folks. I mean people like Ashley Amber Sava. Nick Power. Evante Daniels. Jayde Powell. Lily Stairs. Justine Beauregard. People who REALLY tell it like it is, who remind me of what it means to think, to feel, to laugh, to reflect without spiraling. As I navigate this new sense of grief and sense of who I am, surrounding myself with people, on and offline, who I can categorize as “no B.S.” helps me reframe how I move forward.

So here’s your “too long, didn’t read” moment:

With the state of the world pushing many people to the edge, we need to take care of ourselves AND each other more than ever. 

I will admit that the grief may not fade. In fact, it may settle into your bones for a lifetime and your sense of self might need to be fully overhauled. Hell, you may even need to switch up medical protocols, which we all know sucks.

But you will make it through. 

Even if your body is internally screaming louder than anything you’ve experienced before. 

Even if it feels like too much to bear, I promise you will make it through. 

We all will. We just need some new toolboxes, tactics, and community to make that happen.

So if you need a good cry. If you need someone to help you through these tough times, look to your peers. Look to your fellow Chronic Bosses and know that people out there have your back. 

We are all experiencing grief in various forms, but we don’t have to navigate it all by ourselves.

Who we are is not just a grief-stricken ball of tears or the encapsulation of certain descriptive nouns. We are so much more than that. The right support can make that much clearer as we forge ahead.