Honoring the Truth of Grieving What Hurt You
There is a moment in WandaVision where Vision turns to Wanda, tender, steady, anchored, and offers her words that land like a small earthquake: "But what is grief, if not love persevering?"
A truth so simple, yet so expansive, it lives in the body long after the scene ends.
I felt that line in my stomach first, then in my chest, then somewhere deep behind my ribs. A soft whew escaped my mouth before I even realized I was breathing again. I didn't know how much judgment I had been holding against myself for remembering the good moments—the ones that carried warmth, connection, and laughter—right alongside the pain.
That moment taught me something essential about healing from relationships that held both love and harm.
As humans, we often silence this tenderness. We tell ourselves that if something hurt us, we should erase the whole story. But the heart doesn't work that way. Memory doesn't work that way. The body certainly doesn't work that way.
The Complexity We Don't Talk About
One thing that isn't commonly spoken of in matters of breakups and dissolved relationships, especially those rooted in abuse and harm cycles, is the complexity of the recovery process.
We are taught to sort people and experiences into binaries: good or bad, safe or unsafe, worthy or unworthy. This is a survival response, one many of us learned early to protect ourselves. But in healing, the binary becomes a cage.
When we force ourselves to put someone entirely in the "bad" box, we often shut down parts of our own humanity. We armor up. We tighten. We become hypervigilant, constantly scanning for confirmation bias. Or we disconnect completely, becoming aloof, shut down, disengaging and dismissing.
And in that process, something else gets cut off too: the heart's right to grieve.
We may believe it isn't safe or appropriate to mourn the good parts, the happy memories. This act hardens the heart. When we silence or cut off the heart's truth, we cut ourselves off from grief, from allowing it to be expressed and released from the body.
But grief isn't an endorsement of harm. It isn't longing for what wounded you. It isn't weakness.
Grief is simply the body telling the truth. It is the release of what was lost, the mourning of the parts of you that loved, hoped, trusted, or dreamed.
When the Heart Awakens
When you let grief surface, slowly, gently, in waves, you make room for an awakened heart. A heart that remembers its softness. A heart capable of compassion, especially for yourself.
When we allow ourselves to feel into the full experience, grief can be expressed and released. When the heart awakens and love becomes activated, compassion becomes accessible. Compassion to give to yourself, to nourish yourself in the recovery process.
This kind of awakening brings clarity. It brings forgiveness, not of the harm, but of your own humanity. It brings acceptance of what was, so you can move toward what will be.
This is prosperity work. When you allow your heart to grieve and soften, you create the inner spaciousness that lets abundance, joy, and connection flow back into your life.
Your permission to grieve is medicine. It heals the spirit from the inside out.
Riding the Waves
Grief rarely comes in a straight line. It moves like water. Waves of memory rise, sometimes warm, sometimes aching, and the body responds.
When a pleasant memory washes up now, I let myself ride it. I meet it with a soft, "Thank you for visiting." I remind myself: this moment belongs to the past. I don't have to judge myself for remembering it, maybe even with a laugh or a smile, instead of holding myself in contempt for the body's normal biological process.
Then another wave might rise: grief, longing, sadness. And I ride that, too. I breathe through it. I whisper to my body, "You have permission. It's okay."
Sometimes my eyes swell and spill over. Salt water becomes the cleansing. Tears become prayer. Release becomes spaciousness, expanding the heart.
You Have Permission
You too have permission to grieve.
You can grieve the loss of a relationship and know you don't want that relationship, or anything resembling it, ever again.
You can honor the good memories and still choose yourself.
You can allow the waves to come without making meaning about your strength, your worth, or where you stand in your healing.
The compassionate acceptance and expression of your grief helps you tap into your personal power rooted in love. Compassion is the medicine. Self-tenderness is the teacher. Grief is the portal that brings you back to presence. Compassion rides in the wave with surrendering, without fighting. Fighting is the body attacking itself.
When grief moves through you, it creates space. Space for breath. For clarity. For joy. For the return of love, not necessarily for the one who hurt you, but for life, for connection, for yourself.
When you release the energy of grief, it allows for presence. It allows for joy. You're able to share your love with others.
When you are no longer stuck in your pain, love can move through you again.
What are you giving yourself permission to grieve today?
If this resonates with you...
Grief work is prosperity work. When you allow your heart to soften and release what you've been holding, you create space for abundance, joy, and deeper connection to flow into your life.
If you're ready to explore this work more deeply, I invite you to join the Whole with Joy community where we gather for healing, reflection, and collective liberation. You can also book a Prosperity Clarity Session to explore what's possible when you honor the full truth of your story.
Let's connect. Your healing matters.