When we speak about healing, many of us still imagine the same things:
childhood wounds, big traumas, diagnoses (our own or family members), or personal pathology.

Those matter.
But they are not the whole picture.

When healing is narrowed to only those experiences, we miss something important.

Healing is also about the losses we’re told are “just life.”

Losing a job, for example.
Or retiring.
Not only the work or the income is gone, but the people we shared our days with.
The colleagues who made everyday life livable.
Maybe even made us look forward to next workday.
The jokes.
The laughter.
The shared mornings and goodbyes.

For many people, especially men who may not have wide friendship circles outside of work,
that loss is profound.
And it is rarely named as grief.

After the job ends, loneliness often begins.
And when grief has no permission to exist, it doesn’t disappear.
It turns into anger, resentment, withdrawal, or numbness.

The same is true for other transitions we tend to minimize.

Leaving a class or workplace after many years together,
sometimes close to a decade, is a real ending.
These moments need better goodbyes,
more time, more care than we usually allow.

A family member receiving a diagnosis can shock the nervous system deeply.
Even when everything later turns out well,
the fear and uncertainty can leave traces in the body.

Many things we don’t call “wounds” are exactly that for many people.

This understanding doesn’t weaken healing.
It makes it more accurate.

Healing isn’t only about dramatic events or early-life stories.
It’s also about endings, transitions, belonging that has been lost, and fear that had nowhere to land.

And it’s important to be clear about something else too:

This is not about telling people what they should feel.

It’s not saying,
“Everyone needs to grieve these things.”

It’s saying,
“Many people do, and it’s okay if you’re one of them.”

That distinction matters.

This is an invitation, not a diagnosis.

Some people will respond with:
“That’s just life.”
“People should toughen up.”

Often, those responses come from places where grief was never given space either.

Healing begins when we widen what we allow to matter.
When we stop ranking pain.
When we recognize that ordinary losses
can shape a life just as deeply as extraordinary ones.

Not everything that hurts leaves a visible scar.
But it still asks to be acknowledged.

When We Widen
What Healing Means

Share Your Insights and Thoughts

If you feel called to contribute your own experiences, reflections, or visions for a more compassionate world, we welcome you to share them here.
Your words may light the way for others on their journey.​