The Healing You Cannot Do Alone
Why hope often begins when we allow others to carry our pain
Last week I wrote about my marriage to John and the difficult decision to end it after seventeen years.
Many people assumed that once I finally left, I would feel relieved.
They were right.
What no one—including me—anticipated was that relief and grief can exist at exactly the same time.
I had spent years longing for emotional freedom. I believed that once I walked out the door, the hardest part would be behind me.
Instead, it was the beginning of an entirely different journey.
John and Julia were spending a few weeks at his family’s cottage on Torch Lake in Michigan when I moved out.
I intentionally waited until they were gone. I wanted to spare Julia the pain of watching our home come apart one box at a time.
My dear housekeeper, Carmela, helped me pack.
I’ll never forget standing in the kitchen together, tears quietly filling both of our eyes as we decided which dishes, silverware, and glasses would come with me.
For reasons I still don’t understand, I had also volunteered to bake a birthday cake for my fourteen-year-old godson that same afternoon.
At the time, I still believed I was capable of doing everything.
I wasn’t.
The lump in my throat was so constant I could barely eat.
Looking back, I realize that was grief introducing itself.
By evening we had unpacked most of the boxes into my new rental house.
The bedrooms looked fine.
The kitchen looked fine.
But the large living room and dining room stood completely empty because we had left all the furniture behind.
Those empty rooms felt strangely familiar.
I had a gaping hole inside me too.
The weeks passed.
Julia divided her time between two homes.
Like so many children of divorce, she tried to make sense of a situation she never asked for.
John was grieving.
I was grieving.
And somehow we both tried to make life feel normal.
We rented extra movies.
Went shopping.
Stopped for Oreo Blizzards at Dairy Queen.
Parents often work incredibly hard to protect their children from pain.
Sometimes all we can really do is walk through it together.
One Friday night became one of the most meaningful moments of that entire year.
Friday nights were the hardest.
Julia and I were at the video store in Coppell picking out movies and candy.
The young cashier looked at me and quietly asked,
“Are you okay, ma’am?”
I answered honestly.
“Not really. We’re going through a divorce.”
Without hesitation he smiled gently and said,
“My parents got divorced too. We were all a mess for the first year...but I can tell you something.”
“We’re all much happier now.”
Those simple words became one of the greatest gifts anyone gave me that year.
He wasn’t trying to fix me.
He wasn’t explaining away my pain.
He simply handed me hope.
Sometimes hope arrives from the most unexpected people.
Then Thanksgiving came.
Julia was with John.
I spent the holiday completely alone.
If you’ve ever experienced deep grief, let me offer one piece of advice.
Please don’t spend major holidays alone.
Volunteer.
Invite yourself to a friend’s table.
Host dinner.
Tell someone you need company.
Anything.
That Thanksgiving remains one of the loneliest days of my life.
My only companion was my chocolate Lab curled beside me as we watched the National Dog Show all afternoon.
I don’t think I’ve watched it since.
The memories are simply too vivid.
By Monday morning I was desperate.
During a coaching call, one of my longtime clients asked how Thanksgiving had been.
When I told her the truth, she said something that quietly changed my life.
“I went through DivorceCare after my divorce. Why don’t you go tonight?”
That evening I walked into my first meeting.
The room was filled with people who looked exactly like I felt.
Sad.
Anxious.
Confused.
Exhausted.
Every week we watched a short teaching, then gathered in small groups.
People cried.
Some were angry.
Some were terrified.
Some barely spoke.
No one tried to fix anyone.
We simply carried one another.
Monday nights became my lifeline.
Every Monday morning I woke up with hope because I knew I would spend the evening with people who understood.
People who didn’t need explanations.
People who didn’t expect me to “be over it.”
Healing wasn’t happening because someone gave me better advice.
Healing happened because I stopped grieving alone.
One of my favorite quotes from Henry Cloud says,
“God designed our tear ducts right in our eyes so our pain can be seen, which fosters vital human connection and brain healing.”— Henry Cloud
I’ve never forgotten those words.
Whether or not you share my faith, I believe they express something profoundly human.
We were never designed to carry life’s greatest losses by ourselves.
Research consistently tells us that relationships are among the strongest predictors of resilience after loss.
Scripture says it beautifully:
“Though one may be overpowered, two can defend themselves. A cord of three strands is not quickly broken.” — Ecclesiastes 4:12
Whether your loss is a divorce, the death of someone you love, the loss of a dream, a career, your health, or a relationship that mattered deeply...
Don’t isolate.
Find your people.
Healing almost always begins there.
Leadership Reflection
Every person eventually experiences loss.
Sometimes it’s obvious.
Sometimes it’s invisible.
What loss are you carrying right now?
Have you allowed anyone to carry it with you?
Strength isn’t pretending you’re okay.
Strength is having the courage to let trusted people remind you that you won’t always feel this way.
🔒 Paid Subscriber Resource
Every month I create a practical leadership and personal growth tool exclusively for paid subscribers. My hope is that these resources become part of your personal library—guides you return to whenever life or leadership presents a new challenge.
This month’s resource: The Elaine Morris Grief Reflection & Healing Guide™
The downloadable workbook begins below.
The Elaine Morris Grief Reflection & Healing Guide™
Healing isn’t about “getting over” a loss.
It’s about learning how to carry it in a way that allows you to love, lead, and live fully again.
This month’s workbook includes:
A personal inventory of past and present losses.
Reflection questions about how your family taught (or didn’t teach) you to grieve.
Insights from neuroscience on why relationships play such a vital role in healing.
Leadership applications for navigating loss in yourself and those you lead.
Practical exercises you can begin using this week.
I encourage you not to rush through these pages.
Instead, consider completing one section each day over the next week, allowing yourself the time and space to reflect honestly.
Note to readers: If you are unable to download the workbook, email me at elaine@elainemorris.com and I will email it to you directly.
