your personal fml: overcoming

Grief is Devastating

I was talking with Ed (the Coffee Guy) after our last podcast recording, and he brought up a story about someone he met last week. This person had suffered an incredible loss when his father was stabbed to death right in front of him on the night of the birth of his first child. The depth of his despair was profound and extremely damaging, and it would be understandable if he never came out of it. But he did, eventually.

Loss has a way of reshaping us. Sometimes it arrives suddenly, other times slowly, but it always leaves a mark. When I went through my own seasons of losses, and there were many (loss of parents 8 days apart, loss of a business, being kicked out of a church, , and some too personal to share right now) I found myself caught between wanting to move forward and being afraid of leaving something—or someone—behind.

Ed has his own seasons of loss so when Ed and I were talking about the man who tragically lost his Dad and how he was handling it fifteen years later, it was comforting to know that we had the same take on it. Overcoming loss isn’t about forgetting. It’s about finding a way to live with it, and letting it shape you without consuming you.

Acknowledging the Reality of Loss

One of the hardest parts of grief is simply admitting it’s real. We often want to minimize our pain, compare it to someone else’s, or pretend we’re fine. I tried that, but it only pushed the hurt deeper. The truth is: loss takes many forms. It can be the death of someone we love, the end of a relationship, or even the quiet grief of a dream that never worked out. Recognizing the weight of it is the first step in carrying it.

When we talk about the first version of FML (Fuck My Life), it's the isolation, the despair and the loneliness that comes from this loss, whatever it is. Don’t downplay your loss. Naming it honestly is the start of healing and moving to FML2 (Fix My Life).

The Process of Grieving

People often talk about “stages of grief” as if they happen in order. In my experience, they loop around like a storm. One day I felt acceptance; the next, I was angry or overwhelmed again. I still feel the pain of things that happened almost twenty years ago. Grief isn’t neat. It’s messy, unpredictable, and it's personal.

I come from an era that celebrated the ignorance of feelings and discounted the severity of the accompanying pain. In the case of Ed's friend, that suppression led to a broken marriage, alcoholism, near death and devastating depression for several years after.

How grief manifests itself is different for all of us. There’s no right timeline or process. Give yourself permission to grieve in waves, without judgment.

Healthy Ways to Cope

Ed's friend chose one of the most destructive ways to cope. In fact, I'd argue that it wasn't coping, it was hiding. That hiding led to even more destructive outcomes. Healthy coping however leads to healthy healing, and Ed's friend luckily figured that out before it was too late. Here are some healthy ways to cope and heal.

• Expression: Writing can became a lifeline. Some days it's just scattered words, but it can be enough to release what is hard to say aloud.

• Connection: Leaning on a small circle of friends can make a difference. Just sitting in silence with someone who understands is powerful.

• Self-care: Simple things—exercising, eating properly, trying to sleep—matters considerably.

• Professional support: Therapy helps to give language and understanding for feelings that are complex and unrecognizable.

Ed's new friend goes on walks when his emotions get out of whack, sometimes jined by his son. Which is a great way to handle things, but what struck Ed and I was his other coping mechanism which was his willingness to share his experience and talk about it. Ed didn't ask his new friend about his past. This new friend just came out and told him. It's how Ed and I got into this conversation. Why would he do that?

Two things come to mind. Ed's new friend does not fear judgement anymore. He's freed himself to open up and if someone cares, he has a new friend. If someone doesn't, fuck 'em. How freeing is that? The other thing is that it allows the new friend to recount and package the devastation for easier handling.

Ed had a great analogy. We hold our devastations in a box. That box is always on the shelf and periodically we need to go and check in on that box. The more we do it, the easier it is to handle it. Gotta say, our Ed is a pretty smart feller.

The new friend found his way to handle his loss. It may not be the way for you, but try different outlets and supports. What works for one person may not work for another.

Finding Meaning After Loss

And this is FML3 (Find My Life). Eventually, Ed's friend began to see that his loss could lead to something more than pain. For him, it became a deeper sense of self and a renewed commitment to family. For me it was a deeper sense of empathy and a renewed commitment to creativity. Others I know have honored loved ones by starting charities, creating art, or mentoring others. The point isn’t to erase grief but to give it form and purpose.

Look for ways your experience can connect you to others or inspire something meaningful.

Moving Forward (Not Moving On)

I used to think healing meant leaving the past behind. Now I know it means carrying the memory differently. Overcoming loss is about weaving it into your story, not erasing it. In time, the weight doesn’t disappear—but your strength grows.

Ed's friend figured this out. He's back with his wife and his relationship with his son is powerful. Is it tough still? Absolutely, but they have discovered a way to be stronger and healthier.

You don’t “move on.” You move forward with what you’ve gained and lost, both shaping who you are becoming.

Closing Reflection

Loss teaches us that life is fragile and precious. It humbles us and opens us to compassion. If you’re in the middle of grief, know this: you don’t have to have it all figured out right now. Just take the next step, however small. Healing isn’t about speed. It’s about presence, patience, and the quiet courage to keep going.

Written by Bill Waters

August 2025