The Gentle Possibilities of Life After a Shattering Moment

September 23rd – In the quiet after. 

Sometimes life changes in an instant. There's the moment before, and then the moment after. And nothing feels the same anymore.

When life splits in two

Psychologists sometimes describe trauma as an event that divides our timeline: before it happened and after it happened. It can feel as if the old life was taken away, and we are left to navigate an unfamiliar landscape where the landmarks no longer look the same.

This division is not "dramatic thinking" – it is how our nervous system records overwhelming events. The body remembers. When something shatters our sense of safety, the brain anchors the memory deeply, marking it as a turning point. It becomes a reference point against which everything else is measured: before I knew this pain and after I had to carry it. 

The longing for "before"

In the beginning, the after feels heavy. We might long for the time when things felt ordinary, untouched, lighter. This longing is natural, it is the nervous system's attempt to restore balance and familiarity, a pull back toward what once felt safe.

But the truth is, we cannot return to the before. That door has been closed, sometimes quietly, sometimes with a slam. What remains is the tender work of learning to live in the after, even when it feels unfamiliar and raw.

And please remember: it is completely valid to grieve and to miss the life that once was. You are allowed to carry that sorrow for as long as it needs to be there. Healing does not mean forcing yourself to "get over it." It means allowing grief to move through you until, little by little, it softens its edges. Only then can the after begin to grow into something that feels inhabitable.

The hidden potential of the after

Trauma researchers speak of post-traumatic growth – the idea that out of shattering events, people can sometimes grow in unexpected directions:

• Deeper relationships

• A greater appreciation for life

• New priorities and values

• A gentler way of listening to themselves and others

This doesn't mean the pain disappears or that the trauma was "worth it." It means that within the after, there can be seeds of transformation.

But these seeds don't sprout on command. Growth is never about forcing yourself to move on quickly or to "find the silver lining." It unfolds in its own time, often only after you have been allowed to fully grieve what was lost. The sorrow makes space for the new to emerge — not instead of it, but alongside it. 

Living this truth myself

I am not writing these words from a distance. I am in the middle of navigating my own after.

There are days when I still ache for the before. I catch glimpses of missing the old life – the ease, the safety, the simplicity. At times the grief of what was lost feels heavy, almost unbearable.

And yet, in quieter moments, I begin to notice something else. Small signs of possibility. Softer ways of listening. Tiny sparks of connection and resilience I might not have noticed before.

It feels as though I am holding both grief and gratitude in the same hands. The ache of longing and the tender hope of becoming — both are here, both are real. And even though this process can feel achingly painful at times, there is a deeper knowing inside me that things will eventually ease and unfold in their own way. I don't know how or when, but I trust that gentler days will come.

Gentle steps for living in the after

1. Honor your nervous system
   If your body feels restless, heavy, or easily startled – it is not weakness. It is your nervous system doing its best to protect you. Breathe, rest, and allow it to settle without judgment.

2. Lean into safe connections
   Healing happens in relationships. A trusted friend, a therapist, or even a pet can remind you that you are not alone. Safety grows stronger when shared.

3. Create small rituals of stability
   Morning tea, journaling, or a walk at the same time each day can anchor you. Tiny rituals tell your body: the world is still here, and I am safe in it.

4. Allow meaning to emerge slowly
   Don't force yourself to "find the lesson." Growth often appears in hindsight, like soft green shoots after winter. Give it time.

The after may never feel like the before. But it can become something else: a softer, wiser, more grounded chapter of your story.

How about you — have you ever experienced a moment that divided your life into a before and an after? I'd love to hear your reflections. Come join the gentle conversation on Instagram @selflavie, where I also share more slow living and self-love notes. 💌

Soft hugs,
Selflavie