There are so many things we can lose:
– A job
– An opportunity
– Our home
– Our health
– A relationship
– A dream
– A loved one
– Ourselves
But we don’t group them all together and think about ‘our losses’. We’d prefer to think they are one-offs, exceptions to the rule. We want to hope like crazy that our last loss will be exactly that – our last loss. But that’s not how this works.
Types of loss
Many of us have experienced a life-altering loss, the most ‘straightforward’ form of loss. A loss that hits us directly and painfully. But loss comes in many forms, with different qualities and characteristics. And this is where it can get a little more complicated.
Some losses don’t have clear endings. Researcher Pauline Boss calls this ambiguous loss. The baby you tried for years to have. The relationship you fought hard to save but still couldn’t. The parent whose body is right there across from you, but their mind has gone somewhere you can’t reach. These losses leave you hanging. How do you grieve something that was never fully there or never fully gone?
Then there is what I call anticipated loss – events you see coming from far away, but they still knock you flat. The empty nest. Retirement. Even the merciful end of a loved one’s suffering. You think being prepared will make it easier. Sometimes yes, sometimes no.
Second-hand loss is when you haven’t experienced the loss directly but are still deeply affected by it. When your spouse loses their best friend. When a coworker loses their job, while you keep yours. This view from the sidelines can bring on guilt or shame, with questions like “why them and not me?” or “why am I so upset when I’m not directly affected?”
We’ve all been part of collective loss, when our social circles, communities, or nations are impacted by a tragedy. Think 9/11 in New York and DC, Grenfell Tower in London, the Australian wildfires, the global pandemic. Our connections sustain and support us in good times, and we grieve together when loss is shared.
And sometimes loss shows up as the price of something good – these are bittersweet losses. You get your dream job but have to move away from your best friend. You finally leave that loveless marriage but miss being part of a couple. These losses come wrapped in relief and guilt all mixed together. I love how Susan Cain frames it in her book Bittersweet – we’re constantly holding joy and sorrow at the same time. That’s not confusion, that’s being human.
TAKE STOCK: Can you reflect on a recent loss and ask yourself which category it fell into?
How loss behaves
I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about how loss actually works. Not just from my own experience, but from watching friends, reading books, studying the science, exploring the philosophers, and paying attention to the real-life patterns of loss in everyday living.
Here’s what I found:
Loss is inevitable. It’s going to happen to you, to me, to every person I’ve ever met. It’s not a matter of if, it’s a matter of when. And it’s not just going to happen once.
Loss is cyclical. It has its own rhythm. Sometimes you’re in a peaceful stretch, sometimes you’re getting hit hard. You’re not losing all the time. It ebbs and flows.
Loss is unpredictable. It sneaks up on you. Sure, some losses we see coming from a long way away, but most are unplanned and unexpected. But even when we do expect it, how we actually feel about it can still blindside us.
And here’s the odd one: loss is universal. I say odd because every single time we lose something, we feel completely alone in that loss. Like we’re the only person experiencing it. But actually? We’re sharing this common outcome of being human with everyone who’s ever lived.
Loss = change
“I just want things to get back to normal.” This universal plea echoes through hospital waiting rooms, law-firm conference rooms, and single seats at the local bar. But loss functions less like a detour (after which we return to our original route) and more like a fork in the road – sending us in a new direction. We have to make way for a new normal.
While our loss is creating a change in our environment – a new family structure, neighborhood, or commute to work – it also creates a change in us. Neurologist Dr. Lisa Shulman taught me something fascinating – loss literally rewires our brains. We form new neural connections in order to compensate for the shake-up, to deal with the change. Our brain is wired to adapt.
So our go-to fear – that loss only makes us less than – is not the entire story. When we navigate it consciously, amid the pain, loss can also bring additional kinds of change. Perspective to our life we couldn’t have received any other way. Deeper empathy, clearer priorities, greater appreciation for what remains, and, sometimes, a purpose we never imagined finding.
Not because of some saccharine ‘everything happens for a reason’ platitude, but because humans possess what researcher Dr. Ann Masten refers to as ‘ordinary magic’ – our natural ability to adapt. Masten’s research shows this isn’t some rare gift. It’s a capacity we all have that blooms when we have the right support. In her Grawemeyer Awards acceptance speech she said, “Resilience doesn’t depend on special qualities but on a capacity to adapt that we develop over time as we are nurtured, learn, and gain experience.”
Thinking back to a recent loss, have you been able to return to normal afterwards? What if anything has changed most for you?
Understanding some of these truths about loss doesn’t magically eliminate the pain. Knowledge alone doesn’t heal us. But it does provide something essential that can help: context for our experience, language to discuss it, and a foundation for dealing with it.
By zooming out and looking at loss through this lens – from a neutral perspective – we can start to question our beliefs about loss.
Excerpt from Do Loss: A new way to move through change by Sue Deagle
Do Books, $15.95. Published March 3rd, 2026
Find it on Amazon.com and Bookshop.org
