soft boundaries, quiet goodbyes

19 - grieving without anger, and healing without answers.

Is it just me… or do you feel it too?

I’ve been thinking lately about the relationships we don’t always talk about.. The ones that end without a bang, without closure, without explanation. The ones that shaped us in ways we can’t always name, and that still linger in our thoughts when we least expect it. This newsletter is about that space. That grief. That letting go. I hope it meets you gently.

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There’s something quite jarring about losing someone you once knew deeply — whether it be a friend, a partner, or even a colleague. One day you’re tangled in each other’s lives, knowing every detail about them, swapping stories, reading their moods like a second language. The next, radio silence.

No goodbye. No closure. Just absence.

What I find strange — and honestly kind of sad — is how easily people can vanish from our lives without any real explanation. And whether the choice was ours or not, the only thing we are left with is fragments. A memory triggered by a song. An old photo that catches us off guard. Not always out of longing necessarily, but out of curiosity: Did any of it matter to them, too?

Sometimes it hurts because there was never a real ending. No explanation, no apology, no proper letting go.. Just silence. And other times, we’re the ones who made the choice to step away.. Either because we were being disrespected, or the dynamic became toxic, or we needed to save ourselves. And still, the grief can feel confusing. You can still reflect on beautiful moments together and know that you’re better off without them.

Some relationships are meant to be brief.. They teach us something, then pass through us. Others require a boundary we didn’t want to set in the first place, but had to, for our own wellbeing. And still, even when we know it was the right choice, the emotional residue can linger. Especially when the ending was unclear, or the person didn’t have the courage to meet us in the mess. I’ve come to learn that it’s okay to wonder, to grieve, to feel that strange space where closeness used to live.

Letting go is an act of self-preservation, but it doesn’t always feel empowering. Sometimes it just feels… Quiet, lonely and unresolved.

This kind of emotional weight contributes to burnout in a way we don’t often name. Holding resentment, replaying conversations, carrying guilt or confusion — it can all take a toll. And when you’re already running on fumes, trying to heal or simplify your life, that extra emotional noise can sometimes feel unbearable. Especially if there may be feelings of anger, because anger takes up A LOT of energy within our bodies, (maybe I’ll do an entire newsletter on this in the future)..

One of the ways I’ve softened this noise though, is by getting clearer about my boundaries. Who gets access to my energy? Who has earned the right to my vulnerability? It’s not about holding a grudge, it’s about protecting my healing. That can look like walking away without a dramatic exit. It can look like not responding (and I don’t mean giving them the silent treatment!). It can often look like saying, “I’m open to a mature conversation if you ever want one, but until then, I need distance.”

It’s okay to let people go without villainizing them. It’s okay to feel sad about the loss even if it was your decision. That doesn’t make you weak — it makes you human.

Here are a few things that have helped me navigate this kind of grief when it shows up:

• You don’t need closure to move on: Most of the time, you won’t get it. The story can end without that final page.. And by the way, isn’t it way more powerful to create your own new and exciting beginning?
  

• Missing someone doesn’t mean you made the wrong choice: You can miss the version of them you loved, and still know they were never meant to stay.
  

• You’re allowed to set boundaries without an apology: Especially when your nervous system is telling you something’s not right.
  

• Grief isn’t just for death: It’s also for change, for growth, and for the things that could have been. It’s not just the person you will mourn either, it’s also the version of you that existed alongside them.
  

• Write the goodbye you never got: Don’t send it, just let it live somewhere so you can experience some catharsis from letting it all out.
  

• Take breaks from re-triggering spaces: This could look like getting off of socials, or not returning to places that feel emotionally loaded.
  

• You can wish someone well and still not choose to let them back in: Kindness and self-protection can coexist.
  

• Letting go is an act of hope: Hope that your energy is better spent elsewhere. Hope that you’re making space for something and/or someone that is more aligned with you.
  

• Focus on people who choose you: The ones who show up, ask how you’re doing, and stay curious about your life — build with them.
  

• Absence doesn’t erase impact: If someone mattered to you, they mattered. Even if the ending was messy.
  

I’ll leave you with this:

Every once in a while, you’re allowed to feel a subtle sting of what’s no longer there and you can still choose to move forward. You’re allowed to wonder if they think of you too, and also know that it doesn’t change your decision. Some people enter our orbits to teach us something. Others show us what we will no longer accept.

Either way, it all counts.