Why You Need To Grieve The Life You Never Got To Live 💔

Why You Need To Grieve The Life You Never Got To Live 💔 Imagine standing in a room where every single dream you ever had is laid out on a silver platter, but the catch is that the platter belongs to the person standing right next to you.

There is a specific kind of exhaustion that comes from chasing a ghost. It is the ghost of the version of you that had the perfect childhood, the version that didn't have to deal with a chronic illness, or the version that didn't grow up in an orphanage while everyone else was opening Christmas presents. We are told by every "hustle culture" guru and "manifestation" expert that if we just work harder, think more positively, or reframe our trauma, we can eventually reach that elusive happy ending. But what if the most healing thing you could ever do is simply stop? What if the path to peace isn't through more effort, but through the brutal, honest process of grieving the life you didn't get?

The core principle is that life is not fair, it is balanced. This means that while some people are born with "maxed out luck stats," others are dealt a hand that feels like a constant uphill battle. For those who grew up in survival mode, the nervous system becomes so completely frazzled that the default strategy becomes isolation and retraction. You see an opportunity to travel or take a risk, but you stay small because you are already operating at capacity just trying to exist.

This creates a cycle of dissatisfaction and shame. You see a friend get a promotion or a "lucky" break and, while you want to be happy for them, your internal world is spinning. You feel broken because you are dysregulated by their success. You feel like a "hairless primate" with no agency, watching non-transferable gifts from the universe fall into the laps of people who might not even value them. This is where my book, "The NPC Versus The Universe" concept comes in. We feel like the background character fighting a fate that was decided before we even pressed "start."

The turning point happens when we realize that grief isn't just for when someone passes away. Grief is the process of seeking acceptance when a reality we care about changes irrevocably or, in this case, never existed at all. We have to build "grief skills" to mourn the childhood where we didn't feel safe, the parents who were too busy with their own lives to put a medal around our necks, and the missed opportunities that slipped through our fingers because we were too busy trying to survive.

Many of us avoid this space because it feels like a bottomless pit. We think that if we start crying for the child we used to be, we will never stop. So, we keep the hustle going. We find a new hobby, a new job, or a new "hope" to act as a salve for that internal pain. But these are just distractions. When you finally sit in the space of "I did not get the life I wanted," something miraculous happens. The weight lifts.

Acceptance doesn't mean you like the cards you were dealt. It just means you stop trying to trade them in for a deck that isn't in the room. When you reach that state of grounded stability, your motivations change. You might find that the hobbies you’ve been obsessed with for years suddenly lose their appeal because you no longer need them to numb the pain. You stop chasing the "victory condition" and start noticing the beauty in the life that is actually in front of you.

It is a heavy process, and it is definitely not for everyone. But for the people who have been living on a treadmill of "what ifs," this is the permission slip to finally get off. You are allowed to be sad that it didn't turn out the way you hoped. You are allowed to resent the unfairness of luck. But once you process that data, you get to be free. You get to rest. You get to be the person you needed when you were in your darkest times.

The life you dreamed of is gone, but the one you’re in is finally ready for you to show up.

🧠 Mental Health vs. Evangelical Bullies: Why Science AND Faith Matter ✨

 🧠 Mental Health vs. Evangelical Bullies: Why Science AND Faith Matter ✨ Let’s get one thing straight: if you’re still out here saying mental health isn’t real, you’re basically trying to argue with physics, chemistry, and centuries of medical science and spoiler alert, you will lose that debate every single time.

Mental health has always existed, but for centuries people didn’t have the language, education, or acceptance to recognize it. Instead, anyone who acted differently was labeled in the worst ways, dismissed, or shamed. Fast forward to today, and we now have psychology, research-based therapies, and actual doctors who can explain why the brain sometimes needs care just like the body does. That should be progress worth celebrating, right? Unfortunately, some people still don’t get it.

Let’s talk about a group I call “evangelical bullies.” These are not everyday people of faith, and this is not an attack on religion. This is specifically about those individuals who stand on platforms, online or offline, and declare that mental health struggles only happen because you “don’t pray enough” or “don’t believe hard enough.” To be blunt, that’s not just inaccurate, it’s harmful, outdated, and logically inconsistent.

Here’s the problem with that mindset: it completely ignores science. As someone who grew up fascinated by science and chemistry experiments, physics equations, the whole nerd package. I know firsthand that research, data, and experiments matter. You can’t just wish away biology. A pill prescribed for depression or anxiety isn’t a random candy. It’s the product of decades of rigorous testing, double-blind trials, and peer-reviewed studies that prove its effects on the brain. To say it doesn’t matter is like saying gravity stops working if you pray hard enough. Spoiler again: it doesn’t.

Now let’s be clear, I’m not saying every doctor or psychologist is perfect. Just like in any profession, there are good ones and there are bad ones. Some might push medication like it’s a vending machine business model, and that’s not okay. But dismissing the entire field of psychology because of a few bad actors is just as absurd as dismissing all teachers because you had one who gave too much homework. It’s lazy thinking, and it hurts real people who need help.

This is where my perspective gets interesting. Even though I love science, I also grew up in a religious environment. I was raised in a Catholic orphanage, surrounded by nuns, and I asked every tough question I could think of. I never just accepted answers blindly. Over the years, I balanced my skepticism with my faith, and eventually, I found that both can exist together. Yes, I’ve had personal experiences that shaped my belief in prayer, but that doesn’t mean I throw science out the window. In fact, my faith became stronger because I researched its history, questioned its foundations, and built my convictions on evidence rather than just words.

So imagine my frustration when people weaponize faith to shame others about their mental health. Let’s break this down with logic. If a newborn baby is born with a cognitive or developmental condition, does that mean the baby didn’t “pray enough”? That’s obviously ridiculous. If a dedicated churchgoer experiences depression, despite serving faithfully every week, does that mean their prayers don’t count? Again, that logic collapses on itself. Mental health challenges are not proof of weak faith. They’re part of the human experience, influenced by genetics, environment, trauma, and biology.

The irony is that faith and science don’t actually have to be enemies here. They can work together. Prayer can provide comfort, hope, and resilience, but you also need food, rest, therapy, and sometimes medication. If prayer alone solved everything, no one would ever need glasses, surgeries, or antibiotics. You wouldn’t get braces, you wouldn’t take vitamins, and hospitals wouldn’t exist. Clearly, we know better.

What frustrates me is when so-called “evangelical bullies” target people who are already suffering. Telling someone with depression or anxiety that their struggles are their fault for not being holy enough is cruel, not compassionate. It doesn’t align with the values of kindness or understanding that most religions actually teach. And let’s not forget that science has proven again and again that shame makes recovery harder, not easier. Encouragement, support, and access to care do the opposite.

There’s another layer here: privilege. Some people have strong support systems of having a family who understands, access to therapy, financial stability, and a community that listens. Others don’t. Imagine telling someone who grew up without resources, without a safe home, without any encouragement, that all they needed was “stronger faith.” It ignores their reality, their context, and their lived experience. Mental health doesn’t happen in a vacuum.

That’s why I’m such a strong advocate for bridging both sides: respect science, and respect faith, but don’t use one as a weapon to erase the other. If you’re someone who prays, keep praying, but also book that therapy session if you need it. If you take medication, don’t feel guilty about it. If you find strength in both, even better. That balance is where true resilience lives.

And to anyone still holding onto the idea that mental health isn’t real: explain why the world’s top universities like Harvard and Yale offer psychology programs. Are they just making it up? Dozens of Nobel Prize winners in medicine and psychology would like to have a word. Science doesn’t waste centuries studying something imaginary.

So let’s put an end to the stigma. Let’s stop labeling people as weak or unfaithful when they’re actually fighting some of the hardest battles a human can face. Let’s acknowledge that mental health is as real as a broken bone, and both deserve compassion, treatment, and understanding.

Because here’s the truth: ignoring mental health doesn’t make it disappear. Pretending it’s not there doesn’t heal anyone. But acknowledging it, supporting people through it, and using every resource available like science, medicine, faith, community, that’s how we actually change lives.

So the next time someone tries to dismiss mental health as “not real,” ask them if they also think gravity is optional. Watch how fast the conversation gets quiet.