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“Trying to heal while trying to grieve… while trying to love… while trying to forgive… While still trying to find my joy…” That’s the kind of sentence that makes you want to sink into the couch and not move for a week. That checklist of emotional tasks isn’t a list for one year; that’s a decade of work that you’re trying to squeeze into a Tuesday afternoon. I know what you’re thinking. You look around and see other people who seem to have their stuff together—the solid relationship, the 401k hitting—and you feel like you’re standing in the middle of a collapsing Jenga tower, desperately trying to hold up blocks labeled Childhood Trauma, Grief, and Student Loans.
I’ve been there. I remember when I was dipping my toes into counseling work, trying to help others manage stress while trying to end a long-term engagement gracefully and launch a big side project. My Jenga blocks were labeled: Professional Competence, Relationship Grief, and Financial Disaster. I felt like I was running three full-time jobs, and only one was paid. I tried to handle everything at once, spending my days talking about cognitive behavioral therapy and coming home to crash. I was so emotionally porous that I didn’t know where my client’s issues ended and mine began. I was trying to heal my own broken heart while offering perspective to others, and honestly, it was a mess.
The truth is, your feeling of being split and overwhelmed is not a sign of weakness. It’s a sign that you are doing the work. Most people try to sweep these blocks under the rug, which leads to huge trauma responses later. You are acknowledging them, picking them up, and trying to handle them with care. The goal isn’t to make the load disappear overnight; the goal is to figure out which block needs your attention today so the whole structure doesn’t tumble down. This isn’t weakness; this is strategy.
We call this a Jenga tower for a reason: you have to know which block you’re pulling out. Let’s define the blocks because most people confuse them. First, Grieving. When people hear “grief,” they think of death, but one of the heaviest blocks is grief for a future you never had—the loss of a relationship you invested five years into, or the career path you ditched. This is disenfranchised grief, the silent sorrow that chips away at your ability to focus. Grieving is passive; it requires patience to feel the pain. Second, Healing. This is the work of rewriting the code. It asks, “Why did I choose that? Why do I attract emotionally unavailable people?” Healing is active; it’s reading peer-reviewed articles on attachment theory and changing your default trauma responses.
Then there is the Loving/Forgiving block. This is the one everyone scrambles for too soon. I would argue that trying to love while you are still deep in the grieving phase is how people end up dating red flags—you’re looking for an emotional band-aid, not a healthy partnership. Trying to forgive before you’ve done any healing means sweeping the issue under the rug, which leads to resentment. These blocks require space. They are the result of successful Grief and Healing work, not tasks you can force at the start. When you feel overwhelmed, stop and ask: “Is this feeling requiring me to simply feel it (Grief), or is it requiring me to change a pattern (Healing)?”
Here is the humble truth: you cannot successfully move all four blocks—Grief, Healing, Love, and Forgiveness—at the exact same time. It’s like trying to calculate complex economic theory while writing a novel. The result is messy. If you try to offer forgiveness or new love (pouring) while you’re actively grieving (cracked), the energy just seeps out, and you end up feeling drained. That’s why dating while unhealed often results in attracting people who confirm your worst fears. I remember thinking I was “ready” to date after a professional setback. I was dating a great person, but I was terrible for her because my energy was focused on processing my failure. I was simping for myself, expecting her to be my therapist.
Since you are running a massive emotional load, you need to treat these tasks like professional projects. You wouldn’t try to budget your life savings while writing a legal brief; don’t do it with your feelings. Treat it like a schedule. Block 1 is Grief Time: dedicate 20 minutes to process the loss. Block 2 is Healing Time: actively read, journal, or seek therapy. Only once you’ve successfully managed these for a sustained period can you tentatively start testing the waters for Loving and Forgiving. We have to be strategic. The emotional world follows the laws of energy. You only have so much. Spend it wisely.
The hardest thing about this work is that the external world keeps demanding you be “fine.” To protect your progress, you have to master the art of the boundary. A boundary isn’t a wall; it’s a statement that says, “I can only operate here right now.” If a new dating partner pushes for commitment too fast, say this: “I want to be honest: I’m carrying a lot of history right now, and I’m actively working through some major emotional stuff. I need us to move at a pace that allows me to feel secure and not overwhelmed.” If a well-meaning friend pressures you to “just be happy,” say: “I appreciate you wanting me to feel better, but for today, I’m just allowing myself to feel the grief. What I need from you right now is just to listen.”
A word on the heaviest block: Forgiveness. When you try to “forgive” someone who hurt you, you might think you have to let them back into your life. That is absolutely not true. Forgiveness is for you—it’s dropping the poison. Reconciliation is for them—it’s welcoming them back, which requires them to have done the work. You can forgive for your own peace while simultaneously saying, “I forgive you, and for my own mental health, I need us to maintain distance.” True kindness involves being kind to your future self by protecting your peace today.
Finally, what about Joy? The truth is, joy isn’t something you find under a couch cushion. It’s something you build back, piece by piece. You can’t put the heavy block of Joy on top of a wobbly foundation of un-grieved sadness. Instead, aim for contentment. For me, rediscovering joy meant going back to basics—my passion for history, cooking a good meal, and redefining a “successful day” as one where I kept my integrity. That deep, quiet satisfaction is a sustainable kind of joy. If you’re struggling with the Healing block, get professional help. Don’t be too proud to get a therapist; think of it like hiring a personal trainer for your soul. You’re not weak for juggling these massive emotional tasks—you are strong for acknowledging them. Start strategically removing one unstable block at a time. The tower will still stand, and eventually, you’ll be able to build something much stronger on top of it.
