You still share a home.

You still share a life. Meals. The rhythms of daily existence.

But the person sitting across from you isn't the person you married. Illness or injury changed that. And the relationship you had disappeared even though they're still right there.

There is a long stretch of adulthood devoted to building.

Building a career.
Building stability.
Building relationships and something that feels secure.

For some women, that includes raising children. For others, it may mean caring for aging parents, building a business, investing deeply in a partnership, or showing up every day for those who depend on you.

As a therapist, I often witness the intricate dance of relationships—how they support us, stretch us, and sometimes, how they hurt us. It’s a quiet kind of grief. One that often gets minimized or overlooked, even though it cuts just as deep.