Sometimes grief takes your sense of direction.
The person who tethered you to the world is gone and everything feels unanchored.
You don’t know who you are now.
You don’t know where to go.
You don’t even know what you’re supposed to want.

This isn’t you being broken.
This is what it looks like when love leaves a crater and life tries to go on.

You are allowed to feel unmoored.
You are allowed to not know.

Journal Prompt

If you want to write, here’s a gentle place to begin

Where do I feel most lost right now, in my identity, my routine, my relationships, my purpose?
If I wrote a letter to the version of me before, what would I say?

What does “home” mean to me now?

Gentle Ritual

If writing feels too much, try something with your hands

The Re Mapping Practice (3–5 minutes)

1. Take a blank piece of paper.

2. Draw a small circle in the center. Write “Me” inside it; just as you are today.

3. Around it, add anything that’s still here: your breath, your dog, the sun, a cup of tea, someone who texts you back.

4. Whisper:

“I may be lost, but I am not gone. I still exist, and I’m finding my way.”

This is not about solving. It’s about reminding yourself: you’re still here.

Optional: Try This

Or just walk with me for a minute. No pressure, just presence

The Landmark Walk

Go somewhere familiar or imagine it.
Place your feet on the ground and say out loud:

“I don’t know where I’m going,
but I know I’m still here.”

You don’t need a destination.
Just one step.

Please Remember

You haven’t failed.
You haven’t disappeared.
You’re in-between and that’s okay.

Being lost is part of the path.
You’re not alone in the fog.