The Twofold Effect of Grief: Pain and Change

The Twofold Effect of Grief: Pain and Change I recently read an article that said grief has a twofold effect—it hurts, and it changes you. Nothing could be truer. The pain is relentless, and I can feel it reshaping me in ways I can’t control. I see myself changing, losing motivation, slipping into a version of myself I don’t quite recognize. But what can I do? The weight of it is all-consuming. Sana struggled with anxiety from a young age. I remember it clearly—22 years ago, when we were living in Singapore. She had trouble sleeping, and the anxiety it triggered was overwhelming. She would toss and turn, growing more frustrated by the minute. Back then, I didn’t fully understand what she was going through. I would tell her, It’s okay, just watch some TV or read a book—you’ll eventually fall asleep. I thought it was a passing phase, something she could work through. Now, I resonate with every sleepless night she endured. I lie awake, staring at the ceiling, my mind racing, my body restless. No amount of TV, books, or distractions can quiet the storm. Anxiety feels like being trapped in a dark tunnel with no way out, your heart pounding, your breath shallow. It makes you react in ways that feel irrational—but the fear, the dread, is very real. In many ways, anxiety is more exhausting than depression. It’s relentless, gnawing at you from the inside. By the end of the day, you feel as if you’ve been swimming against the tide, struggling to stay afloat. And yet, so many people dismiss it—as if it’s just in your head, as if it’s a weakness rather than a battle. I feel heightened anxiety now more than ever before. And through it all, I think of Sana—how she lived with this every single day. A part of me carries guilt because I didn’t understand the depth of her struggle sooner. If only I had known then what I know now. To every parent out there—please don’t dismiss your child’s anxiety as a passing phase, a millennial fad, or something they will simply grow out of. It is real. It is intense. It is debilitating. Be their safe space. Acknowledge their pain. Support them before the weight of it becomes too much to bear. I only wish I had done more.