There are times when loss can feel like death.

When a relationship ends, when a job disappears, when something foundational in our life shifts, it can feel as though the world we knew has collapsed. In a very real sense, something has died. The life we imagined, the future we expected, the identity we carried - it all changed and ended. 

For some, the pain of these moments is so overwhelming that they begin to believe the only way to end the suffering is to end their life. 

We must never underestimate what brings some people to that point. We are not living their life, and we do not know their full history, which is why compassion requires humility. We cannot truly know the emotional weight that someone else is carrying. 

Along with compassion, we must also say this clearly: when someone feels suicide is the only option, it is usually because they have run out of hope, not because there are no options. Pain can narrow the imagination and convince us that the present moment will last forever. 

Grief is its own journey. Many people move through anger, bargaining, sadness, and confusion. These stages, first named by Elisabeth Kübler-Ross, are not a rigid formula, but they describe something real. We wrestle with understanding. We replay what might have been. This is very normal.

At the same time, those who walk with the grieving are quietly watching for something else: not that grief disappears quickly, but that it continues to move. Healthy grief shifts, even if that happens slowly. When someone becomes trapped in cycles of despair or self-harm, it is not a moral failure - it is a sign that they need more support. 

At Divine Infinity, we invite people to grieve inside a larger story. Not necessarily a religious one, but one that is bigger than the immediate pain. We speak of an unconditionally loving reality, God/the Holy, as a way of saying you are not alone in the universe. 

In the moments when no friend is present, maybe therapy has ended for the week, or the night feels long, we hope people sense that they are being held. Sometimes, when everything feels unbearable, deciding to rest and even sleep is the best self-care we can give ourselves. We do not have to resolve our lives at 2 am. 

From my own experience, I have also learned something important. When thoughts of death have brushed against me, they have often signalled that something is ending. Not my physical life, but an identity, a chapter, a story I was telling about myself. Something has died internally. 

I have come to see these moments as psychological thresholds. The feeling of “I cannot go on” means, “I will not go on as I have been.” That’s different and signals something has been shifting in my emotional and psychological landscape. It’s a sign of growth and healing. 

Transformation can often feel like annihilation, and when I notice that darkness creeping in, I quietly remind myself that tomorrow holds new experiences and opportunities I cannot see yet. My story is not finished simply because today hurts. 

If you are reading this and the pain feels unbearable, please do not carry it alone. Reach out to a friend, a therapist, a crisis line, a spiritual caregiver - even God. There is no shame in asking for help. None.

Grief is real. Loss is real. Despair can be real. So is the possibility that what has ended is a turning point. We all deserve the chance to discover what comes next. 

The Book of Liberty was written to invite people into a deeper story of feeling loved and supported. You can read it for free on our website here.