Life transitions often bring unexpected emotional waves and little grief that arises when our lives change.
Dear Jennifer,
I’m leaving my job of 20 years on Friday and can’t stop the emotional roller coaster. One minute I’m in tears, the next I’m angry, then I’m nostalgic and crying again. Little things set me off. Yesterday I fell apart when I walked into the breakroom and, once again, changed the water cooler because the last person who used it didn’t do it. I felt unreasonably irritated and very grateful that I won’t have this job anymore, after years of somehow, unluckily being the person who lugs the heavy bottle into position. A few minutes later, I was in tears because I realized that I was walking into my office for one of the last times. Help?
Roller Coaster Rider
Dear Roller Coaster Rider,
Good-byes are difficult, aren’t they, fellow traveler? I have been there and ridden the exact roller coaster you are describing.
Yes, dear one, your roller coaster sounds like grief. Grief isn’t clean. It doesn’t follow predictable patterns, and it often creates the exact experience you describe. Sometimes grief appears in teary final conversations with a beloved colleague or relative. Other times it arises as irritation about water bottles and toilet seats being left up.
When we move on from places or times that have been meaningful, emotions often arise in ways that feel unpredictable and overwhelming. Over time, I have come to appreciate that these emotional waves are often signs that something mattered deeply — and that letting go is hard.
Let me tell you a story.
The Superhero Swing Set
Circa 2011, I purchased a swing set for our backyard when my sons were toddlers. I remember carefully choosing each component — the bright yellow slide, the rope climbing wall, the explorer’s telescope, the green dragon that the boys could ride together until they exceeded 120 pounds, and the traditional swing next to it for me.
It will grow with them, the salesman assured me.
He was correct.
We spent hours playing on that swing set after dinner. Underneath the fort, at the built-in picnic table, we ate countless meals and celebrated birthdays. As they grew older, the swing set became a battleground fortress for costumed superheroes who fought for justice alongside their mighty sidekicks (our dogs Allie, Izzy, and Nala) and protected our home from evil villains.
Never once did the villains win.
Later, the fort became a base for Nerf battles as the boys and their friends created increasingly elaborate games. Sometimes the swing offered a quiet retreat when a moment of gentle movement helped soothe a discomforted soul.
One afternoon in 2021, while working from home, I heard the unmistakable sound of a chainsaw in the backyard.
I knew immediately what was happening.
The mighty fort fell onto the picnic table below as the beam that once held the swings was cut down piece by piece.
And something inside of me ached.
After my call ended, I took a moment to sit and take everything in. I acknowledged that Angel, Giovanni, and their sidekicks no longer defend our home from evil villains after dinner. Now they use that time to complete homework and connect with friends on their iPads. After years of dedicated service, the swing set was leaning, the wood was splintering, and it posed a safety hazard.
Even with compelling reasons to tear it down, it still hurt to watch it fall.
As I watched the swing set come down, I felt one era of family life end and the next one begin. It was hard to look away as the grief settled in.
So, I didn’t.
Instead, I sat with the grief, wiped away tears, and remembered the superheroes and loyal sidekicks who loved us wholeheartedly and selflessly until their journeys ended. Later that evening, I helped support Giovanni through his grief about the swing set and what a special part of childhood it represented to him. He went to bed in tears because grief moments — both big and small — can hurt in places Band-Aids and hugs can’t quite reach.
The following morning, he came downstairs and said, “I think I know what we should do with the swing set space.”
He outlined a plan that would create room for the next round of family adventures.
We were ready to embrace a new beginning and say good-bye to the swing set era.
But first, we had to grieve and let go.
Little Grief Moments
Back to you, Roller Coaster Rider.
Leaving a job after twenty years can feel a lot like watching a beloved swing set come down.
Life manuals don’t always prepare us for these quieter grief moments that arise as we shift from one life chapter to another. These experiences can seem minor compared to losses that more clearly mark our timelines, such as the death of a loved one, the end of a relationship, or an unexpected job loss.
Yet little grief moments are often surprisingly powerful.
They can arrive when:
- a long chapter ends
- a meaningful role changes
- a familiar routine disappears
- a place that once felt like home no longer fits
- we realize that time has quietly moved forward while we were busy living our lives
Little grief moments give us an achy pause as we recognize that something meaningful has shifted.
What once felt central to daily life may no longer belong in the next chapter.
It can be tempting to push through these moments, minimize their significance, or laugh them off.
But our emotional systems tend to recognize meaning before our thinking minds catch up.
Grief often appears in everyday clothing.
Everything Has an Expiration Date
Everything has an expiration date, dear one.
Relationships, jobs, innocence, shoes, bodies, cars, childhoods, medicines, swing sets, milk in the refrigerator, beloved pets.
Some endings feel simple.
Others squeeze our hearts in ways that leave quiet marks on the inside of our lives.
Grief — whether big or little — hurts.
And it also reminds us that something mattered.
Adjusting to a New Chapter
What do I know for sure, Roller Coaster Rider?
Life includes both little grief and big grief moments. Sometimes we wonder whether we will ever be okay again.
And somehow, we move through them.
We cry.
We laugh.
We feel irritated by small inconveniences.
We feel grateful for meaningful connections.
We question our decisions.
We remember what mattered.
Eventually, the emotional waves begin to settle.
We adjust to a new normal.
My children turn sixteen in a few weeks. The swing set era has been closed for several years, and I no longer find myself surprised by its absence. After-dinner hours now include homework, activities, and time with friends. We have new devoted sidekicks who missed the swing set era entirely.
That was a beautiful chapter.
It laid a solid foundation for the one we are living now.
As Sally Field’s character says at the end of Steel Magnolias,
“That’s how it should be. Life goes on.”
Even so, it can feel tender when we are in the middle of picking up our teary feet and stepping forward.
Be patient with the roller coaster, dear one.
Celebrate the moments that bring laughter.
Honor the tears when they come.
Notice the irritation that arises over small inconveniences — sometimes those reactions are simply grief wearing everyday clothing, offering small distractions from our sadness.
And most importantly, remember:
You are not riding this roller coaster alone.
Across the world, countless fellow travelers are navigating endings, beginnings, and the messy, tender moments and big sighs of the middles.
Perhaps you have a trusted sidekick nearby to sit with you and help you face the villains that occasionally appear along the path.
Ubuntu, fellow traveler.
Jennifer
P.S. If you are interested in exploring this topic a bit more, scroll down and check out the Rest.Reflect.Reimagine exercise.
If you are experiencing bigger grief moments and would like some additional support, you may find comfort in these reflections:
How to Find Courage When Your Life Falls Apart
Attribution note
A version of the swing set story was originally published as “The Swing Set” in the Rawson Saunders School newsletter. That version is the intellectual property of the school. The story has been thoughtfully revised and adapted for Still River Counseling, PLLC.
This reflection was first published on the Still River Counseling website and later shared here on Substack. The website version may include expanded exercises, visuals, or additional context.
Rest. Reflect. Reimagine.
A gentle exercise for navigating little grief moments during life transitions
Sometimes change asks us to hold feelings that don’t seem like natural fits, like gratitude and sadness.
Little grief moments often arrive quietly and can be difficult to recognize because they are disguised as irritation, nostalgia, fatigue, boredom, or unexpected tears or anger.
As humans, we understand intellectually that change is inevitable…yet the emotional impact is difficult. If something in this reflection resonated with you, consider giving yourself permission to slow down and explore what little grief moments may be arising as your life changes.
When we make space for whatever arises, moving through the little grief moments often feels a bit easier.
No pressure.
No right answers.
Just curiosity and self-compassion.
Rest
Take one slow breath.
Then another.
Allow yourself a moment to simply acknowledge that most transitions — even the ones we choose — stir complex emotions.
Consider some gentle self-reflection questions.
• What feels like it is ending or changing in my life right now?
• What emotions arise when I think about this transition?
• Where do I notice these feelings in my body?
• What feels uncertain and unfamiliar right now?
Give yourself permission to not have it figured out yet.
Just notice what is present.
Reflect
Little grief gives us an opportunity to honor what has been special and mattered to us.
Some gentle self-reflection questions:
What will I carry from this life chapter?
What parts of this experience influenced who I am today?
What memories or moments feel especially meaningful?
Are there any parts that I feel ready to release?
Are there any parts that are difficult to release?
What feels hopeful at the same time?
Transitions often hold both gratitude and sadness.
There is space for both. Your hands are strong enough to hold them.
Reimagine
Everything has an expiration date. Sometimes we are ready for it, other times it sneaks up on us.
Some gentle self-reflection questions:
• What are my hopes for this next chapter?
• What wisdom did I gain from this chapter that may help guide me later?
• What strengths helped me reach this point?
• Who are the sidekicks or supports I can lean on right now?
• If I feel overwhelmed, what coping strategies could help me find a safe step forward?
Remember: You do not need to have everything figured out.
As Rilke advised in Letters to a Young Poet, live the questions and trust that the answers will reveal themselves in time.
A Gentle Reminder, fellow travelers.
Little grief is still grief. It causes us to pause and usually brings big feelings. Even when we feel ready for the change, it often means saying good-bye to something that mattered. And good-byes often hurt our hearts and cause achy sighs.
If your roller coaster feels especially intense, reaching out for support can help steady the ride.
You do not have to navigate meaningful change alone. Find your sidekicks to bring you joy and companionship and your sages whose wisdom can give you direction when you feel lost or uncertain.
Ubuntu, fellow traveler.
© 2026 Jennifer Ayres, PhD | Still River Counseling, PLLC
Written with care for fellow travelers navigating life’s changing currents.
🌐 StillRiverCounseling.com | 📍 Austin, TX
Gentle Reminder:
The reflections shared here are intended to offer insight and support. They are not a substitute for therapy or professional mental-health care, and reading this blog does not create a therapeutic or doctor–patient relationship.
