The Power of Moving On (And Why “I Can’t Believe” Keeps Us Stuck)
I came home today and caught myself expecting Darwin to come racing up the stairs.
I half-expected to hear his tail banging against the crate, his joy filling the house.
You see, the silence reminded me: he’s not here anymore. Before I go any further, please send this post to a friend who needs to hear this. Maybe they’re in a grief chapter themselves. Maybe they’re one of those pals that actually hates their job and says things like “I can’t wait for Friday…” be a pal and introduce them to me so we can get to the bottom of it. I’d very much appreciate it and I always offer 20% thank you cheques for any introductions that turn into impact.
Now, where were we… ah yes. Coming home a few minutes ago and being all sad bear… 🐻
Listen, moment stung. And, I let it sting. I let myself feel the sadness instead of hiding it in the closet with the rest of the shit we don’t want to deal with.
And it brought me to something I think we can afford to talk about when it comes to grief:
the danger of not letting go…or at least, not loosening our grip.
The Subtle Trap of “I Can’t Believe”
You’ve probably heard it. Maybe you’ve said it yourself:
“I can’t believe he’s gone.”
It sounds harmless. I know the intention is harmless, and, here’s the problem: words matter. They’re spells. Like magic. 🪄 👇🏼
With my word, I create.
- The meaning of Abracadabra (any wonder we call it “spelling”…)
Words are just articulations of thought.
Stack enough thoughts together, and you’ve got yourself a belief system.
And belief systems? Those shape our actions…or, in too many cases, our inactions.
So if you’re unhappy with where you’re at in life, the first place to look is the belief system you’ve subscribed to. Like Amazon Prime, you can always uncheck that box.
And what’s a belief system built on? The words you use. Both the ones you say out loud and the ones you whisper to yourself when nobody else is listening. Often ten times more deadly…
The Reframe
When someone says, “I can’t believe he’s gone,” I’ll ask:
“Is he gone?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Then can you believe he’s gone?”
And they look at me like I’ve got three heads. And… eventually, they realize that, yeah, they can believe it. Because it’s accurate.
Which means the words “I can’t believe” are inaccurate. And repeating them keeps you stuck in disbelief. Keeps you locked in a loop.
The shift is simple:
“I can believe he’s gone.”
Will it erase the pain? No. You’ll still have your work cut out for you, and like one of my favourite artists, Trevor Hall says, “You Can’t Rush Your Healing” (I’m working on Trevor’s language too, bear with me… 😂 )
Said another way, “you can take the time you need to heal”. Feel all the feels. It will root you in reality, and that’s where healing starts. 💫
Why This Matters
Most people shift and squirm and some even flat out tell me where to go when being shown the mirror. 🪞 It’s uncomfortable. I know. I also know it’s not a personal thing. The emotions signal a shred of truth… that’s what people hate the most.
My work in this lifetime is to help people become who they’re meant to be. And that means shining light on the shadows. You know… all the patterns, words, and self-talk that keep us frozen in yesterday…? Yeah. That. 🫣
So if this is bringing some heat to the surface… here’s the invitation:
Instead of saying “I can’t believe,” try “I can believe.”
Sit with it. Feel it. Cry if you need to. Let it sting. Because moving on is more about being accurate than allowing our truth to keep us stuck land so you can live from it.
That’s the real power of moving on. Thanks for riding with me. ✌🏻