Still Here: When the World Moves On and You Can’t

You know that feeling when life keeps moving, but you don’t? When everyone around you seems to be laughing, planning, and posting, while you’re still trying to make sense of what just happened? I’ve felt that too. Whether you’re grieving a personal loss or watching a social movement fade from public attention, it can feel like the world has moved on—and left you behind.

This post is for those moments. For the quiet ache of not being ready to move on. For the confusion of watching others forget what you’re still holding close. Let’s talk about grief, social change, and how to create space for yourself when the pace of the world feels too fast.

Grief Doesn’t Follow the World’s Timeline

When I lost someone I loved, I remember how surreal it felt to see life continue around me. People went to work. They made dinner plans. They posted vacation photos. Meanwhile, I was waking up with a lump in my throat and crying in the grocery store.

You might know that feeling. Maybe you’re grieving a person, a relationship, a version of yourself, or even a dream. Grief doesn’t always look dramatic. Sometimes it’s quiet. Sometimes it’s numb. Sometimes it’s just the absence of joy.

And while the world expects you to bounce back, grief doesn’t follow a schedule. It moves in spirals, not straight lines. You might feel okay one day and shattered the next. That’s not regression—it’s reality.

Moving on isn’t about forgetting. It’s about learning to live with what’s changed. And that takes time.

When Social Movements Move On Without You

There’s another kind of grief that’s harder to name—collective grief. You see it when a tragedy strikes and the world responds. People post, donate, march, and mourn together. For a moment, it feels like we’re united.

Then the news cycle shifts. The hashtags fade. The urgency disappears.

If you’re still grieving, still fighting, still remembering—it can feel like abandonment. You might wonder, “Did it matter? Was it just a trend?” I’ve asked those questions too.

In my advocacy work, I’ve seen how quickly attention fades. After a disaster, support floods in. But within weeks, sometimes days, the spotlight dims. Survivors are still rebuilding. Families are still mourning. And those of us who stay behind? We carry the weight in silence.

Moving on, in this context, can feel like forgetting. But it’s also a reminder: real change takes more than a moment. It takes sustained care, long after the headlines disappear.

Redefining What “Moving On” Really Means

Let’s rethink what it means to move on. It doesn’t mean pretending you’re fine. It doesn’t mean leaving your grief behind. It doesn’t mean catching up with everyone else.

Sometimes, moving on means carrying your grief differently. It means finding ways to live with the loss, not erase it. It means allowing joy to return, without guilt. It means letting grief shape you, not define you.

For me, moving on looked like writing. Like planting a garden. Like showing up for others who were grieving. It looked like crying in the morning and laughing by the afternoon. It looked like holding both joy and sorrow in the same hand.

You get to decide what moving on means for you. And you get to take your time.

Creating Space and Seeking Connection

When the world moves on, you need space to stay still. You need space to feel, to reflect, to breathe. That space doesn’t always exist naturally—you have to create it.

Here are some ways I’ve learned to make room for healing and connection:

• Set boundaries around your time and energy, especially online.

• Create rituals that honour your grief—light a candle, write a letter.

• Find quiet moments for reflection, even just five minutes a day.

• Seek out people who understand—support groups, therapists, trusted friends.

• Let yourself feel without rushing to fix or explain.

• Remember that healing isn’t linear, and you’re not behind.

  
  

Connection matters too. Grief can feel isolating, but you’re not alone. When you share your story, you invite others to share theirs. That’s how healing begins.

Final Thoughts

If you’ve ever felt like the world has moved on without you, I want you to know: you’re not alone. That feeling is real. It’s valid. And it doesn’t mean you’re stuck.

Sometimes, we need to pause. To sit with our grief. To honour what we’ve lost. And sometimes, we need to be reminded that healing isn’t about catching up—it’s about coming home to ourselves.

So if you’re still in the thick of it, still feeling the weight of what was, I see you. I’m with you. And I believe in your pace.

Moving on doesn’t mean leaving behind. It means carrying forward—with tenderness, with truth, and with time.

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Key Takeaways

• Grief moves in spirals, not timelines.

• Collective grief fades, but lived grief endures.

• Moving on means carrying, not forgetting.

• Healing requires intentional space and boundaries.

• Connection turns isolation into shared healing.